Duane was silent. “See here, Duane,” began MacNelly, nervously. “You shan't take any undue risk here. You'll hide with the rest of us?” “No!” The word was wrenched from Duane. MacNelly stared, and then a strange, comprehending light seemed to flit over his face. “Duane, I can give you no orders to-day,” he said, distinctly. “I'm only offering advice. Need you take any more risks? You've done a grand job for the service--already. You've paid me a thousand times for that pardon. You've redeemed yourself.--The Governor, the adjutant-general--the whole state will rise up and honor you. The game's almost up. We'll kill these outlaws, or enough of them to break for ever their power. I say, as a ranger, need you take more risk than your captain?” Still Duane remained silent. He was locked between two forces. And one, a tide that was bursting at its bounds, seemed about to overwhelm him. Finally that side of him, the retreating self, the weaker, found a voice. “Captain, you want this job to be sure?” he asked. “Certainly.” “I've told you the way. I alone know the kind of men to be met. Just WHAT I'll do or WHERE I'll be I can't say yet. In meetings like this the moment decides. But I'll be there!” MacNelly spread wide his hands, looked helplessly at his curious and sympathetic rangers, and shook his head. “Now you've done your work--laid the trap--is this strange move of yours going to be fair to Miss Longstreth?” asked MacNelly, in significant low voice. Like a great tree chopped at the roots Duane vibrated to that. He looked up as if he had seen a ghost. Mercilessly the ranger captain went on: “You can win her, Duane! Oh, you can't fool me. I was wise in a minute. Fight with us from cover--then go back to her. You will have served the Texas Rangers as no other man has. I'll accept your resignation. You'll be free, honored, happy. That girl loves you! I saw it in her eyes. She's--” But Duane cut him short with a fierce gesture. He lunged up to his feet, and the rangers fell back. Dark, silent, grim as he had been, still there was a transformation singularly more sinister, stranger. “Enough. I'm done,” he said, somberly. “I've planned. Do we agree--or shall I meet Poggin and his gang alone?” MacNelly cursed and again threw up his hands, this time in baffled chagrin. There was deep regret in his dark eyes as they rested upon Duane. Duane was left alone. Never had his mind been so quick, so clear, so wonderful in its understanding of what had heretofore been intricate and elusive impulses of his strange nature. His determination was to meet Poggin; meet him before any one else had a chance--Poggin first--and then the others! He was as unalterable in that decision as if on the instant of its acceptance he had become stone.