Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
[Illustration: (page 123) OVERLAND LIMITED!]
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
THE ROAD xi I. THE PROSPECTOR 3 II. WATER 10 III. RAGGED ROMANCE 14 IV. "ANY ROAD, AT ANY TIME, FOR ANYWHERE" 25 V. "CAN HE RIDE?" 39 VI. ADVOCATE EXTRAORDINARY 48 VII. THE GIRL WHO GLANCED BACK 60 VIII. THE TEST 72 IX. A CELESTIAL ENTERPRISE 88 X. "PERFECTLY HARMLESS LITTLE OLE TENDERFOOT" 98 XI. DESERT LAW 110 XII. "FOOL'S LUCK" 125 XIII. THE RETURN 132 XIV. "CALL IT THE 'ROSE GIRL'" 141 XV. SILENT SAUNDERS 157 XVI. BLUNDER 163 XVII. GUESTS 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
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
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
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
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, Junípero 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.