E-text prepared by Al Haines Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustrations. See 16597-h.htm or 16597-h.zip: (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/5/9/16597/16597-h/16597-h.htm) or (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/5/9/16597/16597-h.zip) SQUARE DEAL SANDERSON by CHARLES ALDEN SELTZER Author of The Boss of the Lazy Y, "Beau" Rand, "Drag" Harlan, The Ranchman, etc. Frontispiece by J. Allen St. John Grosset & Dunlap Publishers --- New York Published, March, 1922 [Frontispiece: Out of the valley went Streak, running with long, smooth leaps.] CONTENTS CHAPTER I The North Trail II A Man's Curiosity III "Square" Deal Sanderson IV In Which a Man Is Sympathetic V Water and Kisses VI Sanderson Lies VII Kisses--A Man Refuses Them VIII The Plotters IX The Little Man Talks X Plain Talk XI The Ultimatum XII Dale Moves XIII A Plot that Worked XIV The Voice of the Coyote XV Dale Pays a Visit XVI The Hand of the Enemy XVII The Trail Herd XVIII Checked by the System XIX A Question of Brands XX Devil's Hole XXI A Man Borrows Money XXII A Man from the Abyss XXIII The Gunman XXIV Concerning a Woman XXV A Man Is Aroused XXVI A Man Is Hanged XXVII The Ambush XXVIII Nyland Meets a Killer XXIX Nyland's Vengeance XXX The Law Takes a Hand XXXI The Fugitive XXXII Winning a Fight XXXIII A Man Leaves Okar XXXIV A Man Gets a Square Deal XXXV A Deal in Love Square Deal Sanderson CHAPTER I THE NORTH RAID An hour before, Deal Sanderson had opened his eyes. He had been comfortably wrapped in his blanket; his head had been resting on a saddle seat. His sleep over, he had discovered that the saddle seat felt hard to his cheek. In changing his position he had awakened. His face toward the east, he had seen a gray streak widening on the horizon--a herald of the dawn. Sanderson found what seemed to be a softer spot on the saddle, snuggled himself in the blanket, and went to sleep again. Of course he had not neglected to take one sweeping glance around the camp while awake, and that one glance had convinced him that the camp was in order. The fire had long since gone out--there was a heap of white ashes to mark the spot where it had been. His big brown horse--Streak--unencumbered by rope or leather, was industriously cropping the dew-laden blades of some bunch-grass within a dozen yards of him; and the mighty desolation of the place was as complete as it had seemed when he had pitched his camp the night before. Sanderson reveled in the luxury of complete idleness. He grinned at the widening streak of dawn as he closed his eyes. There would be no vitriolic-voiced cook to bawl commands at him _this_ morning. And no sour-faced range boss to issue curt orders.