The Elbert County tribune., 1916-11-17

felt weak and had no desire to move.
Where was he, anyway A strange,
| intangible sense of time, distance, of
something far behind weighed upon
him. He thought he heard a step and
listened, but he felt tired, and present
ly his eyes closed and he fell into
doze.
Awakening from this, he saw Jennie
sitting beside him. In some way she
seemed to have changed. When he
spoke she gave a start and turned
eagerly to him.
"Duane" she cried.
"Hello. How re you. Jennie, and
how am I?' he said, finding it little
difficult to talk.
"Oh. I'm all right" she replied.
"And you've come to-your wounds
healed; but you've been sick. Fever,
1 guess. did all l could"
Duane saw now that the difference
in her was a whiteness and tightness
of skin, a hollowness of eye, q look
Of strain.
"Fever? How long have we been
here?" he asked.
She took some pebbles from the
crown of his sombrero and counted
them.
mine. Nine days." she answered.
"Nine daysr he exclaimed, incredu-
lously. But another look at her as
sured him that she meant what she
said.
'Bland's men didn't come along
hereT
mo"
''Have you slept anyT
"a little. Lately I couldn't keep
awake"
81 should think not You've had
time of 1t sitting here day and night
nursing me, watching for the outlaws.
Come, tell me all about it."
"Theres nothing much to TELL" she
replied, simply. "We must have rid
den forty miles that day we got away.
You bled all the time. Toward even
ing you lay on your horses neck.
When we came to this place you fell
out Of the saddle. I dragged you in
here and stopped your bleeding. 1
though you'd die that night. But in
the morning 1 had little hope. l
had forgotten the horses. But luckily
they didn't stray far. 1 caught them
and kept them down in the gorge.
When your wounds closed and you be-
gan to breathe stronger thought you'd
get well quick. 1t was fever that put
you back. You raved q lot, and that
worried me, because 1 couldn't stop
you. Anybody trailing us could have
heard you a good ways. 1 don't know
whether I was scared most then or
when you were quiet, and 1t was so
dark and lonely anu still all around.
Every day put stone in your hat"
"Jennie, you saved my life," said
Duane.
II don't know. Maybe. I did all I
knew how to do" she replied. You
saved mine-more than my lIfe."
Their eyes met in long gaze, and
then their hands in close clasp.
Jennie, we're going to get away"
he said, with gladness. 'Tll be well
in a few days. You don't know how
strong am. Well hide by day and
travel by night. 1 can get. you across
the river"
''And then?" she asked.
"We'll find some honest rancher,"
sand thenT she persisted.
'Why," he began, slowly, "that's ms
far as my thoughts ever got. 1t was
pretty hard, tell you, to assure my
self so much. 1t means your safety.
You'll tell your story. You'll be sent
to some village or town and taken care
of until relative or friend is notified"
"And your" she inquired in strange
voice.
Duane kept silence.
"What will you do?" she went on.
"Jennie, I'll go back to the brakes.
daren't show my face among re-
spectacle people. I'm an outlaw"
"You won't go back among these
terrible men? You. with your gentle
ness and sweetness-all that's good
about you? Oh, Duane, don't-don't
gow
II can't go back to the outlaws, at
least not Blands banG, No, I'll go
alone. I'll lone-wolf it, as they say
on the border. Never mind about me,
Jennie"