The Lone Star Ranger and the Mysterious Rider Read Online Free PDF Page B

never break to dawn, that there was no end to the melancholy, brooding plain. But at length a grayness blotted out the stars and mantled the level of mesquite and cactus.
    Dawn caught the fugitives at a green camping-site on the bank of a rocky little stream. Stevens fell a dead weight into Duane’s arms, and one look at the haggard face showed Duane that the outlaw had taken his last ride. He knew it, too. Yet that cheerfulness prevailed.
    â€œBuck, my feet are orful tired packin’ them heavy boots,” he said, and seemed immensely relieved when Duane had removed them.
    This matter of the outlaw’s boots was strange, Duane thought. He made Stevens as comfortable as possible, then attended to his own needs. And the outlaw took up the thread of his conversation where he had left off the night before.
    â€œThis trail splits up a ways from here, an’ every branch of it leads to a hole where you’ll find men—a few, mebbe, like yourself—some like me—an’ gangs of no-good hoss-thieves, rustlers, an’ such. It’s easy livin’, Buck. I reckon, though, that you’ll not find it easy. You’ll never mix in. You’ll be a lone wolf. I seen that right off. Wal, if a man can stand the loneliness, an’ if he’s quick on the draw, mebbe lone-wolfin’ it is the best. Shore I don’t know. But these fellas in here will be suspicious of a man who goes it alone. If they get a chance they’ll kill you.”
    Stevens asked for water several times. He had forgotten or he did not want the whisky. His voice grew perceptibly weaker.
    â€œBe quiet,” said Duane. “Talking uses up your strength.”
    â€œAw, I’ll talk till—I’m done,” he replied, doggedly. “See here, pard, you can gamble on what I’m tellin’ you. An’ it ’ll be useful. From this camp we’ll—you’ll meet men right along. An’ none of them will be honest men. All the same, some are better ’n others. I’ve lived along the river fer twelve years. There’s three big gangs of outlaws. King Fisher—you know him, I reckon, fer he’s half the time livin’ among respectable folks. King is a pretty good feller. It ’ll do to tie up with him an’ his gang. Now, there’s Cheseldine, who hangs out in the Rim Rock way up the river. He’s an outlaw chief. I never seen him, though I stayed once right in his camp. Late years he’s got rich an’ keeps back pretty well hid. But Bland—I knowed Bland fer years. An’ I haven’t any use fer him. Bland has the biggest gang. You ain’t likely to miss strikin’ his place sometime or other. He’s got a regular town, I might say. Shore there’s some gamblin’ an’ gun-fightin’ goin’ on at Bland’s camp all the time. Bland has killed some twenty men, an’ thet’s not countin’ Mexicans.”
    Here Stevens took another drink and then rested for a while.
    â€œYou ain’t likely to get on with Bland,” he resumed, presently. “You’re too strappin’ big an’ good-lookin’ to please the chief. Fer he’s got women in his camp. Then he’d be jealous of your possibilities with a gun. Shore I reckon he’d be careful, though. Bland’s no fool, an’ he loves his hide. I reckon any of the other gangs would be better fer you when you ain’t goin’ it alone.”
    Apparently that exhausted the fund of information and advice Stevens had been eager to impart. He lapsed into silence and lay with closed eyes. Meanwhile the sun rose warm; the breeze waved the mesquites; the birds came down to splash in the shallow stream; Duane dozed in a comfortable seat. By and by something roused him. Stevens was once more talking, but with a changed tone.
    â€œFeller’s name—was Brown,” he rambled. “We fell out—over a hoss I stole from