Produced by Al Haines [Frontispiece: And as he passed, he looked in under the shadow of his hat, and touched a bag that was tied behind his saddle] RIMROCK JONES BY DANE COOLIDGE AUTHOR OF THE DESERT TRAIL ILLUSTRATIONS BY GEORGE W. GAGE NEW YORK GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY W. J. WATT & COMPANY CONTENTS CHAPTER I. THE MAN WITH A GUN II. WHEN RICHES FLY III. MISS FORTUNE IV. AS A LOAN V. THE PRODIGAL'S RETURN VI. RIMROCK PASSES VII. BUT COMES BACK FOR MORE VIII. A FLIER IN STOCKS IX. YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND X. THE FIGHT FOR THE OLD JUAN XI. A LITTLE TROUBLE XII. RIMROCK'S BIG DAY XIII. THE MORNING AFTER XIV. RIMROCK EXPLAINS XV. A GAME FOR BIG STAKES XVI. THE TIGER LADY XVII. AN AFTERTHOUGHT XVIII. NEW YORK XIX. WHERE ALL MEN MEET XX. A LETTER FROM THE SECRETARY XXI. THE SECOND ANNUAL MEETING XXII. A FOOL XXIII. SOLD OUT XXIV. THE NEW YEAR XXV. AN ACCOUNTING XXVI. A CHAPTER OF HATE XXVII. THE SHOW-DOWN XXVIII. A GIFT XXIX. RIMROCK DOES IT HIMSELF ILLUSTRATIONS And as he passed, he looked in under the shadow of his hat, and touched a bag that was tied behind his saddle . . . _Frontispiece_ Rimrock Jones left town with four burro-loads of powder, some provisions and a cargo of tools That was Rimrock's notice, but now it was void for the hour was long after twelve RIM ROCK JONES CHAPTER I. THE MAN WITH A GUN The peace of midday lay upon Gunsight, broken only by the distant _chang, chang_ of bells as a ten-mule ore-team came toiling in from the mines. In the cool depths of the umbrella tree in front of the Company's office a Mexican ground-dove crooned endlessly his ancient song of love, but Gunsight took no notice. Its thoughts were not of love but of money. The dusty team of mules passed down the street, dragging their double-trees reluctantly, and took their cursing meekly as they made the turn at the tracks. A switch engine bumped along the sidings, snaking ore-cars down to the bins and bunting them up to the chutes, but except for its bangings and clamor the town was still. An aged Mexican, armed with a long bunch of willow brush, swept idly at the sprinkled street and Old Hassayamp Hicks, the proprietor of the Alamo Saloon, leaned back in his rawhide chair and watched him with good-natured contempt.