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Raw Gold A Novel   By: (1881-1972)

Book cover

First Page:

[Illustration: HICKS DREW HIS AND SLAPPED ME OVER THE HEAD WITH IT, EVEN AS MY FINGER CURLED ON THE TRIGGER.

Frontispiece. Page 161. ]

RAW GOLD

A NOVEL

BY

BERTRAND W. SINCLAIR

Illustrations by CLARENCE H. ROWE

G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY PUBLISHERS NEW YORK

Copyright, 1907, by STREET & SMITH

Copyright, 1908, by G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY

Issued June, 1908

Raw Gold

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I. The Long Arm of the Law 7

II. A Reminiscent Hour 18

III. Birds of Prey 30

IV. A Tale Half Told 59

V. Mounted Again 50

VI. Stony Crossing 58

VII. Thirty Days in Irons 69

VIII. Lyn 85

IX. An Idle Afternoon 103

X. The Vanishing Act, and the Fruits Thereof 116

XI. The Gentleman Who Rode in the Lead 130

XII. We Lose Again 146

XIII. Outlawed 163

XIV. A Close Call 179

XV. Piegan Takes a Hand 197

XVI. In the Camp of the Enemy 214

XVII. A Master stroke of Villainy 226

XVIII. Honor Among Thieves 240

XIX. The Bison 251

XX. The Mouth of Sage Creek 258

XXI. An Elemental Ally 271

XXII. Speechless Hicks 283

XXIII. The Spoils of War 294

XXIV. The Pipe of Peace 303

ILLUSTRATIONS PAGE

Hicks drew his and slapped me over the head with it, even as my finger curled on the trigger Frontispiece 161

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

RAW GOLD.

CHAPTER I.

THE LONG ARM OF THE LAW.

How many of us, I wonder, can look back over the misty, half forgotten years and not see a few that stand out clear and golden, sharp cut against the sky line of memory? Years that we wish we could live again, so that we might revel in every full blooded hour. For we so seldom get the proper focus on things until we look at them through the clarifying telescope of Time; and then one realizes with a pang that he can't back track into the past and take his old place in the passing show.

Would we, if we could? It's an idle question, I know; wise men and musty philosophers say that regrets are foolish. But I speak for myself only when I say that I would gladly wheedle old, gray bearded Tempus into making the wheels click backward till I could see again the buffalo herds darkening the green of Northwestern prairies. They and the blanket Indian have passed, and the cowpuncher and Texas longhorns that replaced them will soon be little more than a vivid memory. Already the man with the plow is tearing up the brown sod that was a stamping ground for each in turn; the wheat fields have doomed the sage brush, and truck farms line the rivers where the wild cattle and the elk came down to drink... Continue reading book >>




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