The Two-Gun Man

The Two-Gun Man, by Charles Alden Seltzer

The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Two-Gun Man, by Charles Alden Seltzer 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.org
Title: The Two-Gun Man
Author: Charles Alden Seltzer
Release Date: August 9, 2006 [EBook #19012]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TWO-GUN MAN ***

Produced by Al Haines

THE TWO-GUN MAN
BY CHARLES ALDEN SELTZER

Author of "The Range Riders," "The Coming of the Law," etc.

A. L. BURT COMPANY
PUBLISHERS -------- NEW YORK

COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY
OUTING PUBLISHING COMPANY
ENTERED AT STATIONERS' HALL, LONDON, ENGLAND
All rights reserved

CONTENTS

CHAPTER
I.
THE STRANGER AT DRY BOTTOM II. THE STRANGER SHOOTS III. THE CABIN IN THE FLAT IV. A "DIFFERENT GIRL" V. THE MAN OF DRY BOTTOM VI. AT THE TWO DIAMOND VII. THE MEASURE OF A MAN VIII. THE FINDING OF THE ORPHAN IX. WOULD YOU BE A "CHARACTER"? X. DISAPPEARANCE OF THE ORPHAN XI. A TOUCH OF LOCAL COLOR XII. THE STORY BEGINS XIII. "DO YOU SMOKE?" XIV. ON THE EDGE OF THE PLATEAU XV. A FREE HAND XVI. LEVIATT TAKES A STEP XVII. A BREAK IN THE STORY XVIII. THE DIM TRAIL XIX. THE SHOT IN THE DARK XX. LOVE AND A RIFLE XXI. THE PROMISE XXII. KEEPING A PROMISE XXIII. AT THE EDGE OF THE COTTONWOOD XXIV. THE END OF THE STORY

THE TWO-GUN MAN

CHAPTER I
THE STRANGER AT DRY BOTTOM
From the crest of Three Mile Slope the man on the pony could see the town of Dry Bottom straggling across the gray floor of the flat, its low, squat buildings looking like so many old boxes blown there by an idle wind, or unceremoniously dumped there by a careless fate and left, regardless, to carry out the scheme of desolation.
Apparently the rider was in no hurry, for, as the pony topped the rise and the town burst suddenly into view, the little animal pricked up its ears and quickened its pace, only to feel the reins suddenly tighten and to hear the rider's voice gruffly discouraging haste. Therefore, the pony pranced gingerly, alert, champing the bit impatiently, picking its way over the lumpy hills of stone and cactus, but holding closely to the trail.
The man lounged in the saddle, his strong, well-knit body swaying gracefully, his eyes, shaded by the brim of his hat, narrowed with slight mockery and interest as he gazed steadily at the town that lay before him.
"I reckon that must be Dry Bottom," he said finally, mentally taking in its dimensions. "If that's so, I've only got twenty miles to go."
Half way down the slope, and still a mile and a half from the town, the rider drew the pony to a halt. He dropped the reins over the high pommel of the saddle, drew out his two guns, one after the other, rolled the cylinders, and returned the guns to their holsters. He had heard something of Dry Bottom's reputation and in examining his pistols he was merely preparing himself for an emergency. For a moment after he had replaced the weapons he sat quietly in the saddle. Then he shook out the reins, spoke to the pony, and the little animal set forward at a slow lope.
An ironic traveler, passing through Dry Bottom in its younger days, before civic spirit had definitely centered its efforts upon things nomenclatural, had hinted that the town should be known as "dry" because of the fact that while it boasted seven buildings, four were saloons; and that "bottom" might well be used as a suffix, because, in the nature of things, a town of seven buildings, four of which were saloons, might reasonably expect to descend to the very depths of moral iniquity.
The ironic traveler had spoken with prophetic wisdom. Dry Bottom was trying as best it knew how to wallow in the depths of sin. Unlovely, soiled, desolate of verdure, dumped down upon a flat of sand in a treeless waste, amid cactus, crabbed yucca, scorpions, horned toads, and rattlesnakes. Dry Bottom had forgotten its morals, subverted its principles, and neglected its God.
As the rider approached to within a few hundred yards of the edge of town he became aware of a sudden commotion. He reined in his pony, allowing it to advance at a walk, while with alert eyes he endeavored to search out the cause of the excitement. He did not have long to watch for the explanation.
A man had stepped out of the door of one of the saloons, slowly walking twenty feet away from it toward the center of the street. Immediately other men had followed. But these came only to a point just outside the door. For some reason