time
to spare, so he saved the horse. Knell would be leaving the rendezvous
about the time Duane turned back toward Ord. Between noon and sunset
they would meet.

The night wore on. The moon sank behind low mountains in the west.
The stars brightened for a while, then faded. Gray gloom enveloped the
world, thickened, lay like smoke over the road. Then shade by shade it
lightened, until through the transparent obscurity shone a dim light.

Duane reached Bradford before dawn. He dismounted some distance from the
tracks, tied his horse, and then crossed over to the station. He heard
the clicking of the telegraph instrument, and it thrilled him. An
operator sat inside reading. When Duane tapped on the window he looked
up with startled glance, then went swiftly to unlock the door.

"Hello. Give me paper and pencil. Quick," whispered Duane.

With trembling hands the operator complied. Duane wrote out the message
he had carefully composed.

"Send this--repeat it to make sure--then keep mum. I'll see you again.
Good-by."

The operator stared, but did not speak a word.

Duane left as stealthily and swiftly as he had come. He walked his horse
a couple miles back on the road and then rested him till break of day.
The east began to redden, Duane turned grimly in the direction of Ord.

When Duane swung into the wide, grassy square on the outskirts of Ord
he saw a bunch of saddled horses hitched in front of the tavern. He knew
what that meant. Luck still favored him. If it would only hold! But he
could ask no more. The rest was a matter of how greatly he could make
his power felt. An open conflict against odds lay in the balance. That
would be fatal to him, and to avoid it he had to trust to his name and a
presence he must make terrible. He knew outlaws. He knew what qualities
held them. He knew what to exaggerate.

There was not an outlaw in sight. The dusty horses had covered distance
that morning. As Duane dismounted he heard loud, angry voices inside the
tavern. He removed coat and vest, hung them over the pommel. He packed
two guns, one belted high on the left hip, the other swinging low on the
right side. He neither looked nor listened, but boldly pushed the door
and stepped inside.

The big room was full of men, and every face pivoted toward him. Knell's
pale face flashed into Duane's swift sight; then Boldt's, then Blossom
Kane's, then Panhandle Smith's, then Fletcher's, then others that were
familiar, and last t