177
XVIII. A RED EPISODE 185
XIX. "TO CUT MY TRAIL LIKE THAT" 202
XX. THE LED HORSE 211
XXI. BORROWED PLUMES 223
XXII. THE YUMA COLT 231
XXIII. SILENT SAUNDERS SPEAKS 247
XXIV. "LIKE SUNSHINE" 254
XXV. IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 262
XXVI. SPECIAL 273
XXVII. THE RIDERS 278
XXVIII. GOPHERTOWN 288
XXIX. TOLL 299
XXX. TWO ROSES 305
XXXI. NIGHT 320
XXXII. MORNING 332
XXXIII. A SPEECH 345

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ILLUSTRATIONS

OVERLAND LIMITED! (page 123) Frontispiece
THE GIRL'S LEVEL GRAY EYES STUDIED THE TRAMP'S FACE 16
"IT'S A CLEAN-UP" 296
"CAN'T I HAVE ANOTHER ONE, ROSE GIRL?" 340

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The Road

Through the San Fernando Valley, toward the hills of Calabasas runs that
old road, El Camino Real of the early Mission days.

And now replicas of old Mission bells, each suspended in solitary
dignity from a rusted iron rod, mark intervals along the dusty way, once
a narrow trail worn by the patient feet of that gentle and great padre,
Junipero Serra,--a trail from the San Gabriel Valley to the shores of
Monterey. A narrow trail then, but, even then, to him it was broad in
its potential significance of the dawn of Grace upon the mountain shores
of Heaven's lost garden, California.

Not far from one iron-posted bell in the valley, El Camino Real falters,
to find, eventually, a lazy way round the low foothills, as though
reluctant to lift its winding length over the sharp pitch of the Canajo
Pass, beyond.

Near this lone bell another road, an offspring of old El Camino Real,
runs quickly from its gray and patient