courtyard, and he saw Snecker go straight for Longstreth's

house.
Duane was not to be turned back by that, singular as it was. He

did not stop to consider. It seemed enough to know that fate
had directed him to the path of this rancher Longstreth. Duane

entered the first open door on that side of the court. It
opened into a corridor which led into a plaza. It had wide,

smooth stone porches, and flowers and shrubbery in the center.
Duane hurried through to burst into the presence of Miss

Longstreth and a number of young people. Evidently she was
giving a little party.

Lawson stood leaning against one of the pillars that supported
the porch roof; at sight of Duane his face changed remarkably,

expressing amazement, consternation, then fear.
In the quick ensuing silence Miss Longstreth rose white as her

dress. The young women present stared in astonishment, if they
were not equally perturbed. There were cowboys present who

suddenly grew intent and still. By these things Duane gathered
that his appearance must be disconcerting. He was panting. He

wore no hat or coat. His big gun-sheath showed plainly at his
hip.

Sight of Miss Longstreth had an unaccountable effect upon
Duane. He was plunged into confusion. For the moment he saw no

one but her.
"Miss Longstreth--I came--to search--your house," panted Duane.

He hardly knew what he was saying, yet the instant he spoke he
realized that that should have been the last thing for him to

say. He had blundered. But he was not used to women, and this
dark-eyed girl made him thrill and his heart beat thickly and

his wits go scattering.
"Search my house!" exclaimed Miss Longstreth; and red succeeded

the white in her cheeks. She appeared astonished and angry.
"What for? Why, how dare you! This is unwarrantable!"

"A man--Bo Snecker--assaulted and robbed Jim Laramie," replied
Duane, hurriedly. "I chased Snecker here--saw him run into the

house."
"Here? Oh, sir, you must be mistaken. We have seen no one. In

the absence of my father I'm mistress here. I'll not permit you
to search."

Lawson appeared to come out of his astonishment. He stepped
forward.

"Ray, don't be bothered now," he said, to his cousin. "This
fellow's making a bluff. I'll settle him. See here, Mister, you

clear out!"
"I want Snecker. He's here, and I'm going to get him," replied

Duane, quietly.
"Bah! That's all a 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 violentmotion 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, blouse and trousers. Duane collared him
before any of the others could move and held the gun close

enough to make him shrink. But he did not impress Duane as
being frightened just then; nevertheless, he had a clammy face,

the pallid look of a man who had just gotten over a shock. He
peered into Duane's face, then into that of the cowboy next to

him, then into Lawson's, and if ever in Duane's life he beheld
relief it was then. That was all Duane needed to know, but he

meant to find out more if he could.
"Who're you?" asked Duane, quietly.

"Bo Snecker," he said.
"What'd you hide here for?"

He appeared to grow sullen.
"Reckoned I'd be as safe in Longstreth's as anywheres."

"Ranger, what'll you do with him?" Lawson queried, as if
uncertain, now the capture was made.

"I'll see to that," replied Duane, and he pushed Snecker in
front of him out into the court.

Duane had suddenly conceived the idea of taking Snecker before
Mayor Longstreth in the court.

When Duane arrived at the hall where court was held there were
other men there, a dozen or more, and all seemed excited;

evidently, news of Duane had preceded him. Longstreth sat at a
table up on a platform. Near him sat a thick-set grizzled man,

with deep eyes, and this was Hanford Owens, county judge. To
the right stood a tall, angular, yellow-faced fellow with a

drooping sandy mustache. Conspicuous on his vest was a huge
silver shield. This was Gorsech, one of Longstreth's sheriffs.

There were four other men whom Duane knew by sight, several
whose faces were familiar, and half a dozen strangers, all

dusty horsemen.
Longstreth pounded hard on the table to be heard. Mayor or not,

he was unable at once to quell the excitement. Gradually,