Chapter I

The Plainsman



The man was riding just below the summit of the ridge, occasionally
uplifting his head so as to gaze across the crest, shading his eyes with
one hand to thus better concentrate his vision. Both horse and rider
plainly exhibited signs of weariness, but every movement of the latter
showed ceaseless vigilance, his glance roaming the barren ridges, a brown
Winchester lying cocked across the saddle pommel, his left hand taut on
the rein. Yet the horse he bestrode scarcely required restraint, advancing
slowly, with head hanging low, and only occasionally breaking into a brief
trot under the impetus of the spur.

The rider was a man approaching thirty, somewhat slender and long of limb,
but possessing broad, squared shoulders above a deep chest, sitting the
saddle easily in plainsman fashion, yet with an erectness of carriage
which suggested military training. The face under the wide brim of the
weather-worn slouch hat was clean-shaven, browned by sun and wind, and
strongly marked, the chin slightly prominent, the mouth firm, the gray
eyes full of character and daring. His dress was that of rough service,
plain leather "chaps," showing marks of hard usage, a gray woolen shirt
turned low at the neck, with a kerchief knotted loosely about the sinewy
bronzed throat. At one hip dangled the holster of a "forty-five," on the
other hung a canvas-covered canteen. His was figure and face to be noted
anywhere, a man from whom you would expect both thought and action, and
one who seemed to exactly fit into his wild environment.