Pierre weekly free press. (Pierre, S.D.) 1889-19??, 1916-06-15

ShoAA w SCCIl lIlCI. H0 kdDR ne
rules here come from all over, an
they're tough cusses, o can bet or
tibet. They live fat an easy. If il
wasn't fer the fightin' among them
selves they'd shore grow populous. The
Kim Rock is no place for a peaceable
decent Teller. / heard you tell BLAND
you wouldn't join his gang. Thet'l
not make him take a likin' to you
Have you any money!"
NO much" replied Duane.
Could you live by gamblin'? Are
you any good at cards?"
mo-
You wouldn't steal bosses or rustic
cattle?"
No"
When our moneys gone how n
hell will you live? There amt any
work a decent Teller could do. YOU
can't herd with greasers. Why, BANDS
men would shoot at you in the fields.
WhatIl o do, SOM"
God knows" replied Duane, hope
lessly. I'll make my money last as
long as possible-then starve."
Wal, I'm pretty pore, but you'll
never starve while l got anythin'."
Here it struck Duane again-that
something human and kind and eager
which he had seen in Stevens. Duane's
estimate of outlaws had lacked this
quality. He had not accorded them
any virtues. To him, as to the out
side world, they had been merely vi
cious men without one redeeming fea-
ture.
I'm much obliged to you, Euchre,"
replied Duane. But Of course | won't
live with anyone unless l can pay my
share"
Have it any way you like, my son,
said Euchre, good humoredly. "You
make a fire, an III set about gettin'
grub. I'm a sour dough. Buck. Tibet
ma doesn't live who can beat my
bread
How do you ever pack supplies j n
here?' asked Duane, thinking of the
almost inaccessible nature Of the VAL
ley.
Some comes across from Mexico,
an the rest down the river. Thet
river trip is a bird. It's more'n 500
miles to any supply point. Bland has
mozos, greaser boatmen. Sometimes,
river. You see. Bland sells thousands
Of cattle in Cuba. An all this stock
has to go down by boat to meet the
ships"
Where or earth are the cattle driv-
en- down to the river?" asked Duane.
"Thet's not my secret" replied Eu-
ehre, shortly. Fact is. l don't know.
sent me through the Rim Rock
with them"
Duane experienced a sort Of pleas
ure in the realization that interest had
been stirred in him. He was curious
about Bland and his gang, and glad to
have something to think about. For
every nee in a while he had a sensa-
ton h a was almost like a pang. He
wanted to forget. In the nex hour he
did forget, and enjoyed helping in the
preparation and eating Of the meal
Euchre, after washing and hanging up
the several utensils, put on his hat and
turned to go out.
Come along or stay here, as you
want" he said to Duane.
I'll stay" rejoined Duane, slowly.
The old outlaw left the room and
trudged away, whistling c%heerfully.
Duane looked around him for a book
or paper, anything to read; but all the
printed matter he could find consisted
OF a few words on cartridge boxes and
an advertisement on the back Of a to-
Dacco pouch. There seemed to be MOTH
ing for him to do. He had rested; he
did not want to lie down any more.
He began to walk to and fro, from one
end Of the room to the other. And as
he walked he fell into the lately ac-
CURED habit Of %brooding over his mis-
fortune.
Suddenly he Strengthened up with a
jerk. Unconsciously he had drawn his
gun. Standing there with the bright,
cold weapon in his hand, he looked at
it in CONSERVATION. How had he come
to draw it? With difficulty he traced
his thoughts backward, but could not
find any that was accountable for his
act. He discovered, however, that he
hand to his gun. That might have
come from the habit long practice i n
drawing had given him. Likewise, ii
might have come from a subtle sense.
scarcely thought of at all, of the late.
close and inevitable relation between
that weapon and himself. He was
amazed to find that, bitter as he had
grown at fate, the desire to live burned
strong in him. II he had been as UNI
fortunately situated, but with the diff
ference that no man wanted to put
him in Jail or take his life, he felt that
this burning passion to be free, to save
himself, might not have been SO pow
prospects for him. Already he had be-
gun to despair Of ever getting back to
his home. But to give up like a white
hearted coward, to let himself be hand
cuffed and Jailed, to run from a
drunken Dragging cowboy, OF be shot
In old blood By some border brute who
merely wanted to add another notch
to his gun-these things were impos-
sible for Duane because there was in
him the temper to fight. In that hour
he yielded only to fate and the spirit
Unborn in him. Hereafter this gun
must be a living part of him. Right
then and there he returned to a prac-
tice he had long discontinued-the
draw. 1t was now a stern, bitter,
deadly business with him. He did not
need to fire the gun, for accuracy was
a gift and had become assured. Swift
ness on the draw, however, could be
improved. and he set himself to ac-
quire the limit Of speed possible to any
man. He stood still. in his tracks; he
paced the room; he sat down., lay
down, put himself in awkward posi-
lions; and from every position he prac-
ticed throwing his gun-practiced ii
till he was hot and tired and his arm
ached and his hand burned. That prac-
tice he determined to keep up every
day. It was n thing, at least, that
would help pass the weary hours.
Later he went outdoors to the cooler
shade OF the cOttonwoods. From this
! point he could see a good deal Of the
valley Under different circumstances
Duane felt that he would have en-
joyed such a beautiful spot. Euchre's
shack sat against the first rise Of the
slope Of the wall. and Nuane by climb
ing q few rods got a view Of the whole
valley. Assuredly 1t was an outlaw
settlement. He SAY a good many Mex