An International bridge connected the town with another, considerably smaller in size, on the Mexican side of the river. The railroad also crossed at this point.
A company headquarters of Texas Rangers which had been located in this section of Texas for some time was in charge of Captain Julius Braddock. The officer, an old-time cattleman, had passed most of his life on the plains. In the early part of his career the “bad man” of the border and elsewhere occupied a far more conspicuous position than he does in this age, when civilization is constantly reaching farther and farther afield. And he could tell, and often did, stories of actual experiences with cattle rustlers and other desperate characters, which made the usual motion-picture drama on the same subject appear by comparison quite tame indeed.
Captain Braddock was sitting at his desk in one corner of the big room, when the door suddenly opened, and, on looking up in surprise, he saw a great crowd of boys pushing their way inside.
“Hello!” he exclaimed, the stern lines on his rugged, weather-beaten face relaxed into a smile of welcome. “You all here again, and—’pon my word—what? Still another?”
He rose to his feet and advanced to a rail, his keen gray eyes fixed on Cranny Beaumont’s smiling face.
“Yes, sir; still another,” echoed the lad with a chuckle. “How are you, Captain Braddock?—the boys have told me all about you.”
After a more formal introduction by Bob Somers, breezy Cranny began to chat with all his accustomed ease and frankness. He told him about his plans; about the “cracker-jack” nag called “Starlight” he had just hired from a horse-dealer in town; he mentioned a rifle and revolver bought but a few minutes before, and altogether managed to impress the bluff old captain most favorably.
“So you’re out for adventure before settling down to the more serious pursuits of life,” he said finally, with a twinkle in his eye.
“Yes, sir,” replied Cranny. “I say, Captain, has there been anythin’ doin’ around here lately?”
The officer looked thoughtful.