On the outskirts of the village there was a grave overgrown by brush so that the rude-lettered post which marked it was scarcely visible to Duane as he rode by.

He had never read the inscription.

But he thought now of Hardin, no other than the erstwhile ally of Bland.

For many years Hardin had harassed the stockmen and ranchers in and around Mercer.

On an evil day for him he or his outlaws had beaten and robbed a man who once succored Duane when sore in need.