nicating with me."

Long after the lights were out and the low hum of voices had ceased
round the camp-fire Duane lay wide awake, eyes staring into the
blackness, marveling over the strange events of the day. He was humble,
grateful to the depths of his soul. A huge and crushing burden had been
lifted from his heart. He welcomed this hazardous service to the man who
had saved him. Thought of his mother and sister and Uncle Jim, of his
home, of old friends came rushing over him the first time in years that
he had happiness in the memory. The disgrace he had put upon them would
now be removed; and in the light of that, his wasted life of the past,
and its probable tragic end in future service as atonement changed their
aspects. And as he lay there, with the approach of sleep finally dimming
the vividness of his thought, so full of mystery, shadowy faces floated
in the blackness around him, haunting him as he had always been haunted.

It was broad daylight when he awakened. MacNelly was calling him to
breakfast. Outside sounded voices of men, crackling of fires, snorting
and stamping of horses, the barking of dogs. Duane rolled out of his
blankets and made good use of the soap and towel and razor and brush
near by on a bench--things of rare luxury to an outlaw on the ride. The
face he saw in the mirror was as strange as the past he had tried so
hard to recall. Then he stepped to the door and went out.

The rangers were eating in a circle round a tarpaulin spread upon the
ground.

"Fellows," said MacNelly, "shake hands with Buck Duane. He's on secret
ranger service for me. Service that'll likely make you all hump soon!
Mind you, keep mum about it."

The rangers surprised Duane with a roaring greeting, the warmth of which
he soon divined was divided between pride of his acquisition to their
ranks and eagerness to meet that violent service of which their captain
hinted. They were jolly, wild fellows, with just enough gravity in
their welcome to show Duane their respect and appreciation, while not
forgetting his lone-wolf record. When he had seated himself in that
circle, now one of them, a feeling subtle and uplifting pervaded him.

After the meal Captain MacNelly drew Duane aside.

"Here's the money. Make it go as far as you can. Better strike straight
for El Paso, snook around there and hear things. Then go to Valentine.
That's near the river and within fifty miles or so of the edge of the
Rim Rock. Somewhere up ther