CONTENTS BOOK I THE PREPARATION CHAP. I THED REAME A R ND THE DREAM I1 WINGAT J E O URNEYS ON . 111 CLAYTONS V ISITORS . IV SIBYL . . . . . V THEI NVASI O O F N PA RADISE V1 WHEN L OVE W AS YOUNG . V11 WILLIAM S ANDERS . . V111 AND MARY WENT TO DENVER IX A REVELATIO O N F CHARACTER X PIPING O S F PAN . . . XI THE T RAGE O D F Y TH E RANGE XTI WITH SIBYL AN D MARY . XI11 WHEN A MBITION C AME . XIV IN THE STORM . . . XV A FLASH OF LIGHTNING . XVI BEN DAVISON T S R IUMPH . PAGE BOOK I1 THE BATTLE CHAP. PAGE I COWARDIC A E N D HEROISM . . . . I32 11 TIIE HARVE O S F T T HE FIRE . . . . . 141 I11 LEES OF THE WINE . . . . . I54 vi CONTENTS CHAP. PAGE IV IN THE WHIRLPOOL - . . . 162 V HARKNES AN S D THE SEER . . . I75 V1 THE MOTH AND THE FLAME . . . 1 V11 THE COMPACT . . . 195 V111 THE T HRAL O L F THE PAST . . 202 IX SANDER T S E LLSH IS STORY . . 208 X IN THE CRUCIBLE . . . 220 XI FATHE AN R D SON . . . 232 XI1 CHANGIN E G V ENTS . . . . . 241 XI11 IN PARADIVSAEL LEY . . . . . 250 XIV THE D OWNWAR W D A Y . . 255 XV MARYSD ESPAIR . . . . . 258 XVI THEW AGES OF SIN . . . 267 XVII SHADOW BE S F ORE . . 274 XVIII PHILOSOP G H O Y N E M AD . . 280 XIX SIBYL AND CLAYTON . . . . 285 XX THE RIDE WITH DEATH . . 293 XXI RECONCILIATI . O N . . 304 XXII THE D REAM T S H AT CAME T RUE . 309 J LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS With a boldness that gripped his throat he slipped his hand along the back of the arbor seat . . . . FrontisPiece The woman sitting there on her chafing horse stared back at him . . . . Page 31 g Sanders twisted round in his chair and began to draw from his pocket a grimy memorandum book 4 m . m . m 212 Behind them broke a bellowing tumult, as the foremost cattle began to plunge downward intothe cafion . a swinging out of the saddle in front of the little school house which was serving as a church, Curtis Clayton, physician and philosopher, looked over the valley which held the story of a romantic hope and where he was to bury his own shattered dream. The rain of the morning had cleared away the bluish ground haze, the very air had been washed clean, and the land lay revealed in long levels and undulating ridges. Behind towered the mountain, washed clean, too, its flat top etched against the sky and every crag and peak standing out sharp and hard as a cameo. Claytons broncho pawed restlessly on the edge of a grass-grown cellar. All about the tiny cluster of unoccupied houses were other grass-grown cellars, and the foundation lines of vanished buildings, marking the site of the abandoned town. Beside the school house, from which came now the sound of singing, horses were tied to a long hitching rack. A Justin Wingate, Ranchman few farm wagons stood near, the unaccustomed mud drying on their wheels. Clayton dismounted and began to tie his horse. His left arm, stiff and bent at the elbow, swung awkwardly and gave such scant aid that he tightened the knot of the hitching strap by pulling it with his teeth. He was dressed smartly, in dust-proof gray, and wore polished riding boots. His unlined face showed depression and weariness. In spite of this it was a handsome face, lighted by clear dark eyes. The brow, massive and prominent, was the brow of a thinker. Over it, beneath the riding cap, was a tangle of dark hair, now damp and heavy. When he spoke to his horse his tones were suggestive of innate kindness...