Jumbo Wilkins came wheezing into the Sunset Trail corral, where Jack Roberts was mending a broken bridle. "'Lo, Tex. Looks like you're gittin' popular, son. Folks a-comin' in fifty miles for to have a little talk with you."
The eyes of the Ranger grew intelligent. He knew Jumbo's habit of mind. The big line-rider always made the most of any news he might have.
"Friends of mine?" asked Jack casually.
"Well, mebbe friends ain't just the word. Say acquaintances. You know 'em well enough to shoot at and to blacksnake 'em, but not well enough to drink with."
"Did they say they wanted to see me?"
"A nod is as good as a wink to a blind bronc. They said they'd come to make you hard to find."
The Ranger hammered down a rivet carefully. "Many of 'em?"
"Two this trip. One of 'em used to think yore topknot was red. I dunno what he thinks now."
"And the other?"
"Carries the brand of Overstreet."
"Where are these anxious citizens, Jumbo?"
"Last I saw of 'em they were at the Bird Cage lappin' up another of the same. They've got business with Clint Wadley, too, they said."
Jack guessed that business was blackmail. It occurred to him that since these visitors had come to town to see him, he had better gratify their desire promptly. Perhaps after they had talked with him they might not have time to do their business with Wadley.
As Jumbo waddled uptown beside him, Roberts arranged the details of his little plan. They separated at the corner of the street a block from the Bird Cage. Wilkins had offered to lend a hand, but his friend defined the limit of the help he might give.
"You come in, shake hands with me, an' ask that question. Then you're through. Understand, Jumbo?"
"Sure. But I want to tell you again Overstreet is no false-alarm bad-man. He'll fight at the drop of the hat. That's his reputation, anyhow--wears 'em low an' comes a-shootin'."
"I'll watch out for him. An' I'll look for you in about three minutes."
"Me, I'll be there, son, and I wish you the best of luck."
Gurley was at the bar facing the door when the Ranger walked into the Bird Cage. He had been just ready to gulp down another drink, but as his eyes fell on this youth who came forward with an elastic step the heart died within him. It had been easy while the liquor was in his brain to brag of what he meant to do. It was quite another thing to face in battle this brown, competent youth who could hit silver dollars in the air with a revolver.