The Benson signal., 1916-10-14
0 THE LONE STAR RANGER
This is shrv about the Texas Plains People ZANE GREY

was told of him that he shot twice
after bullet had passed through his
heart. Think of the terrible nature
of a man, to be able to do that. If
you have any such blood in you, never
| give it a chance"
"What you say is all very we'll,
uncle" returned Duane, ''but the only
way out for me is to run, and I won't
do it. Cal Balm and his outfit have
already made me look like a coward"
| ."Well,' then, what're you goin' to
do?" inquired the elder man.
| II haven't decided-yet.'
mo, but you're comm to it mighty
fast. That terrible spell is workin' in
you. You're gettin' cool an quiet,
an you think deep, an don't like the
light in your eye. 1t reminds me Of
your father"
II wonder what dad would say to
me today if he were alive and here"
said Duane.
"What do you think? What could
you expect of man who never wore
a glove on his right hand for twenty
years"
"Well, he'd hardly have said much.
Dad never talked. But he would have
done lot. And I guess I'll go down.
town and let Cal Balm find me-"
Then followed a long silence, dur
ing which Duane sat with downcast
| eyes, and the uncle appeared lost in
sad thought of the future. Presently
he turned to Duane with an expression
that denoted resignation, and yet a
spirit which showed wherein they were
of the same blood.
"You've got fast horse-the fast
est know of in this country. After
you meet Balm hurry back home. I'll
have a saddlebag packed for you and
the horse ready"
With that he turned on his heel and
went into the house, leaving Duane
to revolve in his mind his singular
speech. That hour of Duane's life was
like years of actual living, and in it
he became a thoughtful man.
He went into the house and inspect
ed his belt and gun. The gun was a
Colt As, six-shot, and heavy, with an
ivory handle. He had packed it, on
and off, for five years. Before that it
had been used by his father. There
were a number of notches filed in the
bulge of the ivory handle. This gun
was the one his father had fired twice
after being shot through the heart,
and his hand had stiffened so tightly
upon it in he-death-grip that his fin
gers had to be pried open. It had
never been drawn upon any man since
it had come into Duane's possession.
But the cold, bright polish of the
weapon showed how it had been used.
Duane could draw it with inconceiv-
able rapidity, and at twenty feet he
could split card pointing edgewise
toward him.
Duane wished to avoid meeting his
mother. Fortunately, as he thought,
she was away from home. He went
out and down the path toward the
gate. The air was full of the fra
GRANGE of blossoms and the melody of
birds. Outside in the road a neighbor
woman stood talking to a countryman
in a wagon; they spoke to him; and
he heard, but did not reply. Then he
began to stride down the road toward
the town.
Wellston was small town, but i'm
portant in that unsettled part of the
| great state because it was the trading
center of several hundred miles of ter
ritory. On the main street there were
perhaps fifty buildings, some brick,
some frame, mostly adobe, and one
third of the lot, and by far the most
prosperous, were saloons. Duane's eye
ranged down the street, taking in all
at a glance. By the time he reached
Sol Whites place, which was the first
saloon, he was walking slowly. Sew
eral people spoke to him and turned
to look back after they had passed.
He paused at the door of Whites sa-
loon, took a sharp survey of the inte-
rior, then stepped inside.
The saloon was large and cool, full
noise ceased upon his entrance, and
the silence ensuing presently broke to
the clink of Mexican silver dollars at
a monte table. All eyes except those
of the Mexican gamblers were turned
upon Duane. Several of the cowboys
and ranchers present exchanged
glances. Duane had been weighed by
unerring Texas instinct, by men who
all packed guns. The boy was the
son of his father. Whereupon they
greeted him and returned to their
drinks and cards. Sol White stood
with his big, red hands out upon the
bar; he was tall, rawboned Texan,
with long mustache waxed to sharp
points.
"Howdy, Buck" was his greeting to
Duane. He spoke carelessly and avert
ed his dark gaze for an instant.
"Howdy, Sol," replied Duane, slowly.
"Say, Sol. I hear there's a gent in
town looking for me bad"
"Reckon there is, Buck" replied
White. "He came in heah aboot an
| 1oo,,r oro Choro ho was como ,.iIo1