Tombstone epitaph., 1916-10-08

Poor fool' No, I shall never see mother again-never go home-never have home. l am Duane. the Lone Wolfr'
 A group of specters trooped out of the shadows of dusk and. gathering round him. escorted him to his bed.
 Every one of his victims. singly and collectively, returned to him for ever. II seemed, in cold. passiOnless. accus- ing domination. They did not accuse him of dishOnor or cowardlce or brutal ity or murder; they only accused him of death. It was us If they knew more than when they were alive, had learn cd that life was divine mysterious gift not to be taken. They thronged about him with their voiceless clamor- ing, drifted around him with their fading eyes.
 
 After nearly six months in the Nueces gorge ;ac .oac!!aess and innc- tion of his life drove Duane out upon the trails seeking anything rather than to hide longer alone. a prey to the scourge of his thoughts. The mo- ment he rode into sight of men a re- markable transformation occurred in him. A strange warmth stirred in him -a longing to see the faces of people, to hear their vOiceS-a pleasurable emotion sad and strange. But 1t ras only q precursor of his old bitter, sleepleSs, and eternal vigilance.
 Mercer was the first village he rode into. He had many friends there. Mercer claimed to owe Duane debt. On the outskirts of the village there was grave overgT0wn by brush so | that the rude-lettered post which marked 1t was sc.rcely visible to Duane as he rode by. He had never read the inscription. But he thought now of Hardin. For many years Hard ! in had harassed the stockmen and : ranchers in and around Mercer. On | an evil day for him he or his outlaws had beaten and robbed n man who once succored Duane when sore In need. Duane met Hardin in the little l plaza of the village, called him every name known to border men. taunted | him to draw, and killed him in the act. Duane went to the house of one Jones, Texan who had known his l father, and there he was warmly re- ceived. The feel of an honest hand. ! the voice of a friend. the prattle of children who were not afraid of him | or his gun. good wholesome food, and ' change of ClOthes-theSe things for the time being made changed man af !, t. ! speak. The price of his head and the weight of his burden made him silent. ! But eagerly he drank in all the news 1 that was told him. In the years of his absence from home he had never heard word about his mother or uncle. ] Those who were his real friends on ! the border would have been the last to make inquiries, to write or receive letters that might give a clue to Duane's whereabouts.
 Duane remained all day with this hospitable Jones, and as twilight fell was lOath to go and yielded to q press ing invitation to remain overnight IL was seldom indeed that Duane slept under a roof. Early in the evening, while Duane sat on the porch with two awed and hero-wOrshipinG sons of the house, Jones returned from a quick visit down to the postoffice. Summar- fly he sent the boys of. He labored under intense excitement.
 "Duane, there's rangers in town" he whispered. '1r's all over town, too, that you're here. You rode in long after sunup. Lots of people saw you. don't believe there's a man or boy that d squeal on you. But the women might. They gossip. and these rangers are handsome feI!ows-devils with the women"
 What company of rangers?" asked Duane, quietly.
 Company A, under Captain Mac Nelly. that new ranger. He made a big name in the war. And since he's been in the range service he's done wonders. He's cleaned up some tcd places south, and he's working north"
 "MacNeily- I've heard of him. De scribe him to me-
 "Slisht-bLilt chap. but wiry and tough. Clean face. black mustache and hair. Sharp black eyes. He's got 8 look of authority. MacNelly's a fine man, Duane. Belongs to good Southern family. I'd hate to have him look yC-i up."
 Duane did not speak.
 "MacNeiiy's got nerve. and his rang CTS are all experienced men If they ind out you're here they'll come after you. MacNelly's no gun-fghter, but he wouldn't hesitate to do his duty, even if he faced sure death. Which he would in this case. Duane. you mustn't meet Captain MacNelly. Your record is clean, If 1t Is terrible. You never met a ranger or any officer ex- cept a rotten sheriff now and then, like Rod Brown"
 Still Duane kept silence. He was not thinking of danger, but of the fact of how feeting must be his stay among friends.
 I've already fixed up a pack of grub," went on Jones. "I'll slip out to saddle your horse. You watch here" He had scarcely uttered the last words when soft, swift footsteps sounded on the hard path. A man turned h the gate. The Night was dim. yef cIanR no0uUh fo sia~l<>~ an