“No. They're up-town.” “Come. MacNelly, you walk with him. We've ladies in the party. I'll come behind with them.” They set off up-town. Longstreth walked as if he were with friends on the way to dinner. The girls were mute. MacNelly walked like a man in a trance. There was not a word spoken in four blocks. Presently Duane espied a stone building on a corner of the broad street. There was a big sign, “Rancher's Bank.” “There's the hotel,” said MacNelly. “Some of my men are there. We've scattered around.” They crossed the street, went through office and lobby, and then Duane asked MacNelly to take them to a private room. Without a word the Captain complied. When they were all inside Duane closed the door, and, drawing a deep breath as if of relief, he faced them calmly. “Miss Longstreth, you and Miss Ruth try to make yourselves comfortable now,” he said. “And don't be distressed.” Then he turned to his captain. “MacNelly, this girl is the daughter of the man I've brought to you, and this one is his niece.” Then Duane briefly related Longstreth's story, and, though he did not spare the rustler chief, he was generous. “When I went after Longstreth,” concluded Duane, “it was either to kill him or offer him freedom on conditions. So I chose the latter for his daughter's sake. He has already disposed of all his property. I believe he'll live up to the conditions. He's to leave Texas never to return. The name Cheseldine has been a mystery, and now it'll fade.” A few moments later Duane followed MacNelly to a large room, like a hall, and here were men reading and smoking. Duane knew them--rangers! MacNelly beckoned to his men. “Boys, here he is.” “How many men have you?” asked Duane. “Fifteen.” MacNelly almost embraced Duane, would probably have done so but for the dark grimness that seemed to be coming over the man. Instead he glowed, he sputtered, he tried to talk, to wave his hands. He was beside himself. And his rangers crowded closer, eager, like hounds ready to run. They all talked at once, and the word most significant and frequent in their speech was “outlaws.” MacNelly clapped his fist in his hand. “This'll make the adjutant sick with joy. Maybe we won't have it on the Governor! We'll show them about the ranger service. Duane! how'd you ever do it?” “Now, Captain, not the half nor the quarter of this job's done. The gang's coming down the road. I saw them from the train. They'll ride into town on the dot--two-thirty.” “How many?” asked MacNelly. “Poggin, Blossom Kane, Panhandle Smith, Boldt, Jim Fletcher, and another man I don't know. These are the picked men of Cheseldine's gang. I'll bet they'll be the fastest, hardest bunch you rangers ever faced.” “Poggin--that's the hard nut to crack! I've heard their records since I've been in Val Verde. Where's Knell? They say he's a boy, but hell and blazes!” “Knell's dead.”