bluff," sneered Lawson. "I'm on to your game. You
just wanted an excuse to break in here--to see my cousin again. When you
saw the company you invented that excuse. Now, be off, or it'll be the
worse for you."

Duane felt his face burn with a tide of hot blood. Almost he felt that
he was guilty of such motive. Had he not been unable to put this Ray
Longstreth out of his mind? There seemed to be scorn in her eyes now.
And somehow that checked his embarrassment.

"Miss Longstreth, will you let me search the house?" he asked.

"No."

"Then--I regret to say--I'll do so without your permission."

"You'll not dare!" she flashed. She stood erect, her bosom swelling.

"Pardon me, yes, I will."

"Who are you?" she demanded, suddenly.

"I'm a Texas Ranger," replied Duane.

"A TEXAS RANGER!" she echoed.

Floyd Lawson's dark face turned pale.

"Miss Longstreth, I don't need warrants to search houses," said Duane.
"I'm sorry to annoy you. I'd prefer to have your permission. A ruffian
has taken refuge here--in your father's house. He's hidden somewhere.
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! 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. I'll be nervous till--the man's found or you're sure there's not
one."

They started with several cowboys to search the house. They went through
the rooms searching, calling out, peering into dark places. It struck
Duane more than forcibly that Lawson did all the calling. He was
hurried, too, tried to keep in the lead. Duane wondered if he knew his
voice would be recognized by the hiding man. Be that as it might, it was
Duane who peered into a dark corner and then, with a gun leveled, said
"Come out!"

He came forth into the flare--a tall, slim, dark-faced youth, wearing
sombrero,