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Rimrock Trail   By: (1872-1941)

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First Page:

Rimrock Trail

[Illustration]

[Illustration: The girl drooped, tired from the long climb]

RIMROCK TRAIL

By J. ALLAN DUNN

Author of "A Man to His Mate," etc.

[Illustration]

A. L. BURT COMPANY Publishers New York

Published by arrangement with The Bobbs Merrill Company Printed in U. S. A.

COPYRIGHT 1921 DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY

COPYRIGHT 1922 J. ALLAN DUNN

Printed in the United States of America

ARTHUR SULLIVANT HOFFMAN

To his loyal friendship, his sincerity and the caustic but kindly criticism which has made my stuff printable.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I GRIT 1

II CASEY 11

III MOLLY 32

IV SANDY CALLS THE TURN 46

V IN THE BED OF THE CREEK 67

VI PASO CABRAS 81

VII BOLSA GAP 97

VIII THE PASS OF THE GOATS 111

IX CAROCA 119

X SANDY RETURNS 129

XI PAY DIRT 135

XII WHITE GOLD 159

XIII A ROPE BREAKS 187

XIV A FREE FOR ALL 202

XV CASEY TOWN 232

XVI EAST AND WEST 266

XVII WESTLAKE BRINGS NEWS 291

XVIII DEHORNED 310

XIX THE HIDEOUT 345

XX MOLLY MINE 377

XXI THE END OF THE ROPE 389

XXII THE VERY END 396

Rimrock Trail

[Illustration]

Rimrock Trail

CHAPTER I

GRIT

"Mormon" Peters carefully shifted his weighty bulk in the chair that he dared not tilt, gazing dreamily at the saw toothed mountains shimmering in the distance, sniffing luxuriously the scent of sage.

"They oughter spell Arizona with three 'C's,'" he said.

"Why?" asked Sandy Bourke, wiping the superfluous oil from the revolver he was meticulously cleaning.

"'Count of Climate, Cactus, Cattle an' Coyotes."

"Makin' four, 'stead of three," said the managing partner of the Three Star Ranch.

Came a grunt from "Soda Water" Sam as he put down his harmonica on which he had been playing The Cowboy's Lament , with variations.

"Huh! You got no more eddication than a horn toad, an' less common sense. You don't spell Arizony with a 'C.' You can't. 'Cordin' to yore argymint you should spell Africa with a 'Z' 'cause they raise zebras there, 'stead of mustangs. Might make it two 'R's,' 'count of rim rock an' an' revolvers."

Mormon snorted.

"That's a hell of a name for a man born in Maricopa County to call a gun. Revolver! You 'mind me of the Boston perfesser who come to Arizona tryin' to prove the Cliff Dwellers was one of the Lost Tribes of Israel. He blows in with an introduction to the Double U, where I was workin'. Colonel Pawlin's wife has a cold snack ready, it bein' middlin' warm. The perfesser makes a pretty speech, after he'd eaten two men's share of victuals tryin', I reckon, to put some flesh on to his bones. An' he calls the lunch a col lay shun ! Later, he asks the waitress down to the Rodeo Eatin' House, while he's waitin' for his train, for a serve yet. A serve yet ! That's what he calls a napkin. You must have been eddicated in Boston, Sam, though it's the first time I ever suspected you of book learnin'."

It was Sunday afternoon on the Three Star rancheria. The riders, all the hands with the exception of Pedro, the Mexican cocinero, indifferent to most things, including his cooking; and Joe, his half breed helper, had departed, clad in their best shirts, vests, trousers, Stetsons and bandannas of silk, some seeking a poker game on a neighboring rancho, some bent on courting... Continue reading book >>




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