The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1916-10-26
The Lone Star Ranger
A Fine Tale OF the Open Country By ZANE GREY

you gave me handle. didn't you?
Dodge. Thet's as good as any. Shore
it hits me hard. Jim, I've been pretty
lonely for years, an I'm gettin' in
need of pals. Think it over, will you?
See you manana."
The outlaw watched Duane go off
after his horse, watched him as he re-
turned to the tavern, watched him
ride out in the darkness-all without
word.
Duane left the town, threaded q
quiet passage through cactus and mes
quite to a spot he had marked before,
and passed the night. His mind was
so full that he found sleep aloof.
Luck at last was playing his game.
He sensed the. first slow heave of
mighty crisis. The end, always haunt
ing, had to be sternly blotted from
thought. 1t was the approach that
needed all his mind.
Late in the morning he returned to
Ord. If Jim Fletcher tried to disguise
his surprise, the effort was a failure.
Duane again. Duane allowed himself
a little freedom with Fletcher, an at
titude hitherto lacking.
That afternoon q horseman rode in
from Bradford, an outlaw evidently
well known and liked by his fellows,
and Duane heard him say, before he
could possibly have been told the
train-robber was in Ord, that the loss
of money in the hold-up was slight.
Like a flash Duane saw the luck of
this report. He pretended not to have
heard.
In the early twilight at an opportune
moment he called Fletcher to him,
and, linking his arm within the out
laws, he drew him off in stroll to
log bridge spanning little gully.
Here after gazing around, he took out
q roll of bills, spread it out, split it
equally, and without a word handed
one half to Fletcher. With clumsy
fingers Fletcher ran through the roll.
give hundred" he exclaimed.
dodge, thet's damn handsome of you,
considerin' the job wasn't"
"Considerin' nothin'," interrupted
Duane. "Pm maxim no reference to
a job here or there. You did me 4,
good turn. 1 split my pile. If tibet
doesn't make us pards, good turns
an money amt no use in this coun-
try"
Fletcher was won.
The two men spend much time to-
gether. Duane made up short ficti-
tious story about himself that salts
fled the outlaw, only it drew forth
laughing jest upon Duane's modesty.
For Fletcher did not hide his belief
that this new partner was man of
achievements. Knell and Poggin, and
then Cheseldine himself, would be
persuaded of this fact, so Fletcher
boosted. He had influence. He would
use it. He thought he pulled stroke
with Knell. But nobody on earth,
not even the boss, had any influences
on Poggin. Poggin was concentrated
ice part Of the time; all the rest he
was bursting hell. But POggin loved
a horse. He never loved anything
else. He could be won with that
black horse Bullet. Cheseldine was
already won by Duane's monumental
nerve; otherwise he would have killed
Duane.
Little by little the next few days
Duane learned the points he lOnged
to know; and how indelibly they etch-
ed themselves in his memory! Chesel-
dimes hiding-place was on the far
slope of Mount Ord, in deep, high
walled valley. He always went there
just before a contemplated job, where
he met and planned with his lieuten-
ants. Then while they executed he
basked in the sunshine before one or
another Of the public places he owned.
He was there in the Ord den now,
getting ready to plan the biggest job
yet. It was a bank-robbery but
where, Fletcher had not as yet been
advised.
Then when Duane had pumped the
now amenable outlaw Of all details
pertaining to the present he gathered
data and facts and places covering
period of ten years Fletcher had been
with Cheseldine. And herewith was
unfolded a history so dark in its
bloody regime, so incredible in its
brazen daring, so appalling in it's proof
of the outlaws sweep and grasp of
the country from Pec0s to Rio Grande,
that Duane was stunned. Compared
to this Cheseldine Of the Big Bend,
to this rancher, stock-buyer, cattle
Spectator, property-holder, all the
outlaws Duane had ever known sank
into insignificance. The power Of the
man stunned Duane; the strange
fidelity given him stunned Duane; the
intricate inside working Of his great
system was equally stunning. But
when Duane recovered from that the
old terrible passion to kill consumed
him, and it ragged f1ercely and it could
not be checked. If that red-handed
Poggin, if that cold-eyed, dead-faced
Knell had only been at Ord! But
they were not, and Duane with help
Of time got what he hoped was the
I,oo5 Of him Golf