Pierre weekly free press. (Pierre, S.D.) 1889-19??, 1916-07-13

don't know whether I was scared most
then Or when o We're quiet, and 1t
was so dark and lonely and still all
around. Every day l put a stone in
your hat"
Jennie. you saved my life" said
Duane.
Il don't know. Maybe. I did all 1
know how to do" she replied. You
saved mine-more than my life"
Their eye met in a long gaze, and
then their hands in a close clasp.
Jennie, We're going to get away" he
said, with gladness. I'll be we'll in a
few days. o don't know how strong
l am. Well hide by day and travel
by night. l can get you across the
river
And them" she asked.
We'll find some honest rancher."
And them" she persisted.
Why" he began, slowly, that's as
far as my thoughts ever got. 1t was
pretty hard, l tell you, to assure NY
self of so much 1t means your safety.
some village or town and taken care of
until a relative or friend is notified"
And you?" she inquired, in a strange
voice.
Duane kept silent.
What will o log" she went on.
Jennie, I'll go pack to the brakes. I
daren't show my face among respect
able people. I'm an outlaw"
you're no criminal!" she declared,
with deep passion.
Jennie, Oh this border the little diff
ference between an outlaw n a Grim
lnal doesn't count for much"
You won't go back 1nong those ter
rlble men? You, with o u ge%ntlenesS
and sweetness-all that's good about
you? Oh, Duane, don't-don't go!"
Il can't go back to the outlaws, al
least not Blande's band. No, I'll go
alone. I'll lone-wolf it, as they say on
the border. What else can 1 do,
Jennie?"
"Oh, don't know. Couldn't you hide?
Couldn't you slip out of Texas-go far
aWay?"
II could never get out Of Texas with
out being arrested. l could hide, but
a man must live. Never mind about
me, Jennie"
In three days Duane was able with
great difficulty to mount his horse.
During daylight. by short relays, he
and Jennie rode back to the main trail,
where they hid again till he had rested.
Then In the dark they rode out of the
canons and gullies of the Rim Rock,
and early in the morning halted at the
first water to camp.
From that point they Travelled after
nlghtfall and went into hiding during
the day. One across the Neuces river,
Daune was assured Of safety for her
and great danger for himself They had
crossed into a country he did not know.
somewhere east Of the river there were
scattered ranches. But he was as liable
TO flnd the rancher in touch with the
outlaws as he was likely to find him
honest. Duane hoped his good fortune
would not desert him in this last serv-
Ice to Jennie. Next to the worry of
that was realization of his condition.
He a gotten up too soon; he had rid
den too far and hard. and now he felt
that any moment he might fall from
his saddle. At last, far ahead over a
barren mesquite dotted stretch Of dusty
ground, he espied a patch of green and
a little flat, red ranch-house. He headed
his horse for it and turned a face he
tried to make cheerful for Jennie's
sake. She seemed both happy and
sorry.
When near at hand he saw that the
rancher was a thrifty farmer. And
thrift spoke for honesty. There were
fields OF alfalfa, fruit-trees, ~corrals,
windmill pumps, irrigation bitches, all
surrounding a neat little adobe house.
Some children We're playing in the yard.
The way they ran at sight Of Duane
limited of both the loneliness and the
fear of their isolated lives. Duane saw
a woman come to the door, Their a man.
The latter looked keenly, then stepped
outside. He was a sandy-haired
iiCChlSQ LcAdll.
"Howdy. stranger" he called, as
Duane halted. Get down, you an your
woman. Say. now, air you sick or shot
or what? Let ne"
Duane, reeling in his saddle, ben
searching eyes upon the rancher. He
thought he saw good will, kindness
honesty. He risked all on that one sharp
glance. Ihen he almost plunged from
the saddle.
The rancher caught him, helped him
to a bench.
Martha, come out here!" he called
This mans sick. No; he's shot, or ]
don't know blood stains"
Jernle had slipped off her horse and
to Duan's side. Duane appeared abou1
to faint.
Air you his wife," asked the
rancher.
No. I'm only a girl he saved from
outlaws: Oh, he's SO pale! Duane
Duanei"
Buck Duane!" exclaimed the ranch.
Bland an Alloway? Say, w him {
good turn, ar I'll pay it, young WON.
an"
The rancher's wife came out, ant
with a manner at nee kind and prac.
tical essayed to make Duane drink from
a flask. He was not so far gone tina
he could not recognize it's contents
which he refused, and weakly asked fol
water. When that was given him h,
found his voice.
Yes, I'm Duane. rye only overdon,
myself-just all in. The wounds I go
at BANDS are healing. Will you tax,
this girl in-hide her awhile till tn,
excitement's over among tho outlaws?
II shore WILL" replied the Texan.
Thanks. I'll remember YOUR
square it,"
"What re you goin' to do?"
I'll fest a bit--then go back to tn,
brakes"
Young man. you amt in any shap
to travel See here-any hustlers o,
your trail?"
Il think we gave BANDS gang tn,
slip"
Good. I'll tell you what. I'll tax
you in along with the girl, an hid
both OF Q till you get we'll. 1t III b,
safe. NV nearest neighbor is five mile.
off. We don't have much
You risk q great deal. Both outlaw
and rangers are hunting me- sal,
Duane.
!, Never seen a ranger yet In thes
parts. An have always got along witt
outlaws. mebbe e~xceptin' Bland. 1 tel
you owe o a good turn"
; my horses might betray you," adde,