Read Online The Lone Star Ranger and the Mysterious Rider by Zane Grey - Free Book Online

an’ he won’t last the year out on the border. He killed his sweetheart’s father, got run out of Staceytown, took to stealin’ hosses. An’ next he’s here with Bland. Another boy gone wrong, an’ now shore a hard nut.”
    Euchre went on calling Duane’s attention to other men, just as he happened to glance over them. Any one of them would have been a marked man in a respectable crowd. Here each took his place with more or less distinction, according to the record of his past wild prowess and his present possibilities. Duane, realizing that he was tolerated there, received in careless friendly spirit by this terrible class of outcasts, experienced a feeling of revulsion that amounted almost to horror. Was his being there not an ugly dream? What had he in common with such ruffians? Then in a flash of memory came the painful proof—he was a criminal in sight of Texas law; he, too, was an outcast.
    For the moment Duane was wrapped up in painful reflections; but Euchre’s heavy hand, clapping with a warning hold on his arm, brought him back to outside things.
    The hum of voices, the clink of coin, the loud laughter had ceased. There was a silence that manifestly had followed some unusual word or action sufficient to still the room. It was broken by a harsh curse and the scrape of a bench on the floor. Some man had risen.
    â€œYou stacked the cards, you ——!”
    â€œSay that twice,” another voice replied, so different in its cool, ominous tone from the other.
    â€œI’ll say it twice,” returned the first gamester, in hot haste. “I’ll say it three times. I’ll whistle it. Are you deaf? You light-fingered gent! You stacked the cards!”
    Silence ensued, deeper than before, pregnant with meaning. For all that Duane saw, not an outlaw moved for a full moment. Then suddenly the room was full of disorder as men rose and ran and dived everywhere.
    â€œRun or duck!” yelled Euchre, close to Duane’s ear. With that he dashed for the door. Duane leaped after him. They ran into a jostling mob. Heavy gun-shots and hoarse yells hurried the crowd Duane was with pell-mell out into the darkness. There they all halted, and several peeped in at the door.
    â€œWho was the Kid callin’?” asked one outlaw.
    â€œBud Marsh,” replied another.
    â€œI reckon them fust shots was Bud’s. Adios Kid. It was comin’ to him,” went on yet another.
    â€œHow many shots?”
    â€œThree or four, I counted.”
    â€œThree heavy an’ one light. Thet light one was the Kid’s .38. Listen! There’s the Kid hollerin’ now. He ain’t cashed, anyway.”
    At this juncture most of the outlaws began to file back into the room. Duane thought he had seen and heard enough in Benson’s den for one night and he started slowly down the walk. Presently Euchre caught up with him.
    â€œNobody hurt much, which’s shore some strange,” he said. “The Kid—young Fuller thet I was tellin’ you about—he was drinkin’ an’ losin’. Lost his nut, too, callin’ Bud Marsh thet way. Bud’s as straight at cards as any of ’em. Somebody grabbed Bud, who shot into the roof. An’ Fuller’s arm was knocked up. He only hit a Mexican.”

CHAPTER 6
    Next morning Duane found that a moody and despondent spell had fastened on him. Wishing to be alone, he went out and walked a trail leading round the river bluff. He thought and thought. After a while he made out that the trouble with him probably was that he could not resign himself to his fate. He abhorred the possibility chance seemed to hold in store for him. He could not believe there was no hope. But what to do appeared beyond his power to tell.
    Duane had intelligence and keenness enough to see his peril—the danger threatening his character as a man, just as much as that which threatened his life. He cared vastly