en while they executed
he basked in the sunshine before one or another of the public places
he owned. He was there in the Ord den now, getting ready to plan the
biggest job yet. It was a bank-robbery; but where, Fletcher had not as
yet been advised.

Then when Duane had pumped the now amenable outlaw of all details
pertaining to the present he gathered data and facts and places covering
a period of ten years Fletcher had been with Cheseldine. And herewith
was unfolded a history so dark in its bloody regime, so incredible in
its brazen daring, so appalling in its proof of the outlaw's sweep and
grasp of the country from Pecos to Rio Grande, that Duane was
stunned. Compared to this Cheseldine of the Big Bend, to this rancher,
stock-buyer, cattle-speculator, property-holder, all the outlaws Duane
had ever known sank into insignificance. The power of the man stunned
Duane; the strange fidelity given him stunned Duane; the intricate
inside working of his great system was equally stunning. But when Duane
recovered from that the old terrible passion to kill consumed him,
and it raged fiercely and it could not be checked. If that red-handed
Poggin, if that cold-eyed, dead-faced Knell had only been at Ord! But
they were not, and Duane with help of time got what he hoped was the
upper hand of himself.

CHAPTER XXII

Again inaction and suspense dragged at Duane's spirit. Like a leashed
hound with a keen scent in his face Duane wanted to leap forth when he
was bound. He almost fretted. Something called to him over the bold,
wild brow of Mount Ord. But while Fletcher stayed in Ord waiting for
Knell and Poggin, or for orders, Duane knew his game was again a waiting
one.

But one day there were signs of the long quiet of Ord being broken. A
messenger strange to Duane rode in on a secret mission that had to do
with Fletcher. When he went away Fletcher became addicted to thoughtful
moods and lonely walks. He seldom drank, and this in itself was a
striking contrast to former behavior. The messenger came again. Whatever
communication he brought, it had a remarkable effect upon the outlaw.
Duane was present in the tavern when the fellow arrived, saw the few
words whispered, but did not hear them. Fletcher turned white with anger
or fear, perhaps both, and he cursed like a madman. The messenger,
a lean, dark-faced, hard-riding fellow reminding Duane of the cowboy
Guthrie, left the tavern without even a drink and rode away off to th