s round his arms. The spellbound crowd awoke to hoarse exclamations.

"See there, my locoed gents, how easy you'd hang the wrong man," burst
out the cowboy, as he made the rope-end hiss. "You-all are a lot of wise
rangers. Haw! haw!"

He freed Duane and thrust the bone-handled gun back in Duane's holster.

"You Abe, there. Reckon you pulled a stunt! But don't try the like
again. And, men, I'll gamble there's a hell of a lot of bad work Buck
Duane's named for--which all he never done. Clear away there. Where's
his hoss? Duane, the road's open out of Shirley."

Sibert swept the gaping watchers aside and pressed Duane toward the
horse, which another cowboy held. Mechanically Duane mounted, felt a
lift as he went up. Then the cowboy's hard face softened in a smile.

"I reckon it ain't uncivil of me to say--hit that road quick!" he said,
frankly.

He led the horse out of the crowd. Aiken joined him, and between them
they escorted Duane across the plaza. The crowd appeared irresistibly
drawn to follow.

Aiken paused with his big hand on Duane's knee. In it, unconsciously
probably, he still held the gun.

"Duane, a word with you," he said. "I believe you're not so black as
you've been painted. I wish there was time to say more. Tell me this,
anyway. Do you know the Ranger Captain MacNelly?"

"I do not," replied Duane, in surprise.

"I met him only a week ago over in Fairfield," went on Aiken, hurriedly.
"He declared you never killed my wife. I didn't believe him--argued with
him. We almost had hard words over it. Now--I'm sorry. The last thing he
said was: 'If you ever see Duane don't kill him. Send him into my camp
after dark!' He meant something strange. What--I can't say. But he was
right, and I was wrong. If Lucy had batted an eye I'd have killed you.
Still, I wouldn't advise you to hunt up MacNelly's camp. He's clever.
Maybe he believes there's no treachery in his new ideas of ranger
tactics. I tell you for all it's worth. Good-by. May God help you
further as he did this day!"

Duane said good-by and touched the horse with his spurs.

"So long, Buck!" called Sibert, with that frank smile breaking warm over
his brown face; and he held his sombrero high.

CHAPTER XIV

When Duane reached the crossing of the roads the name Fairfield on the
sign-post seemed to be the thing that tipped the oscillating balance of
decision in favor of that direction.

He answered here to unfathomable impulse. If he had been