The Huttig news., 1916-12-23

 Duane had gone into exile Weliston had grown. A noisy crowd surround cd the station, hut it stilled as Duaae was carried from the train.
 4 sea of faces pressed close. Some were faces he remembered-scho mates friends, old neighborS. There was an uplifting of many hands. Duane was being welcomed home to the town from which he had fled. X 1eadness within him broke. This wei come hurt him somehow, quicKened nim; and through his cold being. his weary mind. passed a change His sight dimmed
 Then there was a white honse his eld home. How strange. yet how read lis heart beat fast Had so many, many years passed? Familiar yet .trange it was, and all seemed magni- tied.
 They carried him in, these ranger comrades. and laid him down, and fitted his head upon pillows. The aouse was still, though full of people. Duane's gaze sought the open door.
 Someone entered-a tall girl in fhite. with dark wet eyes and light Ipon her faee Sine was leading an old lady, gray-haired. ausfpre-faced. somher and sad His mother. She was feeble, hut she walked erect. She was pale, shaking, vet maintained her iignity.
 Then someone in white uttered q low cry and knelt by Buane's he'd His mother flung wide her arms with | strange gesture.
 This man They've not brought park my boy. This mans his father 'Fheie fs my son? Ny soa-oh. my >an =
 When Duane grew stronger it waS pleasure to lie hy the west window and watch Uncle Jim Whittle his sic. md listen to his talk. The old Hldr eas broken now He told many ia ereating things about people Buane lad known-people who had grown III, and married, failed, succeeded, gone away. and died. But it was hard te keep Uncle Jim off the subject Of guns. outlaws fights. He could mol seem to divine how mention of these things hurt Duane Uncle Jim was childish now, and he had Il great pride in his nephew He wanted to heaA 3f all of Buane's exile. And If there was one thing more than another that pleased him il was to talk about the bullets which Duane carried i'll his body.
 Five bullets. ain't it?" he asked. for the hundredth time. Five in that last scrap! By gum And you had six before?'
 "YeS, uncle" replied Duane.
 "Five and six. That makes eleven. By gum, A mans man, to GRITTY all that lead. But. Buck, you would carry more There's that nigger Ed wards, right here in Wellston. He's got d ton of bullets in him. Doesn t seem to mind them none. And there's Cole Miller. I've seen him. Been q bad man in his day. They say he packs twenty-three bullets. But he's bigger than you-got more flesh. Funny, wasn't it Buck, about the doctor only bein' able to cut one bullet out of you-the one in your breast bone? Ii was a forty-one caliber, an unusual cartridge. l saw il, and | wanted it. but Miss Longstreth wouldn't part with it. Buck, rhere was q bullet left in one of Poggin' : guns, and that bullet was the same kind as the one cut out of you By gum! Boy. it 'd have killed you If 1t d stayed tfiere.'
 .It would indeed, uncle" replied Duane, and the old, haunting, sonber mood returned.
 But Duane was not often at the mercy of childish cid hero-worshiping Uncle Jim. Miss Longstreth was the only person who seemed to divine Duane's gloomy mood, and when she was with him she warded off all sug- gestion.
 One afternoon while she was there at the west window, a message came for him. They read it together.
 You have saved the ranger service to the Lone Star State.
 Ray knelt beside him at the window and he believed she meant to speak then of the thing they had summed Her face was still white, but sweeter now, warm with rich life beneath the marble; and her dark eyes wore still intent, still haunted hy shadows, but no longer tragic,
 "fm glad for MaeNellys sake as well as the states" said Duane
 She made no reply to that and seemed to be thinking deeply. Duane shrank little.
 "The pain--is ii any worse today? she asked, instantly.
 "No; it's the same. It will always he the same. I'm full of lead, you know. But don't mind a little pain
 "Then--it's the old mood--the fear?" she whispered. Tell me.
 "Yes. It haunts me. l'n he well soon-ahle to go out. Then that that hell will cone back '