ILLUSTRATIONS
| PAGE | |
| Hicks drew his and slapped me over the head with it, | |
| even as my finger curled on the trigger | [Frontispiece] |
| Bedded in the soft earth underneath lay the slim buckskin sacks | [159] |
| "There's been too much blood shed over that wretched | |
| gold already. Let them have it" | [212] |
| A war for the open road against an enemy whose only | |
| weapon was his unswerving bulk | [256] |