It was clear now that to obtain evidence and convictions under such conditions as they prevailed in San Saba was going to be a long, slow job. With officials incriminated and good citizens intimidated; with witnesses ready to come forward and swear anything in defense of the murderers, knowing they would be upheld in their perjury, the securing of good testimony and subsequent justice would be difficult.
The Rangers went into camp in a picturesque spot on the banks of the San Saba River, a mile from town; pitched their tents under the shelter of some immense pecan trees; arranged their "chuck boards," staked their horses and made themselves generally comfortable. Then they posted sentinels (for a fusillade from the society was likely to come at any time), and settled down to business. Evidently they had come to stay. The society postponed its meetings.
Captain Bill now began doing quiet detective work, a labor for which he has a natural aptitude; anybody can see from the shape of his ears and nose, and from the ferret look of his eyes that this would be so. Good citizens took further courage and came to the camp with information. The Ranger Captain looked over the field and undertook a case particularly coldblooded and desperate.
A man named Brown, one of the society's early victims, had been hanged by that mob some ten or twelve years before, and his son Jim, though he had never attempted to avenge his father's death, had fallen under the ban. Jim Brown never even made any threats, but he must have been regarded as a menace, for one Sunday night while riding from church with his wife and her brother, he was shot dead from ambush; his wife, whose horse became frightened and ran within range, also receiving a painful wound.
Captain Bill secured information which convinced him that one Bill Ogle had been the chief instigator in this crime, and that the father and brother of Brown's wife were likewise members of the society and concerned in the plot. He learned, in fact, that the plan had been for Mrs. Brown's brother to ride with her, and for her father, Jeff McCarthy, to carry her baby by a different route to keep it out of danger. The brother, Jim McCarthy, was to stay close to his sister, to look after her horse and keep her out of harm's way while her husband was being murdered. It was due to the fact that Jim McCarthy did not perform his work well, that the sister was wounded. McDonald in due course uncovered the whole dastardly plot.
The murderers now realized that trouble was in store for them. Some of the men began quietly to leave the country. Others consulted together in secluded places and plotted to "kill Bill McDonald." Sympathizing citizens encouraged this movement, and anonymous warnings—always the first resort of frightened criminals—began to arrive in the Ranger camp. Captain Bill paid no attention to such communications; he was used to them. He went on gathering and solidifying his evidence, preparatory to the arrest of Ogle and such of his associates as the proofs would warrant. Ogle, the "tiger" of the society, as he was considered, McDonald had not yet seen, for the reason that the tiger did not live in the town, and for some cause had lately avoided those precincts. He arrived, however, in due season. Perhaps the brotherhood let him know that it was time he was taking a hand in the game.
Captain McDonald, one hot afternoon, was talking to an acquaintance on the streets of San Saba, when he noticed a stout surly-looking man, with the village constable, not far away. Now and then they looked and nodded in his direction and presently an uncomplimentary name drifted to his ear.
"Who is that fellow talking to that sorry constable?" he asked.
His companion lowered his voice to a discreet whisper.