The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1916-11-02
Bu ZANE GREY

| from the tracks, tied his horse, and
then crossed over to the station. He
heard the clicking of the telegraph
instrument, and it thrilled him. An
operator sat inside reading. When
Duane tapped on the window he look
ed up with startled glance, then went
swiftly to unlock the door.
Hello. Give me paper and pencil.
Quick" whispered Duane.
With trembling hands the operator
complied. Duane wrote out the mes
sage he had carefully composed.
"Send this-repeat it to make sure
then keep mum. I'll see you again,
Good-by."
The operator stared, but did not
speak a word.
Duane left as stealthily and swiftly
as he had come. He walked his horse
couple of miles back on the road
Nnd then rested him till break of day.
.
When Duane swung into the wide,
grassy square on the outskirts of Ord
hitched in front of the tavern. He
knew what that meant. Luck still
favored him. If it would only hold
But he could ask no more. The rest
was matter of how greatly he could
make his power felt. An open conflict
against odds lay in the balance. That
would be fatal to him, and to avoid
it he had to trust to his name and a
presence he must make terrible. He
knew outlaws. He knew what quail
ties held them. He knew what to ex-
aggerate.
There was not an outlaw in sight.
The dusty horses had covered distance
that morning. AS Duane dismounted
he heard loud, angry voices inside the
tavern. He removed coat and vest,
hung them over the pommel, He pack
ed two guns, one belted high on the
left hip, the other one swinging low on
the right side. He neither looked nor
listened, but boldly pushed the door
and stepped inside.
The big room was full of men, and
Knell's pale face flashed into Duane's
swift sight; then Boldt's, then Blossom
Kane's, then Panhandle Smiths, then
Fletcher's, then others that were fami-
liar, and last that of POggin. Though
Duane had never seen POggin or heard
him described, he knew him. For he
saw face that was record of great
and evil deeds.
There was absolute silence. The
outlaws were lined back of a long
table upon which were papers, stacks
of silver coin, bundle Of bills, and
huge gold-mounted gun.
'Are you gents lookin' for me?"
asked Duane. He gave his voice all
the ringing force and power of which
he was capable. And he stepped back,
free Of anything, with the outlaws all
before him.
Knell stood quivering, but his face
might have been a mask. The other
outlaws looked from him to Duane.
Jim Fletcher flung up his hands.
"My Gawd, Dodge, what ID you bust
in here fer?" he said plaintively, and
slowly stepped forward. His action
was that of a man true to himself.
He meant he had been sponsor for
Duane and now he would stand by
him.
'Back, Fletcher" called Duane, and
his voice made the outlaw jump.
'Hold on, Dodge, an you-all, every
body" said Fletcher. "Let me talk,
SEEM I'm in the wrong here"
His persuasions did not ease the
strain.
"Go ahead. Talk" said Poggin.
Fletcher turned to Duane. "Pard,
I'm takin' it on myself tibet you meet
enemies here when I swore you'd meet
friends. It's my fault. I'll stand by
you if you let me-"
"No, JIM" replied Duane.
'But what d you come fer without
the signal?" burst out Fletcher in
distress. He saw nothing but catas-
trophe in this meeting.
Jim, 1 amt pressin' my company
none. But when I'm wanted bad"
Fletcher stopped him with a raised
hand. Then he turned to Poggin with
a rude dignity.
Peggy, he's my pard, an he's riled.