here he waited, and minutes were eternities. He saw no
person near him; he heard no sound. He was insulated in his unnatural
strain.

At a few minutes before half past two a dark, compact body of horsemen
appeared far down, turning into the road. They came at a sharp trot--a
group that would have attracted attention anywhere at any time. They
came a little faster as they entered town; then faster still; now they
were four blocks away, now three, now two. Duane backed down the middle
of the vestibule, up the steps, and halted in the center of the wide
doorway.

There seemed to be a rushing in his ears through which pierced sharp,
ringing clip-clop of iron hoofs. He could see only the corner of the
street. But suddenly into that shot lean-limbed dusty bay horses. There
was a clattering of nervous hoofs pulled to a halt.

Duane saw the tawny Poggin speak to his companions. He dismounted
quickly. They followed suit. They had the manner of ranchers about to
conduct some business. No guns showed. Poggin started leisurely for the
bank door, quickening step a little. The others, close together, came
behind him. Blossom Kane had a bag in his left hand. Jim Fletcher was
left at the curb, and he had already gathered up the bridles.

Poggin entered the vestibule first, with Kane on one side, Boldt on the
other, a little in his rear.

As he strode in he saw Duane.

"HELL'S FIRE!" he cried.

Something inside Duane burst, piercing all of him with cold. Was it that
fear?

"BUCK DUANE!" echoed Kane.

One instant Poggin looked up and Duane looked down.

Like a striking jaguar Poggin moved. Almost as quickly Duane threw his
arm.

The guns boomed almost together.

Duane felt a blow just before he pulled trigger. His thoughts came fast,
like the strange dots before his eyes. His rising gun had loosened in
his hand. Poggin had drawn quicker! A tearing agony encompassed his
breast. He pulled--pulled--at random. Thunder of booming shots all about
him! Red flashes, jets of smoke, shrill yells! He was sinking. The end;
yes, the end! With fading sight he saw Kane go down, then Boldt. But
supreme torture, bitterer than death, Poggin stood, mane like a lion's,
back to the wall, bloody-faced, grand, with his guns spouting red!

All faded, darkened. The thunder deadened. Duane fell, seemed floating.
There it drifted--Ray Longstreth's sweet face, white, with dark, tragic
eyes, fading from his sight... fading.. . fading...

CHAPT