Tombstone epitaph., 1916-09-24
THE LONE STAR RANGER Thrilling Texas Border Story
 By ZANE GREY

his latter remark was significant to n class of men who from inclination and necessity practiced at gun-drawing un- til they wore callous and sore places on their thumbs and inculcated in the very deeps of their nervous Organiza- tion a habit that made even the sim plest and most innocent motion of the hand end at or near the hip. There was something remarkable about a gun-fighter's hand. IL never seemed to be gloved, never to be injured, never out of sight or in an awkward posi- ton. GriZzled outlaws in that group, some of whom had many notches on their gun-handles, accorded Duane silence that carried conviction of the regard in which he was held.
 "Orful hot, ain't it?" remarked Bill Black, presently. Bill could not keep quiet for long. He was typical Texas desperado. had never been any thing else. He was stOop-shouldered and bow-legged from much riding; a wiry little man, all muscle. with a square head, hard face partly black from scrubby beard and red from sun, and bright, rowing, cruel eye. His shirt was open at the neck, showing a griZZled breast.
 "Laziest outfit I ever rustled with" went on Biii. discontenteiiy. Suii,in' to do! Say. if anybody wants to swim maybe some of you'll gamble?"
 He produced dirty pack of cards and waved them at the motionless crowd.
 Bill, you're too good at cards" re piled lanky outlaw.
 Now, Jasper, you say thet power ful sweet, an you look sweet, CT 1 might take 1t 10 heart" replied Black. with sudden change of tone.
 Here it was aGain-that upflashing passion. What Jasper saw fit to reply would mollify the outlaw or it would not. There was an even balance.
 "No offense, Bill" said Jasper. placidly, without moving.
 Bill grunted and forgot Jasper But he seemed restless and dissatisfied.
 Duane watching the disgruntled out law. marveled at him and wondered what was in his mind. These men were more variable than children, as unstable as water, as dangerous as dynamite.
 Bill, I'll bet you ten you can't spill whateyer's in the bucket thet peon's packin'," said the outlaw called Jim.
 Blacks head came up with the sc- tion of hawk about to swoOp.
 Duane glanced from Black to the road, where he saw a crippled peon carrying a tin bucket toward the river. This peon was q half-witted Indian who lived in a shack and did odd jobs for the Mexicans. Duane had met him often.
 Jim, I'll take you up" replied Black
 Something, perhaps harshness in his voice, caused Duane to whirl. He caught leaping gleam in the outlaws eye.
 'Aw, Bill. thets too fur shot" said Jasper, as Black rested an elbow on his knee and sighted over the long, heavy Colt. The distance 10 the peon was about fifty paces, too far for even tEa most expert shot to hit a moving object so small as bucket.
 Duane. marvelously keen in the alignment of sights. was positive that Black held too high. Another look at the hard face. now tense and dark with blood. confirmed Duane's sus- picion that the outlaw was not aiming at the bucket at all. Duane leaped and struck the level gun out of his hand. Another outlaw picked it up.
 Black fell back astounded. De- prived of his weapon, he did not seem the same man, or else he was cowed by Duane's significant and formidable front. Sullenly he turned away with out even asking for his gun.