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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.
We don't want you out here. Fairdale doesn't need you." "That's a lie, Longstreth," retorted Duane. "I've letters from Fairdale citizens all begging for ranger service." Longstreth turned white. The veins corded at his temples. He appeared about to burst into rage. He was at a loss for quick reply. Floyd Lawson rushed in and up to the table.
"Why do men apparently honest men seem to be so close-mouthed here? Is that a fact, or only my impression?" "It's a sure fact," replied Laramie, darkly. "Men have lost cattle an' property in Fairdale lost them honestly or otherwise, as hasn't been proved. An' in some cases when they talked hinted a little they was found dead. Apparently held up an robbed. But dead. Dead men don't talk!
It was thought of Poggin more than thought of success for MacNelly's plan. Duane felt dubious over this emotion. Next day he set out for Bradford. He was glad to get away from Fairdale for a while. But the hours and the miles in no wise changed the new pain in his heart. The only way he could forget Miss Longstreth was to let his mind dwell upon Poggin, and even this was not always effective.
May I look for him?" "If you are indeed a ranger." Duane produced his papers. Miss Longstreth haughtily refused to look at them. "Miss Longstreth, I've come to make Fairdale a safer, cleaner, better place for women and children. I don't wonder at your resentment. But to doubt me insult me. Some day you may be sorry." Floyd Lawson made a violent motion with his hands. "All stuff!
He was a rich rancher; he owned half of Fairdale; he was a cattle-buyer on a large scale. Floyd Lawson was his lieutenant and associate in deals. On the afternoon of the fifth day of Duane's stay in Fairdale he returned to the inn from his usual stroll, and upon entering was amazed to have a rough-looking young fellow rush by him out of the door.
Duane received a clear warning thought that such work as seemed haunting and driving him could never be carried out in the mood under which he labored. He hung on to that thought. Several times he slowed up, then stopped, only to go on again. At length, as he mounted a low ridge, Fairdale lay bright and green before him not far away, and the sight was a conclusive check.
"Well, say so now, can't you? Laramie, you're powerful peevish to-day. It's that bump on your head. Who does Snecker work for?" "When he works at all, which sure ain't often, he rides for Longstreth." "Humph! Seems to me that Longstreth's the whole circus round Fairdale. I was some sore the other day to find I was losing good money at Longstreth's faro game.
Strange how it seems the law was stretched to favor your interest!" Duane paused in his cold, ringing speech. In the silence, both outside and inside the hall, could be heard the deep breathing of agitated men. Longstreth was indeed a study. Yet did he betray anything but rage at this interloper? "Longstreth, here's plain talk for you and Fairdale," went on Duane.
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.
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