The Elbert County tribune., 1916-11-17

of Duane limited to both the loneliness
and the fear of their isolated lives.
Duane saw woman come to the door,
then a 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 n bench.
Martha, come out herel" 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 wife3" asked the
rancher.
mo. I'm only girl he saved from
Duanep
"Buck Duanei |" exclaimed the ranch
er, excitedly. "The man who killed
Bland an Alloway? Say, 1 owe him
a good turn, an I'll pay 1t, young
woman"
The rancher's wife came out, and
with manner at once kind and prac-
teal essayed to make Duane drink
from a flask. He was not so far gone
that he could not recognize its 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
1 got Mt BANDS are healing. VIII you
take this girl in-hide her awhile till
the excitement's over among the out
laws?"
II shore WILL" replied the Texan.
to travel. III 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. a 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 1t 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 1 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
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 1t made him
observe her. more closely.
Its 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 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. 1 reckon there amt a town
where you wouldn't find people to
welcome you"
did you hear Of any outlaws hunt
ing meT" asked Duane.
Nobody from Bland's outfit Is hunt
In you. thet's Shore" replied Andrews.
"Fisher said there never was 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 1t. Them kind of men
will bob up everywhere you go.
Duane"
'T'll be able to ride and take care of
myself in day or two," went on
Duane. 'Then I'll go-Pd like to talk
to you about Jennie"
"She's welcome to home here with