arisen in him.

"Yes, Cal Bain's in town, full of bad whisky an' huntin' for
you," repeated the elder man, gravely.

"It's the second time," muttered Duane, as if to himself.

"Son, you can't avoid a meetin'. Leave town till Cal sobers up.
He ain't got it in for you when he's not drinkin'."

"But what's he want me for?" demanded Duane. "To insult me
again? I won't stand that twice."

"He's got a fever that's rampant in Texas these days, my boy.
He wants gun-play. If he meets you he'll try to kill you."

Here it stirred in Duane again, that bursting gush of blood,
like a wind of flame shaking all his inner being, and subsiding
to leave him strangely chilled.

"Kill me! What for?" he asked.

"Lord knows there ain't any reason. But what's that to do with
most of the shootin' these days? Didn't five cowboys over to
Everall's kill one another dead all because they got to jerkin'
at a quirt among themselves? An' Cal has no reason to love you.
His girl was sweet on you."

"I quit when I found out she was his girl."