Pierre weekly free press. (Pierre, S.D.) 1889-19??, 1916-10-05
CHAPTER XIII.

Duane returned to Fairdale and
camped i'll the mesquite till the 23rd of
the month. The few days seemed end
less. All he could hin of was that
the hour in which he must disgrace
Ray Longstreth was slowly but ineNor-
ably coming. In that waiting time he
learned what. o was II also duty
When the day at last dawned he rode
like one possessed down the rough
slope, hurdling the stones n crashing
through the brush, with a sound in his
ears that was not all the rush of the
wind. Something dragged at him
Apparently one side OF his mind was
unalterably fixed, while the other was
a hurrying conglomeration of flashes
of thought, reception of sensations. He
could not get calmness. By n by,
almost ~involuntarily. he hurried faster
on. Action seemed to make his state
less oppressive; it eased the weight.
But the farther he went or the harder
it was to continue. Had he turned his
back upon love, happiness, perhaps on
life itself?
There seemed no use to so on farther
until he was absolutely sure of himself
Duane received q clear warning thought
and driving him could never be carried
out in the mood under which he la
bored. He hung on to that thought.
Several times he slow up, then stopped,
only to go on again. AT length, as he
mounted a low ridge, Fairdale lay
bright and green before him not far
away. and the sight was a conclusive
check. There We're mosquitoes on the
ridge, and Duane sought the shade be-
meath them. 1t vas the moor hour,
| with hot, glary sun and no wind. Here
Duane had to have out his fight. Du-
ane was utterly unlike himself; he
could not bring the Old self back; he
was not the Same q he once had
been. But he could understand why.
1t was because of Ray Longstreth.
Temptation assailed him. To have her
his wife! 1t was impossible. The
thought was insidiously %alluring. Du-
ane pictured a home. He saw himself
riding through the cotton and rice and
cane, home to a stately old mansion,
| where long cared hounds bayed him
welcome, and a woman looked for him
ana met him with happy and beautiful
smile. There might-there would be
| children. And something new, strange,
c~onfounding with it's emotion, came to
life deep in Daane's heart. There
would be children! Ray their mother!
The kind of life a lonely outcast always
yearned for and never had! He saw it
all. felt it all.
But beyond and above all other
claims came Captain MacNelly's. 1t
was then there was something cold and
deathlike in Duane's soul. For he
knew, whatever happened, of one thing
he was sure-he would have to kill
either Longsyreth or Lawson. Long
stretch mighs be trapped into arrest;
but Lawson Mad no sense. no control,
no fear. He you'd snarl like & panther
and go for his gun. and he would have
to be killed. This, of all consumma-
tons, was the one to be calculated
upon.
Duane came out of 1T all bitter and
callnus and sore-in the most fitting
of moods to undertake a difficult and
deadly enterprise. He had fallen upon
his old strange, futile dreams, now rem
dered poignant by reason of love. He
| drove away those dreams. In their
places came the images of the olive
! skinned I.ongstreth with his sharp
eyes, and the dark, evil faced Lawson
1 and then returned tenfold more thrill
lang and sinister the III strange pas-
. sion to meet Poggin.
1t was about j o'clock when Duane
rode into Fairdale. The streets for the
most part were deserted. He went. di-
rectly to find. Morton and thinner. He
found them at length, restless. SOM
her. anxious, but unaware Of the part
he la played at Ord. They said Long
stretll was home, too. 1t was possible
that Longstrsth had arrived home in
| ignorance.
Dunno told them to be on hand in
town with their men in case he might
nea6thenl, and then with teeth locked
Duane stole through the bushes and
trees, and when nearing the porch he
heard loud. angry, familiar voices
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