The Benson signal., 1916-11-11

Duane saw woman come to the door,
then man. The latter looked keenly,
then stepped outside. He was sandy
haired, freckled Texan.
"Howdy, stranger" he called as
Duane halted. "Get down, you an
your woman. Say, now, air you sick
or shot or what? Let me"
| Duane, reeling in his saddle, bent
searching eyes upon the rancher. He
thought he saw good will, kindness,
honesty. He risked all on that one
sharp glance Then he almost plunged
from the saddle.
The rancher caught him, helped him
| to bench.
| Martha, come out herew he called.
''This mans sick. No; he's shot, or
don't know blood-stains."
Jennie had slipped off her horse and
| to Duane's side. Duane appeared
| about to faint.
"Air you his wife?" asked the
| rancher.
| outlaws. Oh, he's so pale! Duane,
Duane!'
'Buck Duane!" exclaimed the ranch
er, excitedly ",rhe man who killed
Bland an Alloway? Say, I owe him
a good turn, an I'll pay it, young
| woman"
The rancher's wife came out, and
| with a manner at once kind and prac-
| tical essayed to make Duane drink
| from flask. He was not SO far gone
| that he could not recognize it's con-
tents which he refused, and weakly
asked for water. When that was given
him he found his voice.
eyes, I'm Duane. I've only over
done myself-just all in. The wounds
got at BANDS are healing. Will you
take this girl in-hide her awhile till
| the excitement's s over among the out
| laws?"
II shore WILL" replied the Texan.
"Young man you amt in any shape
| to travel. TIL take you in along with
the girl, an hide both of you till you
get WELL"
Duane's last fading sensations Of
| that hard day were the strange feel
Of bed, relief at the removal of his
heavy boots, and of Jennie's soft, cool
hands on his hot face.
He lay i'll for three weeks before he
began to mend, and it was another
week then before he could walk out
little in the dusk of the evenings.
After that his strength returned rapid
| ly. And it was only at the end Of this
long siege that he recovered his spirits.
During most of his illness he had been
silent, moody.
"Jennie, I'll be riding Off soon," he
said, one evening. II can't impose on
this good man Andrews much longer.
I'll never forget his kindness. His
wife, too-she's been so good to us.
Yes, Jennie, you and I will have to
say good-by very soon."
"Don't hurry away" she replied
Lately Jennie had appeared strange
to him. She had changed from the
girl he used to see at Mrs. Bland's
house. He took her reluctance to say
good-by as another indication of her
regret that he must go back to the
brakes. Yet somehow it made him
observe her more closely.
''It's likely that we won't see each
other again." he said. "That's strange
to think of. We've been through some
hard days, and l seem to have known
you long time"
Jennie appeared shy, almost sad, so
Duane change the subject to some
thing less personal.
\
Andrews returned one evening from
a several days trip to Huntsville.
'Duane, everybody's talkin' about
| how you cleaned up the Bland outfit"
he said, important and all full of news.
''It's some exaggerated, accordin' to
what you told me; but you've shore
made friends on this side of the
Nueces. I reckon there amt town
where you wouldn't find people to
welcome you"
''Did you hear of any outlaws hunt
| ing me?" asked Duane.
"Nobody from BANDS outfit is hunt
| in you, thet's Shore" replied Andrews.
| ''Ffsher said there never was q hOss
straddled to go on your trail. Nobody
had any use for Bland. Anyhow, his
men would be afraid to trail you. An
you could go right in to Huntsville,
where you'd be some popular. Reckon
you'd be safe, too. except where some
| Of them fool saloon loafers or bad
cowpunchers would try to shoot you
for the glory in it. Them kind of men
will bob up everywhere you go,
Duane
''I'n be able to ride and take care Of
myself in a day or two" went on
Duane. "Then I'll go-Td like to talk
to you about Jennie"
"She's welcome to home here with
u.s."
"Thank you, Andrews. You're a
kind man. But I want Jennie to get
farther away from the Rio Grande.
| ctI-z f0