The Tomahawk. [volume] (White Earth, Becker County, Minn.) 1903-192?, 1916-09-07

send out voiceless cry no less
poignant because it was silent:
"Poor fool! No, I shall never see
mother again-never go home-never
have a home. I am Duane, the Lone
Wolff"
A group of specters trooped out OF
the shadows Of dusk and, gathering
round him. escorted him to his bed.
Every one Of his victims, singly and
collectively, returned to him for ever
it seemed, in cold, passionless, accus-
ing domination. They did not accuse
him of dishonor or cowardice or brutal
ity or murder; they only accused him
of death. It was as If they knew more
than when they were alive, had learn
ed that life was divine mysterious
gift not to be taken. They thronged
about him with their voiceless clamor-
ing, drffted around him with their
fading eyes.
After nearly six months in the
Nueces gorge the loneliness and mac
ton of his life drove Duane out upon
the trails seeking anything rather
than to hide longer alone, a prey to
the scOurge of his thoughts. The mo-
ment he rode into sight Of men a re-
markable transformation occurred in
him. A strange warmth stirred In him
"a longing TO see the faces OF people,
to hear their voices-a pleasurable
emotion sad and strange. But it was
only a precursor OF his old bitter,
sleepless, and eternal vigilance.
Mercer was the first village he rode
into. He had many friends there.
Mercer claimed to owe Duane a debt.
On the outskirts Of the village there
was a grave overgrown by brush so
that the rude-lettered post which
marked it was scarcely visible to
Duane as he rode by. He had never
read the inscription. But he thought
now of Hardin. For many years Hard
in had harassed the stOckmen ana
ranchers in and around Mercer. On
an evil day for him he or his outlaws
had beaten and robbed a man who
once succored Duane when sore In
need. Duane met Hardin in the little
plaza of the village. called him every
name known to border men, tainted
him to draw, and killed him in the act.
Duane went to the house Of one
Jones, a Texan who had known his
father, and there he was warmly re-
ceived. The feel of an honest hand,
the voice of friend, the prattle OF
children who were not afraid Of him
or his gun, good wholesome food, and
change of clothes-these things for
the time being made changed man
of Duane. To be sure, he did not often
speak. The price of his head and the
weight of his burden made him silent.
But eagerly he drank in all the news
that was told him. In the years Of his
absence from home he had never heard
word about his mother or uncle.
Those who were his real friends on
the border would have been the last
to make inquiries, to write or receive
letters that might give a clue to
Duane's whereabouts.
Duane remained all day with this
hospitable Jones, and as twilight fell
was loath to 60 and yielded to press
ing invitation to remain overnight. 1t
was seldom indeed that Duane slept
under a roof. EARLY in the evening,
while Duane sat on the porch with two
awed and hero-worshiping sons Of the
house, Jones returned from a quick
visit down to the postoffice. Summar-
lily he sent the boys off. He labored
under intense excitement.
"Duane, there's rangers in town." he
whispered. ITS all over town, too.
that you're here. You rode in long
after sdnup. Lots of people saw you.
don't believe there's man or boy that
d squeal on you. But the women
might. They gossip, and these rangers
are handsome fellows-devils with the
women"
"What company Of rangers?" asked
Duane, quietly.
company A, under Captain Mac
Nelly, that new ranger. He made
big name in the war. And since he's
been in the range service he's done
wonders. He's cleaned up some bad
places south, and he's working north
"MacNelly. I've heard Of him. De-
scribe him to me-"
"Slight-built chap, but wiry and
tough. Clean face, black mustache and
hair. Sharp black eyes. He's got
look of authority. MacNelly's a fine
man, Duane. Belongs to a good
Southern family. I'd hate to have him
look you up"
Duane did not speak.
"MacNelly's got nerve, and his rang
ers are all experienced men. If they
find out you're here they'll come after
you. MacNelly's no gun-fghter, but
he wouldn't hesitate to do his duty,
even If he faced sure death. Which
he would in this case. Duane, you
mustn't meet Captain MacNelly. Your
record is clean, If it Is terrible. You
never met q ranger or any officer ex-
cept a rotten sheriff now and then,
like Rod Brown"
Still Duane kept silence. He was