Prisoners had to be corraled after arrest, or the work would be useless, almost a farce, and there was no possibility of repeating trips to Del Rio.
We could not use an adobe house for a jail, because that could be easily cut out of or torn down.
Finally I remembered an old stone house near the end of the main street; it had one window and one door, and had been long in disuse.

Steele would rent it, hire men to guard and feed his prisoners; and if these prisoners bribed or fought their way to freedom, that would not injure the great principle for which he stood.
Both Steele and I simultaneously, from different angles of reasoning, had arrived at a conviction of Sampson's guilt.

It was not so strong as realization; rather a divination.
Long experience in detecting, in feeling the hidden guilt of men, had sharpened our senses for that particular thing.

Steele acknowledged a few mistakes in his day; but I, allowing for the same strength of conviction, had never made a single mistake.
But conviction was one thing and proof vastly another.

Furthermore, when proof was secured, then came the crowning task--that of taking desperate men in a wild country they dominated.
Verily, Steele and I had our work cut out for us.