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Updated: June 25, 2025
Then Duane went from place to place, corner to corner, bar to bar, watching, listening, recording. The excitement had preceded him, and speculation was rife. He thought best to keep out of it. After dark he stole up to Longstreth's ranch.
Then he took to the open country and ran straight for the green hill where Longstreth's house stood. Duane had almost caught Snecker when he reached the shrubbery and trees and there eluded him. But Duane kept him in sight, in the shade, on the paths, and up the road into the courtyard, and he saw Snecker go straight for Longstreth's house.
"Who're you?" asked Duane, quietly. "Bo Snecker," he said. "What'd you hide here for?" He appeared to grow sullen. "Reckoned I'd be as safe in Longstreth's as anywheres." "Ranger, what'll you do with him?" Lawson queried, as if uncertain, now the capture was made. "I'll see to that," replied Duane, and he pushed Snecker in front of him out into the court.
"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.
But the rattle inside Longstreth's room was mingling with little dull thuds of falling dirt. The adobe wall, merely dried mud, was crumbling. Duane distinctly felt a tremor pass through it. Then the blood gushed back to his heart. "What in the hell!" exclaimed Longstreth. "I smell dust," said Lawson, sharply.
Longstreth, you're ignorant of the power of Texas Rangers." "You'll come none of your damned ranger stunts out here. I'll block you." That passionate reply of Longstreth's was the signal Duane had been waiting for. He had helped on the crisis. He wanted to force Longstreth's hand and show the town his stand. Duane backed clear of everybody. "Men! I call on you all!" cried Duane, piercingly.
"The hell you say!" exclaimed Knell. "Yes. Go to Ord and give Jim Fletcher a hunch. He'll get Poggin, and they'll fix even Buck Duane." "All right. I'll do my best. But if I run into Duane " "Don't run into him!" Longstreth's voice fairly rang with the force of its passion and command.
There was never any mistaking the strange and terrible light of eyes like those. More than once Duane had a chance to aim at them, at the top of Longstreth's head, at a strip of his side. Longstreth flung Lawson's body off. But even as it dropped, before Longstreth could leap, as he surely intended, for the gun, Duane covered him, called piercingly to him: "Don't jump for the gun! Don't!
Duane bent his steps toward the Longstreth's ranchhouse. He had so much to think about that he never knew where the time went. This night when he reached the edge of the shrubbery he heard Lawson's well-known footsteps and saw Longstreth's door open, flashing a broad bar of light in the darkness. Lawson crossed the threshold, the door closed, and all was dark again outside.
The robber Bill lay where he had fallen, and Duane guessed he had made a fair shot, after all. And, lastly, the thing that struck Duane most of all was Longstreth's rage. He never saw such passion. Like a caged lion Longstreth stalked and roared. There came a quieter moment in which the innkeeper shrilly protested: "Man, what're you ravin' aboot? Nobody's hurt, an' thet's lucky.
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