dry, cool air; and
particularly I want to throw a little light upon the life and nature of
that strange character and remarkable man, Buffalo Jones.

Happily in remembrance a writer can live over his experiences, and see
once more the moonblanched silver mountain peaks against the dark blue
sky; hear the lonely sough of the night wind through the pines; feel
the dance of wild expectation in the quivering pulse; the stir, the
thrill, the joy of hard action in perilous moments; the mystery of
man's yearning for the unattainable.

As a boy I read of Boone with a throbbing heart, and the silent
moccasined, vengeful Wetzel I loved.

I pored over the deeds of later men--Custer and Carson, those heroes of
the plains. And as a man I came to see the wonder, the tragedy of their
lives, and to write about them. It has been my destiny--what a happy
fulfillment of my dreams of border spirit!--to live for a while in the
fast-fading wild environment which produced these great men with the
last of the great plainsmen.

ZANE GREY.

CONTENTS

1. THE ARIZONA DESERT
2. THE RANGE
3. THE LAST HERD
4. THE TRAIL
5. OAK SPRING
6. THE WHITE MUSTANG
7. SNAKE GULCH
8. NAZA! NAZA! NAZA!
9. THE LAND OF THE MUSK-OX
10. SUCCESS AND FAILURE
11. ON TO THE SIWASH
12. OLD TOM
13. SINGING CLIFFS
14. ALL HEROES BUT ONE
15. JONES ON COUGARS
16. KITTY
17. CONCLUSION

CHAPTER 1.

THE ARIZONA DESERT

One afternoon, far out on the sun-baked waste of sage, we made camp
near a clump of withered pinyon trees. The cold desert wind came down
upon us with the sudden darkness. Even the Mormons, who were finding
the trail for us across the drifting sands, forgot to sing and pray at
sundown. We huddled round the campfire, a tired and silent little
group. When out of the lonely, melancholy night some wandering Navajos
stole like shadows to our fire, we hailed their advent with delight.
They were good-natured Indians, willing to barter a blanket or
bracelet; and one of them, a tall, gaunt fellow, with the bearing of a
chief, could speak a little English.

"How," said he, in a deep chest voice.

"Hello, Noddlecoddy," greeted Jim Emmett, the Mormon guide.

"Ugh!" answered the Indian.

"Big paleface--Buffalo Jones---big chief--buffalo man," introduced
Emmett, indicating Jones.

"How." The Navajo spoke with dignity, and extended a friendly hand.

"Jones big white chief--rope buffalo--tie up t