Rider of the Mohave A Western Story

Excerpt: "It was three in the morning, but Geerusalem had not yet closed its eyes.

There was too much undug gold in the hills; it was too handy-too easy come, easy go; the days, too short; the pleasures, too wanton, too alluring.

The camp of Geerusalem promenaded, gambled, danced, fought, debauched the night away, waiting for to-morrow.

Far out on desolate Soapweed Plains, rose the intermittent, yelping wail-bark of a coyote.

The back door of a little store that fronted on the main street opened cautiously.

The interior of what was a kitchen was dark; the flower-garden yard into which it gave, was also dark.

The shadowy form of a man emerged and halted; he peered carefully about through the gloom.

A smaller figure followed, pausing on the threshold-a woman, her white apron and snowy hair quite visible.

The man turned, took her in his arms impulsively, and held her close to his breast."