Gunsight Pass

Gunsight Pass

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Gunsight Pass, by William MacLeod Raine This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
Title: Gunsight Pass How Oil Came to the Cattle Country and Brought a New West
Author: William MacLeod Raine
Release Date: January 3, 2005 [EBook #14574]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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GUNSIGHT PASS
HOW OIL CAME TO THE CATTLE COUNTRY AND BROUGHT A NEW WEST
BY WILLIAM MACLEOD RAINE
AUTHOR OF THE BIG-TOWN ROUND-UP, A MAN FOUR SQUARE, THE YUKON TRAIL, ETC.
1921

TO JAMES H. LANGLEY
WHO LIVED MANY OF THESE PAGES IN THE DAYS OF HIS HOT-BLOODED YOUTH

CONTENTS
I. "CROOKED AS A DOG'S HIND LAIG"
II. THE RACE
III. DAVE RIDES ON HIS SPURS
IV. THE PAINT HOSS DISAPPEARS
V. SUPPER AT DELMONICO'S INTERRUPTED
VI. BY WAY OF A WINDOW
VII. BOB HART TAKES A HAND
VIII. THE D BAR LAZY R BOYS MEET AN ANGEL
IX. GUNSIGHT PASS
X. THE CATTLE TRAIN
XI. THE NIGHT CLERK GETS BUSY PRONTO
XII. THE LAW PUZZLES DAVE
XIII. FOR MURDER
XIV. TEN YEARS
XV. IN DENVER
XVI. DAVE MEETS TWO FRIENDS AND A FOE
XVII. OIL
XVIII. DOBLE PAYS A VISIT
XIX. AN INVOLUNTARY BATH
XX. THE LITTLE MOTHER FREES HER MIND
XXI. THE HOLD-UP
XXII. NUMBER THREE COMES IN
XXIII. THE GUSHER
XXIV. SHORTY
XXV. MILLER TALKS
XXVI. DAVE ACCEPTS AN INVITATION
XXVII. AT THE JACKPOT
XXVIII. DAVE MEETS A FINANCIER
XXIX. THREE IN CONSULTATION
XXX. ON THE FLYER
XXXI. TWO ON THE HILLTOPS
XXXII. DAVE BECOMES AN OFFICE MAN
XXXIII. ON THE DODGE
XXXIV. A PLEASANT EVENING
XXXV. FIRE IN THE CHAPARRAL
XXXVI. FIGHTING FIRE
XXXVII. SHORTY ASK A QUESTION
XXXVIII. DUG DOBLE RIDES INTO THE HILLS
XXXIX. THE TUNNEL
XL. A MESSAGE
XLI. HANK BRINGS BAD NEWS
XLII. SHORTY IS AWAKENED
XLIII. JUAN OTERO IS CONSCRIPTED
XLIV. THE BULLDOG BARKS
XLV. JOYCE MAKES PIES

GUNSIGHT PASS

CHAPTER I
"CROOKED AS A DOG'S HIND LAIG"
It was a land of splintered peaks, of deep, dry gorges, of barren mesas burnt by the suns of a million torrid summers. The normal condition of it was warfare. Life here had to protect itself with a tough, callous rind, to attack with a swift, deadly sting. Only the fit survived.
But moonlight had magically touched the hot, wrinkled earth with a fairy godmother's wand. It was bathed in a weird, mysterious beauty. Into the crotches of the hills lakes of wondrous color had been poured at sunset. The crests had flamed with crowns of glory, the ca?ons become deep pools of blue and purple shadow. Blurred by kindly darkness, the gaunt ridges had softened to pastels of violet and bony mountains to splendid sentinels keeping watch over a gulf of starlit space.
Around the camp-fire the drivers of the trail herd squatted on their heels or lay sprawled at indolent ease. The glow of the leaping flames from the twisted mesquite lit their lean faces, tanned to bronzed health by the beat of an untempered sun and the sweep of parched winds. Most of them were still young, scarcely out of their boyhood; a few had reached maturity. But all were products of the desert. The high-heeled boots, the leather chaps, the kerchiefs knotted round the neck, were worn at its insistence. Upon every line of their features, every shade of their thought, it had stamped its brand indelibly.
The talk was frank and elemental. It had the crisp crackle that goes with free, unfettered youth. In a parlor some of it would have been offensive, but under the stars of the open desert it was as natural as the life itself. They spoke of the spring rains, of the Crawford-Steelman feud, of how they meant to turn Malapi upside down in their frolic when they reached town. They "rode" each other with jokes that were familiar old friends. Their horse play was rough but good-natured.
Out of the soft shadows of the summer night a boy moved from the remuda toward the camp-fire. He was a lean, sandy-haired young fellow, his figure still lank and unfilled. In another year his shoulders would be broader, his frame would take on twenty pounds. As he sat down on the wagon tongue at the edge of the firelit circle the stringiness of his appearance became more noticeable.
A young man waved a hand toward him by way of introduction. "Gents of the D Bar Lazy R outfit, we now have with us roostin' on the wagon tongue Mr. David Sanders, formerly of Arizona, just returned from makin' love to his paint hoss. Mr. Sanders will make oration on the why, wherefore, and how-come-it of Chiquito's superiority to all other equines whatever."
The youth on the wagon tongue smiled. His blue eyes were gentle and friendly. From his pocket he had taken a knife and was sharpening it on one of his