He stood still in his tracks; he paced the room; he sat down, lay down, put himself in awkward positions; and from every position he practiced throwing his gun--practiced it till he was hot and tired and his arm ached and his hand burned.

That practice he determined to keep up every day.

It was one thing, at least, that would help pass the weary hours.
Later he went outdoors to the cooler shade of the cottonwoods.

From this point he could see a good deal of the valley.

Under different circumstances Duane felt that he would have enjoyed such a beautiful spot.