r-whitened hand. Manifestly he had proclaimed himself
a champion and partner of Duane's, with all the pride an old man could
feel in a young one whom he admired.

"Wal," he resumed, presently, "thet's your introduction to the border,
Buck. An' your card was a high trump. You'll be let severely alone by
real gun-fighters an' men like Bland, Alloway, Rugg, an' the bosses of
the other gangs. After all, these real men are men, you know, an' onless
you cross them they're no more likely to interfere with you than you
are with them. But there's a sight of fellers like Bosomer in the river
country. They'll all want your game. An' every town you ride into will
scare up some cowpuncher full of booze or a long-haired four-flush
gunman or a sheriff--an' these men will be playin' to the crowd an'
yellin' for your blood. Thet's the Texas of it. You'll have to hide fer
ever in the brakes or you'll have to KILL such men. Buck, I reckon this
ain't cheerful news to a decent chap like you. I'm only tellin' you
because I've taken a likin' to you, an' I seen right off thet you ain't
border-wise. Let's eat now, an' afterward we'll go out so the gang can
see you're not hidin'."

When Duane went out with Euchre the sun was setting behind a blue range
of mountains across the river in Mexico. The valley appeared to open to
the southwest. It was a tranquil, beautiful scene. Somewhere in a house
near at hand a woman was singing. And in the road Duane saw a little
Mexican boy driving home some cows, one of which wore a bell. The
sweet, happy voice of a woman and a whistling barefoot boy--these seemed
utterly out of place here.

Euchre presently led to the square and the row of rough houses Duane
remembered. He almost stepped on a wide imprint in the dust where
Bosomer had confronted him. And a sudden fury beset him that he should
be affected strangely by the sight of it.

"Let's have a look in here," said Euchre.

Duane had to bend his head to enter the door. He found himself in a very
large room inclosed by adobe walls and roofed with brush. It was full of
rude benches, tables, seats. At one corner a number of kegs and barrels
lay side by side in a rack. A Mexican boy was lighting lamps hung on
posts that sustained the log rafters of the roof.

"The only feller who's goin' to put a close eye on you is Benson,"
said Euchre. "He runs the place an' sells drinks. The gang calls him
Jackrabbit Benson, because he's always got his eye peeled an' hi