The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1916-09-07
. Duane's menacing, unmistakable posi-

He was in a bad place 10 reach for
his gun. But he would not have time
| for step. Duane read in his eyes the
| desperate calculation of chances. For
a fleeing instant Bland shifted his
glance to his wife. Then his whole
body seemed to yibrate with the swing
of his arm.
| Duane shot him. He fell forward,
his gun exploding as it hit into the
floor, and dropped loose from stretch
! ing fingers. Duane stood over him,
stopped to turn him on his back.
| Bland looked up with clOud0d gaze,
then gasped his last.
duane, you've killed him." cried
Kate Bland, huskily. 81 knew you'd
have tor
She staggered against the wall, her
eyes diIating, her strong hands clench-
ing, her face slowly whitening. She
appeared shocked, half stunned, but
showed no grief.
"Jennie!" called Duane, sharply.
"Come out. Hurry!"
She came out with uneven steps,
seeing only him, and she stumbled over
BANDS body. Duane caught her arm,
swung her behind him. He feared the
woman when she realized how she had
been duped. His action was protec-
tive, and his movement toward the
door equally as significant.
"Duane!" cried Mrs. Bland.
1t was no time to talk. Duane edged
on, keeping Jennie behind him. At
that moment there was a pounding of
irOn-shOd hoOfS out in the lane. Kate
Bland bounded to the door. When she
turned back her amaZement was
changing to realization.
"Where re you taking Jen?" she
cried, her voice like q mans.
"Get out Of my way" replied Duane.
His look perhaps, without speech, was
enough for her. In an instant she was
transformed into fury.
you hound! All the time you were
fooling me! You made love to me!
You'll never leave here alive. Give me
that girl Let me-get at her! She'll
never win any more men in this camp"
''Help! help! help!" she shrieked, in
a voice that must have penetrated to
the remoteSt cabin in the valley.
Suddenly she snatched a rifle off the
wall and backed away, her strong
hands fumbling at the lever. And she
jerked it down, throwing a shell into
the chamber and cooking the weapon,
Duane leaped upon her. He struck up
the rifle as it went off, the powder
burning his face.
Jennie, run out! Get on horse!"
he said.
Jennie flashed out OF the door.
With an iron grasp Duane held to
the rifle-barrel. He had grasped it
with his left hand, and he gave such
a pull that he swung the crazed wo-
man off the floor. But he could not
loose her grip. She was as strong as
he.
kate! Let gO!"
He tried to intimidate her. She did
not see his gun thrust in her face, or
reason had given way to such an
extent to passion that she did not care.
She cursed. Her husband had used
the same curses, and from her lips
they seemed strange, unsexed, more
deadly. Like a tigress she fought him;
her face no longer resembled wo-
mans.
He heard cry from outside-a
mans cry, hoarse and alarming.
1t made him think of loss of time.
This demon of a woman might yet
block his plan.
LET gor he whispered, and felt
his lips stiff. In the grimness of that
instant he relaxed his hold on the
rifle-barrel
With sudden, redoubled, irresistible
strength she wrenched the rifle down
and discharged it. Duane felt blow
"a shock-a burning agony tearing
through his breast. Then in a frenzy
he jerked so powerfully upon the rifle
that he threw the woman against the
wall. She fell and seemed stunned.
Duane leaped back, whirled, flew
out of the door on the porch. The
sharp cracking of a gun halted him.
He saw Jennie holding to the bride
of his bay horse. Euchre was astride
the other. and he had Colt leveled,
and he was firing down the lane. Then
came single shot, heavier, and
Euchre's ceased. He fell from the
horse.
A swift glance back showed to Duane
man coming down the lane. Chess
Allowayl His gun was smoking. He
broke into a run. Then in an instant
lie saw Duane, and tried to check his
pace as he swung up his arm. But
that slight pause was fatal. Duane
shot, and Alloway was falling when his
gun went off. His bullet whistled
close to Duane and thuGded into the
cabin.
Duane bounded down to the horses.
Jennie was trying to hold the plunging
bay. Euchre lay fiat on his back,
dead, a bullet-hole in his shirt, his
face set hard, and his hands twisted
round gun and bride.
"Jennie, you've nerve, all right y
cried Duane. as he dragged down the
horse she was holding. up with you
now! There! Never mind-long
stirrups! Hang on somehow"
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