urned to Duane with an expression that denoted resignation, and yet a
spirit which showed wherein they were of the same blood.

"You've got a fast horse--the fastest I know of in this country. After
you meet Bain hurry back home. I'll have a saddle-bag packed for you and
the horse ready."

With that he turned on his heel and went into the house, leaving Duane
to revolve in his mind his singular speech. Buck wondered presently if
he shared his uncle's opinion of the result of a meeting between himself
and Bain. His thoughts were vague. But on the instant of final decision,
when he had settled with himself that he would meet Bain, such a storm
of passion assailed him that he felt as if he was being shaken with
ague. Yet it was all internal, inside his breast, for his hand was like
a rock and, for all he could see, not a muscle about him quivered. He
had no fear of Bain or of any other man; but a vague fear of himself, of
this strange force in him, made him ponder and shake his head. It was as
if he had not all to say in this matter. There appeared to have been in
him a reluctance to let himself go, and some voice, some spirit from a
distance, something he was not accountable for, had compelled him.
That hour of Duane's life was like years of actual living, and in it he
became a thoughtful man.

He went into the house and buckled on his belt and gun. The gun was a
Colt.45, six-shot, and heavy, with an ivory handle. He had packed it,
on and off, for five years. Before that it had been used by his father.
There were a number of notches filed in the bulge of the ivory handle.
This gun was the one his father had fired twice after being shot
through the heart, and his hand had stiffened so tightly upon it in
the death-grip that his fingers had to be pried open. It had never been
drawn upon any man since it had come into Duane's possession. But the
cold, bright polish of the weapon showed how it had been used. Duane
could draw it with inconceivable rapidity, and at twenty feet he could
split a card pointing edgewise toward him.

Duane wished to avoid meeting his mother. Fortunately, as he thought,
she was away from home. He went out and down the path toward the gate.
The air was full of the fragrance of blossoms and the melody of birds.
Outside in the road a neighbor woman stood talking to a countryman in a
wagon; they spoke to him; and he heard, but did not reply. Then he began
to stride down the road toward the town.

Wel