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to Del Rio, let alone to Austin. You have no jail. There have been nine murders during your officeā€”innumerable street-fights and holdups. Not one arrest! But you have ordered arrests for trivial offenses, and have punished these out of all proportion. There have been lawsuits in your court-suits over water-rights, cattle deals, property lines. Strange how in these lawsuits you or Lawson or other men close to you were always involved! Strange how it seems the law was stretched to favor your interest!ā€

Duane paused in his cold, ringing speech. In the silence, both outside and inside the hall, could be heard the deep breathing of agitated men. Longstreth was indeed a study. Yet did he betray anything but rage at this interloper?

ā€œLongstreth, hereā€™s plain talk for you and Fairdale,ā€ went on Duane. ā€œI donā€™t accuse you and your court of dishonesty. I say STRANGE! Law here has been a farce. The motive behind all this laxity isnā€™t plain to meā€”yet. But I call your hand!ā€

CHAPTER XVII

Duane left the hall, elbowed his way through the crowd, and went down the street. He was certain that on the faces of some men he had seen ill-concealed wonder and satisfaction. He had struck some kind of a hot trait, and he meant to see where it led. It was by no means unlikely that Cheseldine might be at the other end. Duane controlled a mounting eagerness. But ever and anon it was shot through with a remembrance of Ray Longstreth. He suspected her father of being not what he pretended. He might, very probably would, bring sorrow and shame to this young woman. The thought made him smart with pain. She began to haunt him, and then he was thinking more of her beauty and sweetness than of the disgrace he might bring upon her. Some strange emotion, long locked inside Duaneā€™s heart, knocked to be heard, to be let out. He was troubled.

Upon returning to the inn he found Laramie there, apparently none the worse for his injury.

ā€œHow are you, Laramie?ā€ he asked.

ā€œReckon Iā€™m feelinā€™ as well as could be expected,ā€ replied Laramie. His head was circled by a bandage that did not conceal the lump where he had been struck. He looked pale, but was bright enough.

ā€œThat was a good crack Snecker gave you,ā€ remarked Duane.

ā€œI ainā€™t accusinā€™ Bo,ā€ remonstrated Laramie, with eyes that made Duane thoughtful.

ā€œWell, I accuse him. I caught himā€”took him to Longstrethā€™s court. But they let him go.ā€

Laramie appeared to be agitated by this intimation of friendship.

ā€œSee here, Laramie,ā€ went on Duane, ā€œin some parts of Texas itā€™s policy to be close-mouthed. Policy and health-preserving! Between ourselves, I want you to know I lean on your side of the fence.ā€

Laramie gave a quick start. Presently Duane turned and frankly met his gaze. He had startled Laramie out of his habitual set taciturnity; but even as he looked the light that might have been amaze and joy faded out of his face, leaving it the same old mask. Still Duane had seen enough. Like a bloodhound he had a scent.

ā€œTalking about work, Laramie, whoā€™d you say Snecker worked for?ā€

ā€œI didnā€™t say.ā€

ā€œWell, say so now, canā€™t you? Laramie, youā€™re powerful peevish to-day. Itā€™s that bump on your head. Who does Snecker work for?ā€

ā€œWhen he works at all, which sure ainā€™t often, he rides for Longstreth.ā€

ā€œHumph! Seems to me that Longstrethā€™s the whole circus round Fairdale. I was some sore the other day to find I was losing good money at Longstrethā€™s faro game. Sure if Iā€™d won I wouldnā€™t have been soreā€”ha, ha! But I was surprised to hear some one say Longstreth owned the Hope So joint.ā€

ā€œHe owns considerable property hereabouts,ā€ replied Laramie, constrainedly.

ā€œHumph again! Laramie, like every other fellow I meet in this town, youā€™re afraid to open your trap about Longstreth.Get me straight, Laramie. I donā€™t care a damn for Colonel Mayor Longstreth. And for cause Iā€™d throw a gun on him just as quick as on any rustler in Pecos.ā€

ā€œTalkā€™s cheap,ā€ replied Laramie, making light of his bluster, but the red was deeper in his face.

ā€œSure. I know that,ā€ Duane said. ā€œAnd usually I donā€™t talk. Then itā€™s not well known that Longstreth owns the Hope So?ā€

ā€œReckon itā€™s known in Pecos, all right. But Longstrethā€™s name isnā€™t connected with the Hope So. Blandy runs the place.ā€

ā€œThat Blandy. His faro gameā€™s crooked, or Iā€™m a locoed bronch. Not that we donā€™t have lots of crooked faro-dealers. A fellow can stand for them. But Blandyā€™s mean, back-handed, never looks you in the eyes. That Hope So place ought to be run by a good fellow like you, Laramie.ā€

ā€œThanks,ā€ replied he; and Duane imagined his voice a little husky. ā€œDidnā€™t you hear I used to run it?ā€

ā€œNo. Did you?ā€ Duane said, quickly.

ā€œI reckon. I built the place, made additions twice, owned it for eleven years.ā€

ā€œWell, Iā€™ll be doggoned.ā€ It was indeed Duaneā€™s turn to be surprised, and with the surprise came a glimmering. ā€œIā€™m sorry youā€™re not there now. Did you sell out?ā€

ā€œNo. Just lost the place.ā€

Laramie was bursting for relief nowā€”to talk, to tell. Sympathy had made him soft.

ā€œIt was two years ago-two years last March,ā€ he went on. ā€œI was in a big cattle deal with Longstreth. We got the stockā€”anā€™ my share, eighteen hundred head, was rustled off. I owed Longstreth. He pressed me. It come to a lawsuitā€”anā€™ Iā€”was ruined.

It hurt Duane to look at Laramie. He was white, and tears rolled down his cheeks. Duane saw the bitterness, the defeat, the agony of the man. He had failed to meet his obligations; nevertheless, he had been swindled. All that he suppressed, all that would have been passion had the manā€™s spirit not been broken, lay bare for Duane to see. He had now the secret of his bitterness. But the reason he did not openly accuse Longstreth, the secret of his reticence and fearā€”these Duane thought best to try to learn at some later time.

ā€œHard luck! It certainly was tough,ā€ Duane said. ā€œBut youā€™re a good loser. And the wheel turns! Now, Laramie, hereā€™s what. I need your advice. Iā€™ve got a little money. But before I lose it I want to invest some. Buy some stock, or buy an interest in some rancherā€™s herd. What I want you to steer me on is a good square rancher. Or maybe a couple of ranchers, if there happen to be two honest ones. Ha, ha! No deals with ranchers who ride in the dark with rustlers! Iā€™ve a hunch Fairdale is full of them. Now, Laramie, youā€™ve been here for years. Sure you must know a couple of men above suspicion.ā€

ā€œThank God I do,ā€ he replied, feelingly. ā€œFrank Morton anā€™ Si Zimmer, my friends anā€™ neighbors all my prosperous days, anā€™ friends still. You can gamble on Frank and Si. But if you want advice from meā€”donā€™t invest money in stock now.ā€

ā€œWhy?ā€

ā€œBecause any new feller buyinā€™ stock these days will be rustled quicker ā€˜n he can say Jack Robinson. The pioneers, the new cattlemenā€”these are easy pickinā€™ for the rustlers. Lord knows all the ranchers are easy enough pickinā€™. But the new fellers have to learn the ropes. They donā€™t know anythinā€™ or anybody. Anā€™ the old ranchers are wise anā€™ sore. Theyā€™d fight if theyā€”ā€

ā€œWhat?ā€ Duane put in, as he paused. ā€œIf they knew who was rustling the stock?ā€

ā€œNope.ā€

ā€œIf they had the nerve?ā€

ā€œNot thet so much.ā€

ā€œWhat then? Whatā€™d make them fight?ā€

ā€œA leader!ā€

ā€œHowdy thar, Jim,ā€ boomed a big voice.

A man of great bulk, with a ruddy, merry face, entered the room.

ā€œHello, Morton,ā€ replied Laramie. ā€œIā€™d introduce you to my guest here, but I donā€™t know his name.ā€

ā€œHaw! Haw! Thetā€™s all right. Few men out hyar go by their right names.ā€

ā€œSay, Morton,ā€ put in Duane, ā€œLaramie gave me a hunch youā€™d be a good man to tie to. Now, Iā€™ve a little money and before I lose it Iā€™d like to invest it in stock.ā€

Morton smiled broadly.

ā€œIā€™m on the square,ā€ Duane said, bluntly. ā€œIf you fellows never size up your neighbors any better than you have sized meā€”well, you wonā€™t get any richer.ā€

It was enjoyment for Duane to make his remarks to these men pregnant with meaning. Morton showed his pleasure, his interest, but his faith held aloof.

ā€œIā€™ve got some money. Will you let me in on some kind of deal? Will you start me up as a stockman with a little herd all my own?ā€

ā€œWal, stranger, to come out flat-footed, youā€™d be foolish to buy cattle now. I donā€™t want to take your money anā€™ see you lose out. Better go back across the Pecos where the rustlers ainā€™t so strong. I havenā€™t had moreā€™n twenty-five hundred herd of stock for ten years. The rustlers let me hang on to a breedinā€™ herd. Kind of them, ainā€™t it?ā€

ā€œSort of kind. All I hear is rustlers, Morton,ā€ replied Duane, with impatience. ā€œYou see, I havenā€™t ever lived long in a rustler-run county. Who heads the gang, anyway?ā€

Morton looked at Duane with a curiously amused smile, then snapped his big jaw as if to shut in impulsive words.

ā€œLook here, Morton. It stands to reason, no matter how strong these rustlers are, how hidden their work, however involved with supposedly honest menā€”they CANā€T last.ā€

ā€œThey come with the pioneers, anā€™ theyā€™ll last till tharā€™s a single steer left,ā€ he declared.

ā€œWell, if you take that view of circumstances I just figure you as one of the rustlersā€ā€

Morton looked as if he were about to brain Duane with the butt of his whip. His anger flashed by then, evidently as unworthy of him, and, something striking him as funny, he boomed out a laugh.

ā€œItā€™s not so funny,ā€ Duane went on. ā€œIf youā€™re going to pretend a yellow streak, what else will I think?ā€

ā€œPretend?ā€ he repeated.

ā€œSure. I know men of nerve. And here theyā€™re not any different from those in other places. I say if you show anything like a lack of sand itā€™s all bluff. By nature youā€™ve got nerve. There are a lot of men around Fairdale whoā€™re afraid of their shadowsā€”afraid to be out after darkā€”afraid to open their mouths. But youā€™re not one. So I say if you claim these rustlers will last youā€™re pretending lack of nerve just to help the popular idea along. For they CANā€T last. What you need out here is some new blood. Savvy what I mean?ā€

ā€œWal, I reckon I do,ā€ he replied, looking as if a storm had blown over him. ā€œStranger, Iā€™ll look you up the next time I come to town.ā€

Then he went out.

Laramie had eyes like flint striking fire.

He breathed a deep breath and looked around the room before his gaze fixed again on Duane.

ā€œWal,ā€ he replied, speaking low. ā€œYouā€™ve picked the right men. Now, who in the hell are you?ā€

Reaching into the inside pocket of his buckskin vest, Duane turned the lining out. A star-shaped bright silver object flashed as he shoved it, pocket and all, under Jimā€™s hard eyes.

ā€œRANGER!ā€ he whispered, cracking the table with his fist. ā€œYou sure rung true to me.ā€

ā€œLaramie, do you know whoā€™s boss of this secret gang of rustlers hereabouts?ā€ asked Duane, bluntly. It was characteristic of him to come sharp to the point. His voiceā€”something deep, easy, cool about himā€”seemed to steady Laramie.

ā€œNo,ā€ replied Laramie.

ā€œDoes anybody know?ā€ went on Duane.

ā€œWal, I reckon thereā€™s not one honest native who KNOWS.ā€

ā€œBut you have your suspicions?ā€

ā€œWe have.ā€

ā€œGive me your idea about this crowd that hangs round the saloonsā€”the regulars.ā€

ā€œJest a bad lot,ā€ replied Laramie, with the quick assurance of knowledge. ā€œMost of them have

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