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Page 55

CHAPTER 4 - RANGER RIDING

BILL RANKIN rode the mountain trail slowly, allowing his calico pony to pick its own way and go its own gait. Bill was a mighty long way from home-or rather from his headquarters at Phoenix, the capital of Arizona, for properly speaking he hadn't got a home but that wasn't worrying him. A few hundred miles here and there never worried Bill of Deakin's rangers. His life was made up of riding backwards and forwards across the mighty wastes and mountains of Arizona, in search of trouble and mostly finding it. Generally speaking, too, he and his buddies settled that trouble, to their satisfaction and Deakin's, if not to that of the bad men who slowly but surely were being cleaned up.
Right now, six feet of tough manhood, Bill Rankin was riding at his leisure. His mind, which when necessary could move so fast, was at rest. The sun was sinking, throwing great shafts of light across the mountains, flinging into relief the canyons and the

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