CONTENTS

CHAPTER		PAGE
I	Concerning Dawes	[1]
II	Slick Duds	[14]
III	The Serpent Trail	[20]
IV	The Hold-Up	[26]
V	The Unexpected	[36]
VI	A Man Makes Plans	[51]
VII	The Shadow of the Past	[59]
VIII	Concerning “Squint”	[66]
IX	A Man Lies	[75]
X	The Frame-Up	[86]
XI	“No Fun Fooling Her”	[91]
XII	Lifting the Mask	[106]
XIII	The Shadow of Trouble	[113]
XIV	The Face of a Fighter	[128]
XV	Gloom—and Plans	[142]
XVI	A Man Becomes a Brute	[153]
XVII	The Wrong Ankle	[172]
XVIII	The Beast Again	[186]
XIX	The Ambush	[193]
XX	A Fight to a Finish	[200]
XXI	A Man Faces Death	[212]
XXII	Looking for Trouble	[218]
XXIII	A World-Old Longing	[225]
XXIV	A Death Warrant	[232]
XXV	Keats Looks for “Squint”	[238]
XXVI	Keats Finds “Squint”	[245]
XXVII	Besieged	[254]
XXXIII	The Fugitive	[259]
XXIX	The Captive	[264]
XXX	Parsons Has Human Instincts	[270]
XXXI	A Rescue	[277]
XXXII	Taylor Becomes Riled	[284]
XXXIII	Retribution	[290]
XXXIV	The Will of the Mob	[304]
XXXV	Triumph at Last	[315]

THE RANCHMAN

CHAPTER I—CONCERNING DAWES

The air in the Pullman was hot and, despite the mechanical contrivances built into the coach to prevent such a contingency, the dust from the right-of-way persisted in filtering through crevices.

Even the electric fans futilely combated the heat; their droning hum bespoke terrific revolutions which did not materially lessen the discomfort of the occupants of the coach; and the dry, dead dust of the desert, the glare of a white-hot sun, the continuing panorama of waste land, rolling past the car windows, afforded not one cool vista to assuage the torture of travel.

For hours after leaving Kansas City, several of the passengers had diligently gazed out of the windows. But when they had passed the vast grass plains and had entered the desert, where their eyes met nothing but endless stretches of feathery alkali dust, beds of dead lava, and clumps of cacti with thorny spire and spatula blade defiantly upthrust as though in mockery of all life—the passengers drew the shades and settled down in their seats to endure the discomfort of it all.

A blasé tourist forward reclined in one seat and rested his legs on another. From under the peak of a cap pulled well down over his eyes he smiled cynically at his fellow-passengers, noting the various manifestations of their discomfort. The tourist was a transcontinental traveler of note and he had few expectations. It amused him to watch those who had.

A girl of about twenty, seated midway in the coach to the left of the tourist, had been an intent watcher of the desert. With the covert eye of the tourist upon her she stiffened, stared sharply out of the window, then drew back, shuddering, a queer pallor on her face.