"Trade with me." "Wal, stranger, I'm shore always ready to trade," drawled the man.

"But ain't you a little swift ?" Duane glanced back up the road.

His pursuers were entering the village.
"I'm Duane--Buck Duane," he cried, menacingly.

"Will you trade?
Hurry!" The rancher, turning white, dropped his foot from the stirrup and fell back.
"I reckon I'll trade," he said.
Bounding up, Duane dug spurs into the bay's flanks.

The horse snorted in fright, plunged into a run.