The citizen-Republican. (Scotland, Bon Homme County, S.D.) 1???-19??, 1916-08-03
ally Impossible for him to climb the

ally impossible for him to climb the
bluff.
Slowly he fell back, crouched low,
and then lay fiat The grim and CHASTITY
dignity that had been his a moment
before fell away from him. He lay there
stripped to his last shred of self-re-
spect. He wondered was he afraid ;
had he. the last Of the Duanes-had
he come to feel fea-. No! Never in
all his wild life had he so longed to
go out and meet men face to face. 1t
was not fear that held him back. He
hated this hiding, this eternal vigil
lance, this hopeless life. The damna-
bic paradox of the situation was that
II he went out to meet these men there
was absolutely no doubt Of his doom.
III he chung to his covert there was a
chance, merest chance, for his life
Ihese pursuers, logged and unf1agging
as they had been, were mortally afraid
OF him. 1t was his fame that made
them towards. Duan's keenness told
him that at the very darkest and most
| perilous moment there was still q
chance for him. And the blood in him,
the temper Of his father, the years OF
his outlawry, the pride Of mis- unsought
ana hated career, the nameless, mex
plicable something in him made him
accept that slim chance.
Waiting then became physical and
mental agony. He lay under the burn
! ing sun, parched by thirst laboring to
| breathe, sweating and bleeding. His
uncared for wound was like a red hot
prong in his flesh. Blotched and swoll-
en- from the never ending attack of
ffes and mosquitoes his face seemed
! twice It's natural siZe and it ached and
stung.
One one side, then, was this physical
torture; on the other the old hell, ter
ribly augmented at this crisis, in his
mind. 1t seemed that thought and
! imagination had never been so swift.
If death found him presently, how
would it come? Would he get decent
burial or be left for the peccaries and
| the coyotes? Would his people ever
know where he had fallen? How
Wretched how miserable his state! 1t
was cowardly, it was monstrous for
him to cling longer to this doomed life.
Then the hate in his heart, the hellish
hate of these men on his trail-that was
like scourge. He felt no longer human.
He had degenerated into an animal
that could think. His heart pounded,
his pulse beat, his breast heaved;
and this internal strife seemed to
thunder into his ears. He was now
enacting the tragedy of all crippled,
starved, hunted wolves at bay in their
dens Only his tragedy was infinitely
more terrible because he had mind
enough to see his plight, his resemblance
to a lonely wolf, bloody fanged, drip
ping, snarling, fire eyed in a last in
stinctive defiance.
Mounted upon the horror Of Duanes
thought was a. watching. listening in
tensity SO supreme that it registered
impressions which We're creations of
his imagination. He heard stealthy
steps that were not there; he saw
shadowy moving figures that were only
leaves. A hundred times when he was
about to pull trigger he discovered his
error. Yet voices came from distance,
and steps and crackings in the willows.
and other sounds real enough. But
Duane could not distinguish the real
from the false. There were times when
the wind which had arisen sent a hot,
pattering breath down the willow aisles,
and Duane heard 1t as an approaching
army.
This straining Of Duane's faculties
brought on reaction which in itself
was q respite. He saw the stun dark
ened by thick slow spreading clouds.
A storm appeared to be coming. How
slowly 1t moved! The air was like
steam. If there broke one Of those
dark, violent storms common through
rare to the country, Duane believed he
might slip away in the fury Of wind
and rain. Hope, that seemed unquench-
able In him, resurged again. He hailed
1t with bitterness that was sickening.
the old strained attention. He heard
slow patter Of soft feet. A tawny
shape crossed little opening in the
thiciet. 1t was that of q dog. The
moment while that beast came into full
view was an age. The dog was not a
bloodhound, and if he had trail or a
scent he seemed to be at fault on it,
Duane waited for the inevitable dis
coyery. Any kind Of a hunting dog
could have found him In that thicket
Voices from outside could be heard
urging on the dog. Rover they called
him. Duane sat up at the moment the
dog entered the little shaded covert
Duane expected yelping, q baying, or
at least a bark that would tell Of his
hiding place. A strange relief swiftly
swayed over Duane. The end was near
now. He had no further choice. Let
them come-a quick fierce exchange of
shots-and then his torture past! He
waited for the dog to give the alarm.
But the dog looked at him and trotted
by into the thtcket without yelp.
Duane could not believe the evidence Of
his senses. He thought he had sud
denly gone deaf. He saw the dog dis
appear. heard him running to and fro
among the willows, getting farther and
farther away, till all sound from him
ceased.
rhar's Rover called voice from
the bluffside. He's been through tibet
plcCh pedlCil
Nary a rabbit in there" replied an
other.
Bah! Thet pups no good" scorn-
fully growled another man. Put a
hound at tibet clump of willows"
FIRES the game. Burn the brake
before the rain comes"
The voices droned off as their owners
evidently walked up the ridge.
Then upon Duane fell the crushing
burden Of the old waiting, watching,
listening spell. After all. it was not to
end just now His chance still per-
sisted-looked a little brighter-led him
on, perhaps, to forlorn hope.
All at once twilight settled quickly
down upon the willow brake, or else
Duane noted it suddenly. He imagined
lit to be caused by the approaching
storm. But there was little movement
of air or cloud, and thunder still NUT
tered and rumbled at a distance. The
fact was the sun had set, and at this
time of overcast sky night was at hand.
Duane realized it with the awaken
ing of all his OLD force. He would vet
elude his pursuers. That was the mo-
ment when he seized the Significance
.Nf oil T.