The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1916-10-26
CHAPTER XXI.

| Dustuc udu ucClueQ W go " OIu
| and try to find the rendezvous where
| Longstreth was to meet his men.
| These men Duane wanted even more
than their leader. 1t was Poggin who
needed to be found and stopped.
Poggin and his right-hand men!
The night of the day before he
reached Bradford, No. 6, the mail and
express train going east, was held up
| by train-robberies, the Wells-Fargo
messenger killed over his safe, the
mail-clerk wounded, the bags carried
away. The engine No. 6 came into
| town minus even a tender, and en-
gineer and fireman told conflicting
stories. A posse of railroad men and
citizens, led by a sheriff Duane sus-
pected was crooked, was made up be-
fore the engine steamed back to pick
up the rest Of the train. Duane had
the sudden inspiration that he had
been cudgeling his mind to find; and,
acting upon it, he mounted his horse
again and left Bradford unobserved.
He rode at an easy trot most OF
the night, selected an exceedingly
rough, roundabout, and difficult course
to Ord, hid his tracks with the skill
of long-hunted fugitive, and arrived
there with his horse winded and COW
cred with lather It added consider
able to his arrival that the man
Duane remembered as Fletcher and
several others saw him come in the
back way through the lots and jump
q fence into the road.
Duane led Bullet up to the porch
where Fletcher stood wiping his
beard. He was hatless, vestless, and
evidently had just enjoyed morning
drink.
"Howdy, Dodge" said Fletcher,
laconically.
Duane replied, and the other man
returned the greeting with interest.
"Jim, my boss s done up. I want
to hide him from any chance tourists
as might happen to ride up curious
like"
"Haw! hawi haww
Duane gathered encouragement
from that chorus Of coarse laughter.
oval, if them tourists amt too
burned smoky the boss III be safe
in the 'dobe shack back of Bills here.
Feed thar, too, but you'll hev to rus
tie water"
Duane led Bullet to the place indi-
Gated. had care of his welfare, and
left him there. Upon returning to
the tavern porch Duane saw the group
of men had been added to by others,
some of whom he had seen before.
Without comment Duane walked
along the edge Of the road, and wher-
ever one of the tracks of his horse
showed he carefully obliterated it..
This procedure was attentively
watched by Fletcher and his COM
panions.
oval, Dodge" remarked Fletcher,
as Duane returned, "thet's safer n
prayin' fer rain.'
Duane's reply was a remark as
loquacious as Fletcher's, to the effect
that a long, slow, monotonous ride
Joined him, Enthusiastically friendly.
But Knell was not there, and most
assuredly not Poggin. Fletcher was
no common outlaw, but, whatever his
ability, it probably lay in execution
Of orders. Apparently at that time
these men had nothing to do but
drink and lounge around the tavern.
Duane set out to make himself agree
able and succeeded. All morning men
came and went, until, all told, Duane
calculated he had seen at least fifty.
Toward the middle of the afternoon
a young fellow burst into the saloon
and yelled one word:
"Possew
From the. scramble to get outdoors
Duane judged that word and the en-
suing action was rare in Ord.
"What's all this?" muttered Fetch
er, as he gazed down the road at a
dark, compact bunch of horses and
riders. "Fust time I ever seen tibet
in Ord! Wish Phil was here or Peggy.
Now all you gents keep quiet. I'll do
the talkin'."
The posse entered the town, trotted
up on the dusty horses, and halted
in a bunch before the tavern. The
party consisted about twenty men, all
heavily armed, and evidently in
charge of a clean-cut, lean-limbed
cowboy. Duane experienced consider
able satisfaction at the absence Of the
sheriff who he had understood was
to lead the posse. Perhaps he was
out in another direction with a differ
ent force.
'Hello, Jim Fletcher" called the
cowboy.
"Howdy," replied Fletcher.
At this short, dry response and the
way he strobe leisurely out before the
posse Duane found himself modifying
his contempt for Fletcher. The out
law was different now. /.
FLETCHER, we've tracked a man to
all but three miles of this place.
Tracks as plain as the nose on your
face. Found his camp. Then he hit
into the brush, an we lost the trail.
Didn't have no tracker with us. Think
he went into the mountains. But
we took chance an rid over the rest
Of the way, SEEM Ord was so close.
Anybody come in here late last night
or early this mornin'?"
"Nope," replied Fletcher.
His response was what Duane had
expected from his manner, and evil
IDENTIFY the cowboy took it as matter
Of course. He turned to the others
of the posse, entering into a low con-