The Tabor independent. [volume] (Tabor, S.D.) 1913-19??, 1916-06-15

they're tough cuSSeS, you can Oct on
tibet. They live fat an easy. IL II
selves they'd shore grow populous. The
Rim Rock Is no place for a peaceable
decent Teller. ! heard you tell Bland
you wouldn't Join his gang. Thet'u
not make him take a likin' to you
Have you any money!
Not much" replied Duane.
could you live by gamblin? Are
you any good at cards?'
| mo"
"You wouldn't zeal bosses or rustic
cattleT
NO"
When your moneys gone how n
hell will you, live? There amt any
work a decent Teller could do. You
can't herd with greasers. Why, BANDS
men would shoot at you in the fields.
What'll you do. son?"
God knows" replied Duane, hope
lessly. "I'll make my money last as
long as possible-then starve."
WAL I'm pretty pore, but you'll
never starve while 1 got anythin'."
Here It struck Duane again--that
| something human and kind and eager
| which he had seen in Stevens. Duane's
estimate Of outlaws had lacked this
quality. He had not accorded them
any virtues. To him, as to the out
side world. they had been merely vi
|
ture. ..a .. .."
I'm much obliged to you, Euchre,"
| replied Duane But OF course l won't
live with anyone unless can pay my
share" .. tu. ...r
Have It any way you like, my son."
said Euchre, good humoredly. You
make fire, an I'll set about gettin'
| grub. I'm a sour dough. Buck. Thet
man doesn't live who can beat my
! bread"
How do you ever pack supplies in
herer asked Duane, thinking of the
almost inaccessible nature Of the val
| ley.
Some comes across from Mexico,
| an the rest down the river. Tibet
river trip is a bird. It's more'n 500
miles to any supply point Bland has
mozos. greaser boatmen. Sometimes,
too, he gets supplies in from down
river. You see. Bland sells thousands
has to go down by boat to meet the
ships"
Where on earth are the cattle driv-
| en- down to the river?" asked Duane.
''Thets not my. secret" replied Eu-
chre, shortly. Fact is, don't know.
I've rustled cattle for Bland, but he
never sent me through the Rim Rock
with them"
Duane experienced a sort Of pleas
ure in the realization that interest had
been stirred in him. He was curious
about Bland and his gang, and glad to
have something to think about. For
every once In q while he had a sensa-
ton that was almost like a pang. He
wanted to forget. In the next hour he
did forget, and enjoyed helping in the
preparation and eating Of the meal
Euchre, after washing and hanging up
the several utensils, put on his hat and
turned to go out.
Come. along or stay here, as you
want" he said to Duane.
I'm stay" rejoined Duane, slowly.
The old outlaw left the room and
truaged away, whistling cheerfully.
Duane looked around him for q book
or paper, anything to read; but all the
printed matter he could lind consisted
| OF few words on cartridge boxes and
an Advertisement on the back Of q to-
bacco pouch. There seemed to be moth
ing for him to do. He had rested; he
did not want to lie down any more
He began to walk to and fro, fnom one
end Of the room to the other. And as
he walked he fell into the lately ac-
CURED habit Of brooding over his mis-
fortune.
Suddenly he straightenedSJpp with a
jerk. Unconsciously he had drawn his
gun. Standing there with the bright,
cold weapon in his hand, he looked at
to draw It? With difficulty he traced
his thoughts backward, but could not
find any that was accountable for his
act. He discovered, however, that he
had a remarkable tendency to drop his
hand to his gun. That might have
come from the habit long practice in
drawing had given him. Likewise, 1t
might have come from a subtle sense,
scarcely thought of at all, of the late,
close and inevitable relation between
that weapon and himself. He was
amazed to find that, bitter as he had
grown at fate, the desire to live burned
strong in him. If he had been as un-
fortunately situated, but with the diff
ference that no man wanted to put
him in jail or take his life. he f,lt that
this burning passion to&be free, to save
himself, might not have been so pow
erful. Life certainly held no bright
prospects for him. Already he had be-
his home. But to give up like white
hearted coward, to let himself be hand
cuffed and Jailed, to run from a
drunken Dragging cowboy, or be shot
in cold blood by some border brute who
merely wanted to add another notch
to his gun-these things were impos-
sible for Duane because there was in
him the temper to fight. In that hour
he yielded only to fate and the spirit
Unborn in him. Hereafter this gun
must be a living part Of him. Right
then and there he returned to O prac-
tice he had long discontinued-the
draw. 1t was now stern, bitter,
deadly business with him. He did not
need to fire the gun, for accuracy was
a giSt and had become assured. Swift
ness on the draw, however, could be
improved, and he set himself to &C
quire the limit Of speed possible to any
man. He stood still in his tracks; he
paced the room; he sat down, lay
down, put hiDlself in awkward posi-
tons: and from every position he prac-
ticed throwing his gun-practiced IL
/, till he was hot and tired and his arm
ached and his hand burned. That prac-
tice he determined to keep UP every
| day. 1t was one thing, at least, that
would help pass the weary hours.
Later he went outdoors to the cooler
shade Of the cottonwoods. From this
point he could see a good deal Of the
| valley. Under different circumstances
Duane felt that he would have en-
joyed such a beautiful spot. Euchre's
shack sat against the first rise Of the
slope Of the wall. and Duane by climb
ing q few rods got a view Of the whole
valley. Assuredly It was an outlaw
settlement. He saw u good many Mex
leans, who. Of course. were hand and
gloye with Bland. Also he saw enor-
noHa flatboats crude of structure