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Her life, perhaps her happiness, can be saved! Hurry, man! Your answer!" "Suppose I refuse?" he queried, with a dark and terrible earnestness. "Then I'll kill you in your tracks! You can't move a hand! Your word or death! Hurry, Longstreth! Be a man! For her sake! Quick! Another second now I'll kill you!"
His voice was clear and loud, almost piercing. "Yes," replied Longstreth. Like flint he seemed, yet Duane felt his intense interest. "I've arrested a criminal," said Duane. "Arrested a criminal!" ejaculated Longstreth. "You? Who're you?" "I'm a ranger," replied Duane. A significant silence ensued. "I charge Snecker with assault on Laramie and attempted robbery if not murder.
The evening was warm; the doors were open; and in the twilight the only lamps that had been lit were in Longstreth's big sitting-room, at the far end of the house. When a buckboard drove up and Longstreth and Lawson alighted, Duane was well hidden in the bushes, so well screened that he could get but a fleeting glimpse of Longstreth as he went in.
Cousin, go on with your party. I'll take a couple of cowboys and go with this this Texas Ranger." "Thanks," said Duane, coolly, as he eyed Lawson. "Perhaps you'll be able to find Snecker quicker than I could." "What do you mean?" demanded Lawson, and now he grew livid. Evidently he was a man of fierce quick passions. "Don't quarrel," said Miss Longstreth. "Floyd, you go with him. Please hurry.
Duane began to squeeze his body through the narrow passage toward the patio. "Hear him!" yelled Lawson. "This side!" "No, he's going that way," yelled Longstreth. The tramp of heavy boots lent Duane the strength of desperation. He was not shirking a fight, but to be cornered like a trapped coyote was another matter. He almost tore his clothes off in that passage. The dust nearly stifled him.
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.
For he knew, whatever happened, of one thing he was sure he would have to kill either Longstreth or Lawson. Longstreth might be trapped into arrest; but Lawson had no sense, no control, no fear. He would snarl like a panther and go for his gun, and he would have to be killed. This, of all consummations, was the one to be calculated upon.
That meant the inevitable spilling of blood sooner or later, and so he grew into the leader because he was the strongest. Whatever he is to be judged for, I think he could have been infinitely worse." On the morning of the twenty-sixth Duane rode into Bradford in time to catch the early train. His wounds did not seriously incapacitate him. Longstreth was with him.
There were mesquites on the ridge, and Duane sought the shade beneath them. It was the noon-hour, with hot, glary sun and no wind. Here Duane had to have out his fight. Duane was utterly unlike himself; he could not bring the old self back; he was not the same man he once had been. But he could understand why. It was because of Ray Longstreth. Temptation assailed him. To have her his wife!
Longstreth entered, turned up the light, and, taking a box of cigars from the table, he carried it out. "Here, you fellows, go outside and smoke," he said. "Knell, come on in now. Let's get it over." He returned, sat down, and lighted a cigar for himself. He put his booted feet on the table. Duane saw that the room was comfortably, even luxuriously furnished.
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