sion to kill Poggin, not for the state, nor for his word
to MacNelly, but for himself. Had his father's blood and the hard years
made Duane the kind of man who instinctively wanted to meet Poggin? He
was sworn to MacNelly's service, and he fought himself to keep that, and
that only, in his mind.

Duane ascertained that Fairdale was situated two days' ride from
Bradford toward the north. There was a stage which made the journey
twice a week.

Next morning Duane mounted his horse and headed for Fairdale. He rode
leisurely, as he wanted to learn all he could about the country.
There were few ranches. The farther he traveled the better grazing he
encountered, and, strange to note, the fewer herds of cattle.

It was just sunset when he made out a cluster of adobe houses that
marked the half-way point between Bradford and Fairdale. Here, Duane had
learned, was stationed a comfortable inn for wayfarers.

When he drew up before the inn the landlord and his family and a number
of loungers greeted him laconically.

"Beat the stage in, hey?" remarked one.

"There she comes now," said another. "Joel shore is drivin' to-night."

Far down the road Duane saw a cloud of dust and horses and a lumbering
coach. When he had looked after the needs of his horse he returned to
the group before the inn. They awaited the stage with that
interest common to isolated people. Presently it rolled up, a large
mud-bespattered and dusty vehicle, littered with baggage on top and
tied on behind. A number of passengers alighted, three of whom excited
Duane's interest. One was a tall, dark, striking-looking man, and the
other two were ladies, wearing long gray ulsters and veils. Duane heard
the proprietor of the inn address the man as Colonel Longstreth, and as
the party entered the inn Duane's quick ears caught a few words which
acquainted him with the fact that Longstreth was the Mayor of Fairdale.

Duane passed inside himself to learn that supper would soon be ready.
At table he found himself opposite the three who had attracted his
attention.

"Ruth, I envy the lucky cowboys," Longstreth was saying.

Ruth was a curly-headed girl with gray or hazel eyes.

"I'm crazy to ride bronchos," she said.

Duane gathered she was on a visit to western Texas. The other girl's
deep voice, sweet like a bell, made Duane regard her closer. She had
beauty as he had never seen it in another woman. She was slender, but
the development of her figure gave Duane