The Big-Town Round-Up   By: William MacLeod Raine (1871-1954)

THE BIG TOWN ROUND UP

by

WILLIAM MACLEOD RAINE

Author of A Man Four Square, The Sheriff's Son, Oh, You Tex!, Etc.

Frontispiece by George Giguere

[Frontispiece: Hard knuckles pressed cruelly into the soft throat of the Villager. (Transcriber's note: most of illustration missing; enough of its caption remaining to locate its entirety in the book's text).]

Grosset & Dunlap Publishers New York Made in the United States of America Copyright, 1920, by William Macleod Raine All Rights Reserved

CONTENTS

FOREWORD I. CONCERNING A STREET TWELVE MILES LONG II. CLAY APPOINTS HIMSELF CHAPERON III. THE BIG TOWN IV. A NEW USE FOR A WATER HOSE V. A CONTRIBUTION TO THE SALVATION ARMY VI. CLAY TAKES A TRANSFER VII. ARIZONA FOLLOWS ITS LAWLESS IMPULSE VIII. "THE BEST SINGLE BARRELED SPORT IVER I MET" IX. BEATRICE UP STAGE X. JOHNNIE SEES THE POSTMASTER XI. JOHNNIE GREEN MATCH MAKER XII. CLAY READS AN AD AND ANSWERS IT XIII. A LATE EVENING CALL XIV. STARRING AS A SECOND STORY MAN XV. THE GANGMAN SEES RED XVI. A FACE IN THE NIGHT XVII. JOHNNIE MAKES A JOKE XVIII. BEATRICE GIVES AN OPTION XIX. A LADY WEARS A RING XX. THE CAUTIOUS GUY SLIPS UP XXI. AT THE HEAD OF THE STAIRS XXII. TWO MEN IN A LOCKED ROOM XXIII. JOHNNIE COMES INTO HIS OWN XXIV. CLAY LAYS DOWN THE LAW XXV. JOHNNIE SAYS HE IS MUCH OBLIGED XXVI. A LOCKED GATE XXVII. "NO VIOLENCE" XXVIII. IN BAD XXIX. BAD NEWS XXX. BEE MAKES A MORNING CALL XXXI. INTO THE HANDS OF HIS ENEMY XXXII. MR. LINDSAY RECEIVES XXXIII. BROMFIELD MAKES AN OFFER XXXIV. BEATRICE QUALIFIES AS A SHERLOCK HOLMES XXXV. TWO AND TWO MAKE FOUR XXXVI. A BOOMERANG XXXVII. ON THE CARPET XXXVIII. A CONVERSATION ABOUT STOCK XXXIX. IN CENTRAL PARK XL. CLAY PLAYS SECOND FIDDLE XLI. THE NEW DAY

THE BIG TOWN ROUND UP

FOREWORD

The driver of the big car throttled down. Since he had swung away from the dusty road to follow a wagon track across the desert, the speedometer had registered many miles. His eyes searched the ground in front to see whether the track led up the brow of the hill or dipped into the sandy wash.

On the breeze there floated to him the faint, insistent bawl of thirsty cattle. The car leaped forward again, climbed the hill, and closed in upon a remuda of horses watched by two wranglers.

The chauffeur stopped the machine and shouted a question at the nearest rider, who swung his mount and cantered up. He was a lean, tanned youth in overalls, jumper, wide sombrero, high heeled boots, and shiny leather chaps. A girl in the tonneau appraised with quick, eager eyes this horseman of the plains. Perhaps she found him less picturesque than she had hoped. He was not there for moving picture purposes. Nothing on horse or man held its place for any reason except utility. The leathers protected the legs of the boy from the spines of the cactus and the thorns of the mesquite, the wide flap of the hat his face from the slash of catclaws when he drove headlong through the brush after flying cattle. The steel horn of the saddle was built to check a half ton of bolting hill steer and fling it instantly. The rope, the Spanish bit, the tapaderas , all could justify their place in his equipment.

"Where's the round up?" asked the driver.

The coffee brown youth gave a little lift of his head to the right. He was apparently a man of few words. But his answer sufficed. The bawling of anxious cattle was now loud and persistent.