They don't know anythin' or anybody.

An' the old ranchers are wise an' sore.

They'd fight if they...." "What ?" I put in as he paused.

"If they knew who was rustling the stock ?" "Nope." "If they had the nerve ?" "Not thet so much." "What then?
What'd make them fight ?" "A leader!" I went out of Hoden's with that word ringing in my ears.

A leader! In my mind's eye I saw a horde of dark faced, dusty-booted cattlemen riding grim and armed behind Vaughn Steele.
More thoughtful than usual, I walked on, passing some of my old haunts, and was about to turn in front of a feed and grain store when a hearty slap on my back disturbed my reflection.
"Howdy thar, cowboy," boomed a big voice.
It was Morton, the rancher whom Jim had mentioned, and whose acquaintance I had made.