A Man Four-Square

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A Man Four-Square

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Title: A Man Four-Square
Author: William MacLeod Raine
Release Date: November 26, 2004 [EBook #14171]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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A Man Four-Square
BY WILLIAM MAC LEOD RAINE

AUTHOR OF THE YUKON TRAIL, BUCKY O'CONNOR, STEVE
YEAGER, WYOMING, ETC.
1919

Contents
PROLOGUE
I. "CALL ME JIMMIE-GO-GET-'EM" II. SHOOT-A-BUCK CAÑON
III. RANSE ROUSH PAYS IV. PAULINE ROUBIDEAU SAYS
"THANK YOU" V. NO FOUR-FLUSHER VI. BILLIE ASKS A
QUESTION VII. ON THE TRAIL VIII. THE FIGHT IX. BILLIE
STANDS PAT X. BUD PROCTOR LENDS A HAND XI. THE
FUGITIVES XII. THE GOOD SAMARITAN XIII. A FRIENDLY
ENEMY XIV. THE GUN-BARREL ROAD XV. LEE PLAYS A
LEADING RÔLE XVI. THREE MODERN MUSKETEERS XVII.
"PEG-LEG" WARREN XVIII. A STAMPEDE XIX. A TWO-GUN
MAN XX. EXIT MYSTERIOUS PETE XXI. JIM RECEIVES AND
DECLINES AN OFFER XXII. THE RUSTLERS' CAMP XXIII.
MURDER FROM THE CHAPARRAL XXIV. JIMMIE-GO-GET-'EM
LEAVES A NOTE XXV. THE MAL-PAIS XXVI. A DUST-STORM
XXVII. "A LUCKY GUY" XXVIII. SHERIFF PRINCE FUNCTIONS
XXIX. "THEY CAN'T HANG ME IF I AIN'T THERE" XXX. POLLY
HAS A PLAN XXXI. GOODHEART MAKES A PROMISE AND
BREAKS IT XXXII. JIM TAKES A PRISONER XXXIII. THE
ROUND-UP XXXIV. PRIMROSE PATHS

A Man Four-Square

Prologue
A girl sat on the mossy river-bank in the dappled, golden sunlight.
Frowning eyes fixed on a sweeping eddy, she watched without seeing

the racing current. Her slim, supple body, crouched and tense, was
motionless, but her soul seethed tumultuously. In the bosom of her
coarse linsey gown lay hidden a note. Through it destiny called her to
the tragic hour of decision.
The foliage of the young pawpaws stirred behind her. Furtively a pair
of black eyes peered forth and searched the opposite bank of the stream,
the thicket of rhododendrons above, the blooming laurels below. Very
stealthily a handsome head pushed out through the leaves.
"'Lindy," a voice whispered.
The girl gave a start, slowly turned her head. She looked at the owner
of the voice from steady, deep-lidded eyes. The pulse in her brown
throat began to beat. One might have guessed her with entire justice a
sullen lass, untutored of life, passionate, and high-spirited, resentful of
all restraint. Hers was such beauty as lies in rich blood beneath dark
coloring, in dusky hair and eyes, in the soft, warm contours of youth.
Already she was slenderly full, an elemental daughter of Eve, primitive
as one of her fur-clad ancestors. No forest fawn could have been more
sensuous or innocent than she.
Again the man's glance swept the landscape cautiously before he
moved out from cover. In the country of the Clantons there was always
an open season on any one of his name.
"What are you doin' here, Dave Roush?" the girl demanded. "Are you
crazy?"
"I'm here because you are, 'Lindy Clanton," he answered promptly.
"That's a right good reason, ain't it?"
The pink splashed into her cheeks like spilled wine.
"You'd better go. If dad saw you--"
He laughed hardily. "There'd be one less Roush--or one less Clanton,"
he finished for her.

Dave Roush was a large, well-shouldered man, impressive in spite of
his homespun. If he carried himself with a swagger there was no lack of
boldness in him to back it. His long hair was straight and black and
coarse, a derivative from the Indian strain in his blood.
"Git my note?" he asked.
She nodded sullenly.
'Lindy had met Dave Roush at a dance up on Lonesome where she had
no business to be. At the time she had been visiting a distant cousin in a
cove adjacent to that creek. Some craving for adventure, some instinct
of defiance, had taken her to the frolic where she knew the Roush clan
would be in force. From the first sight of her Dave had wooed her with
a careless bravado that piqued her pride and intrigued her interest. The
girl's imagination translated in terms of romance his insolence and
audacity. Into her starved existence he brought color and emotion.
Did she love him? 'Lindy was not sure. He moved her at times to
furious anger, and again to inarticulate longings she did not understand.
For though she was heritor of a life full-blooded and undisciplined,
every fiber