The eyes of the Ranger softened. "I've got nothin' against you, Captain. You're all there. We won't go into any whyfors, but just let it go as it stands. I want to quit my job—right away. This round-up of the Dinsmores about cleans the Panhandle anyhow."
"You're the doctor, Tex. But why not take yore time? It costs nothin' Tex to wait a day or two an' look around you first."
"I've got business—to-night. I'd rather quit when I said."
"What business?" asked Ellison bluntly. "You mentioned law-breakin'. Aimin' to shoot up the town, are you?"
"At six to-night, Captain, my resignation takes effect."
The little man shrugged. "I hear you, Jack. You go off the pay-roll at six. I can feel it in my bones that you're goin' to pull off some fool business. Don't run on the rope too far, Jack. Everybody that breaks the law looks alike to my boys, son."
"I'll remember."
"Good luck to you." Ellison offered his hand.
Roberts wrung it. "Same to you, Cap. So long."
The young man walked downtown, ate his dinner at the hotel, and from there strolled down to the largest general store in town. Here he bought supplies enough to last for a week—flour, bacon, salt, sugar, tobacco, and shells for rifle and revolvers. These he carried to his room, where he lay down on the bed and read a month-old Trinidad paper.