Front matter (continued 2)

"But they might let 'em know' there was another way to get into the place," interposed Pedro.

"Little good it would do 'em," returned his chief. "They could search a month of Sundays and never find it."

"Still, they might get word to the Fort and then old 'turkey gobler' would order the men out again, which would interfere with our going where we pleased," objected Rose.

"Reckon you're right, girl. It will be a big sight easier for me to carry out my plans if I don't have a bunch of manhunters to dodge for a while.

"Say, you fellows," he exclaimed, turning toward his captives, "if you make any attempt to communicate with the guard up there, I'll chuck you down that crack in the rock—and no one ever comes back from there. So be good and you'll be a big lot happier. Perhaps, if you're real good, after I've carried out my pledge, I'll let you loose. You're a mighty entertaining couple of chaps, but I can't say I should care to have to tote you about with me all the rest of my days, especially as the way, you're togged up is something likely to attract attention."

His words disclosing that the outlaw was in rare good humor, the scouts wisely decided not to bring down his wrath upon them, and accordingly when they were placed at the table and the gags and bandages were removed, they made no outcry, eating gratefully the food which the girl and even Rogers fed them.

But the outlaw's leniency would go no further, as Rose found when she pleaded with him to remove the thongs from their arms and ankles and allow them to stretch their aching limbs.

Indeed, the request seemed to revive his earlier suspicion of the girl.

"Say, what's the matter with you, anyhow, girl?" he demanded. "Here, just because I fed the poor devils, you seem to think I should turn 'em loose. Pretty soon, I suppose you'll be asking me to go to that guard pacing back and forth and give myself up." Then an idea seemed to strike him, and, with a disgusting leer, he said: "I believe this doll-faced kid here has hypnotized you."

"Well, I know he isn't the kind of man that would make you sleep all trussed up the way you've got him," flashed Rose, blushing at the outlaw's words.

"You're dead right, he ain't," retorted Rogers, "because he ain't the sort of chap who would ever catch a man to bind him."

And laughing at his words, evidently considering them mighty clever, the bandit got up from the table, ordered Pedro to place the prisoners on some straw, and threw himself down upon a pile of blankets, keeping his eyes upon Rose, however, till her breathing indicated that she was asleep.

CHAPTER XII.

A CLOSE CALL.

Despite his bravado evinced before his prisoners and the girl, Rogers did not feel as secure in the "Breathing Cave," as his words made him appear. Consequently, though he was wearied by his unusual exertions after his long confinement behind the bars, he was awake early the next morning.

Arousing Pedro, he bade him keep a close watch on the girl and the scouts, and not to let them converse unless he was within hearing distance.

"I'll watch 'em, never fear," promised the bandit.

"See that you do. Your life is responsible for their safety," returned his master. And with these words, the outlaw walked to the end of the cave opposite the crevice by which he had entered, placed his shoulder against what seemed part of the solid wall of rock and, after several attempts, pushed out a block about three feet square.

Cautiously sticking his head through the trap door, Rogers listened intently for several minutes and then, apparently satisfied it would be safe for him to go forth, squeezed through the hole, closing it behind him.

But he was by no means out of danger.

The spot where the second entrance to the Cave was located was less than a hundred yards from where Captain Smythe and his troopers had established their siege camp, and was in full view from the valley below where the rest of the troopers had bivouaced.

Yet, unless they had chanced to see him suddenly appear from the rock, he ran little risk of detection from the latter, for he quickly gained the shelter of a crag, where he waited to learn if an alarm was raised.

When some five minutes had passed and the silence which enveloped the mountains and valleys was unbroken, he began his descent.

With all the cunning of which he was master, the daredevil outlaw crept down the hillside, crossed the level land and then went up the other mountain in order that he might learn whether or not any troops had been stationed to watch the trail to the Old Stockade.

As he found the way entirely open, he was sorely tempted to pay a hurried visit to the place which had been his headquarters and the scene of many a wild orgy before he had been captured, but he told himself there would be plenty of time to live over the old days when he had fulfilled his pledge and accordingly he retraced his steps.

But the outlaw found that it would not prove so easy a matter to regain the Cave as it was to leave it.

When he reached a spot on his return whence he could survey the valley where the troopers had camped, instead of finding it deserted, as he had expected, he found it alive with cavalrymen.

Wondering as to the cause, yet aware that it effected him, Rogers sought out a rock from which he could watch the manhunters.

Had he returned an hour before, however, he would have found his progress unimpeded.

After breakfast, Colonel Edwards had given the command to break camp and return to the Fort, ordering the men to keep a sharp lookout for the bodies of the three Mounted Scouts, who had been captured by the outlaw.

When the search failed to reveal them, as the reader knows, both officers and men came to the conclusion that Rogers had kept them with him, and many were the speculations as to his reason for so doing.

About an hour had they been on the march, when a solitary rider was sighted. More out of curiosity than anything else, Colonel Edwards trained his field glasses upon him. But as he did so, his manner changed.

"By all the gods of war, that's our man Shaw!" he gasped, "and he's bound, gagged and blindfolded. That's the work of that devil, Rogers! Lieutenant Hastings, take three men and see what's the trouble."

Like wildfire, the identity of the horseman had spread among the cavalrymen and eagerly they watched as the detail dashed on its mission.

The strain of the terrible night when he knew not what moment might be his last had proved too much for the Scout, however, and when his comrades gained his side, he was jabbering to himself, a raving maniac.

Calling down all the curses of which they could think upon the head of the desperado for his treatment of their fellow, the officer and his men quickly, but tenderly, removed the gag, bandage and rawhide, then lifted the scout from his horse and laid him on the plain, forcing some brandy between his swollen lips, all the while plying him with questions. But it was no use. Shaw could only jabber.

Realizing from the troopers' actions that something serious was amiss, Colonel Edwards and his aides rode up just as one of the men picked up the message Red Rogers had written, which had passed unnoticed in the endeavor to restore the Mounted Scout to his normal self.

"A communication for you, sir," said Hastings, handing the rough scrawl to his superior.

Adjusting his glasses, the colonel began to read it, then burst into a towering rage.

"Listen to this! Listen to this!" he roared, addressing all within earshot. "'Colonel Turkey Gobler. I cum bak to keep my promise to a ded man. Yu no whu i mene, barney Landon, the man you cudnt get the reward for becoze i hid his body. im going to fix evry man who helped do barney. I am kepeing 2 of yure men. if yu get after me, ill send em bak to yu in peces. if yu wil leve a safe conduk for rosie landon to ole man quints friday i wont turn no tricks on yure post. Red Rogers.'"

As he proceeded, the colonel grew madder and madder, fairly screaming as he finished.

"Think of it! That to me!" he chortled. "We'll go back and smoke that devil out, if it takes every man on the post. Hastings, give the orders. Send two men to the Fort with Shaw."

Not a man was there who did not consider Red's message a personal insult, regardless of poor Shaw's treatment, and never were commands more willingly obeyed than those to ride back to the Breathing Cave and capture the daredevil bandit.

Pitching camp in the valley, the troopers quickly swarmed up the hillside to the Cave, and it was almost at the moment of their arrival that Rogers had caught sight of them.

As the officers reached the spot where the outlaw was supposed to lie hidden, they immediately held a council of war, discussing the quickest means of bringing the desperado to book. Many were the schemes suggested, but it was finally decided to begin by trying literally to smoke him out.

The men were ordered to collect piles of dry branches which were jammed as tightly as possible into the crevice in the rock and then set afire.

At the sight of the flames and the realization of the troopers' purpose, the outlaw leaped to his feet.

"Daylight or no daylight, I've got to save Rosie and Pedro!" he muttered, and, never thinking of the danger to himself his act entailed, he began to work his way to the Cave.

With marvellous skill, he descended the hill, crossed the valley in which was located the camp, and crept up the other side. But every trick of which he was master he was obliged to use. Indeed, no less than three times, troopers passed within pistol shot of him, yet never even a suspicion did they have of his presence.

But when he seemed to have success within his reach, he was balked. Less than thirty yards was he from the secret entrance to the Cave when some of the men began to gather brush just above it. And, cursing frightfully, Rogers was forced to seek cover.

Fortunately for the girl and men within the Cave, the mysterious breathing of the crevice kept the greatest part of the smoke from entering the excavation in which they cowered.

Surprised to awake and find the outlaw gone, Rose grew more and more uneasy as time went by without his return, and when the men began to jam the brush into the crevice, she was beside herself with fear.

"There's no use of worrying," declared Pedro. "If they'd caught him, they wouldn't be trying to suffocate him." And, so self-evident was this argument that the girl took courage.

It was not until dusk, however, that Rogers finally found the opportunity to re-enter his hiding place. And his arrival was just in time, for his comrades were all but overcome with the smoke.

The sight of the outlaw unharmed, inspired them with hope, and eagerly they followed him from the Cave.

And, because of the darkness, they experienced but little difficulty in reaching the trail to the Old Stockade, and in due course arrived at that nigh-impregnable fortress.

CHAPTER XIII.

A REIGN OF TERROR.

Perched almost on the top of a rock-crowned mountain, from a distance the Stockade looked like a boulder, a fact that doubtless accounted for its never having been discovered by any of the Scouts or plainsmen. Not a tree was there within rods of it, so that surprise was out of the question, a condition that had made it so valuable to the gold miners who had used it as a refuge against Indians, and one that had recommended it to the notorious outlaw as the headquarters for his band, and the strong box for his ill-gotten gains.

So jealously had Rogers guarded the secret of its whereabouts that he had always insisted that members of his gang should be blindfolded before he would lead them to it, and thus no one but himself knew the exact trail which he had learned from an old Indian squaw whom he had helped to get revenge upon the chief of her tribe.

Even Pedro did not know how to reach it, and it was, therefore, with deep disappointment that he heard Red order him to bandage the eyes of the prisoners and Rose, and was in turn blindfolded himself.

When these precautions had been taken, the outlaw took a turn with a rope round the waist of each, and thus kept them together and guided them.

On pain of death for any attempt to run away, the Scouts had been allowed the use of their legs by Rogers, in order to facilitate the escape from the Cave. But, because of the numbness caused by the length of time their ankles had been bound, Jennings and Scotty found it difficult to climb the tortuous trail, and it was after midnight before the creaking of a door told them they had reached their destination.

"Stay where you are for a few minutes while I see that all is right," commanded Rogers, dropping the rope.

Wondering whether this was the preface to some terrible deed of treachery, the four stood still, fearing to move.

But their alarm was unfounded.

Lighting a torch, of which there were many in this lofty stronghold, the outlaw went from window to window, making sure that the shutters of iron were in place, that no rays of light might be radiated and thus disclose the location of the Old Stockade.

So well had his gang, who were practically his slaves, fashioned them, however, that they were still sound, and, returning to his companions, he removed their bandages, revealing to their eyes a scene of barbaric splendor. Rugs of finest weave and costly furs covered the floor. Exquisite tapestries adorned the walls, and scattered here and there were glorious statues and ornaments of rarest stone, silver and gold, all the loot of Red Rogers' raids which had often carried him into Mexico.

In speechless amazement, Rose and the Scouts gazed about them.

"Like it?" asked the outlaw, enjoying their surprise. "If you will be good and do as I say for a few days, until I finish my business, I will divide them among you. I'm going away, and shall not have any use for them.

"Pedro, go and bring some wine. You fellows give me your word you won't try to run away, and I'll sever your bonds. Will you do it?"

"Oh, do," implored the girl. "It will seem just as though we were living a fairy tale in some enchanted palace to be up here—only if your arms are bound, it will spoil the illusion."

"And if we don't?" demanded Jennings.

"It won't make any difference to any one but Rosie. I shall give Pedro orders to shoot any one of you who tries to run away. So it's up to you to decide whether you'll be comfortable or not."

"Sort of heads I win, tails you lose, eh?" returned Scotty, to whose youthful imagination, Rose's play-dream appealed strongly.

"That's about it, I reckon," grinned the outlaw.

For several minutes, the Scouts were silent, both loath to give their word to a man than to kill whom nothing would bring them more pleasure. But, at last, solacing themselves with the thought that a promise given to a desperado was no promise at all, they agreed, and Red cut their bonds.

Almost at the same time, Pedro returned bearing a cobweb-covered flagon and some goblets wrought from pure gold, which he filled and passed about.

"We'll drink to the success of my pledge," exclaimed the outlaw, raising the goblet to his lips. "I'm going away to-night," he continued, as he set the golden cup upon a stand. "When I'll be back, I can't just tell. Until I do, you are all to stay here. Pedro, I shall make your life pay forfeit for any escape. If any or all of the three try it, drop them in their tracks. Keep all the weapons in the chest, and don't let the key leave your person."

"But suppose you don't come back?" asked Jennings, significantly. "Do you think we are going to spend the rest of our lives here?"

"Oh, I'll be back, right enough," returned the fearless bandit. "Yet, if you think some of Turkey Gobler's men may get me, I'll leave it this way—if I'm not back again in three days, you may go back to your Fort. I may send you, anyhow, if your colonel is reasonable. That's why I brought you, to make him reasonable. You can divide the stuff here. There's only one condition that I'll make. You must agree to keep Rosie from arrest because of her assistance in getting out of jail."

"I'll agree to that," exclaimed Scotty, with an eagerness that made the other men laugh, and sent a flush to the girl's cheeks.

"Good! But don't bank too heavily on it, for I shall return."

"How about food?" inquired Rose, as the outlaw walked toward the door.

"There's enough in that canvas bag. I helped myself to some of the troopers' stores while I was waiting to get back to the Cave. When I come back, I'll bring more."

And opening the door, the desperado stepped forth into the night.

Familiar with every rock and pebble in the trail, Rogers descended rapidly to the valley.

"Guess I'd better have a mount," he muttered to himself, as he came upon a dozen or more of the cavalry horses.

Having a wonderful power over animals, the outlaw was able, by speaking soothingly, to pick out a horse, just as he had done to the Mounted Scouts, and was soon threading his way up the trail down which he had fled the day before.

Riding with caution until he was out of danger of discovery by the troopers, Rogers headed his mount for the cabin of old Quint, which he reached just at daybreak.

"Go into the woods and up to the spring," piped a shrill voice from behind a half-opened window shutter, in response to Rogers' three taps on the door. "I'll follow right along."

Quickly the desperado obeyed, and was soon joined by a small, hunched-backed man with long gray hair and beard.

"I've been expecting you ever since I heered the news," said he, without any word of greeting. "But you can't stay here."

Though Quint had always been a man of few words, he had, nevertheless, been the one friend in whom Rogers placed implicit reliance. Indeed, the old man had planned many of his raids, sharing royally in the loot, and the brevity of his greeting piqued the outlaw.

"Who said anything about staying here?" he demanded, angrily. "I've got other business."

These words seemed to bring great relief to the old man.

"Just come to say good-bye, eh? Well, I wish you luck. Anything I can do for you? Need any money?"

"Not a cent. But I tell you what I do want. I want to know where I can find Jerry Hooper, Zeb Cross and Al Bender."

These were the names of the three plainsmen who had killed Barney Landon, and as he heard them, Quint looked at the bandit keenly.

"Take my advice, and you'll leave well enough alone. This region is getting mighty hot for you. Better get out before they carry you out," he exclaimed, significantly.

"Thanks, I don't want advice," grinned Rogers. "I want to know where I can find those three fellows."

"You'll find them on their ranches, jest as they used to be."

"Much obliged. Oh, there's another thing you can do for me, Quint. You can go to the Fort and tell Edwards, with my compliments, that he's wasting time trying to smoke me out of the 'Breathing Cave.' Also tell him I'm sorry I had to take another one of his horses."

"So Edwards thinks you're in the Cave?" asked the old man, chuckling. "Sure, I'll be glad to get word to him. I wish he'd been mixed up with Barney. I don't know a man I hate more'n I do Hiram Edwards. Yes, I'll sure let him know."

"Thank you. Good-bye." And with a wave of his hand, Rogers dashed away through the woods.

For a while, he smiled as he pictured to himself the scene between the pompous colonel and the little old man; then became grave as he thought of the mission upon which he was riding.

Though Barney Landon had been a desperado, he had been accused by Zeb Cross of lifting some cattle—and wrongly. Cross, however, lured by a reward, had persuaded Hooper and Bender to waylay the outlaw. This they had done, wounding him grievously. But Landon had managed to ride to where Rogers was spending the night, and died in his arms, after which the outlaw hid his body so that no one could collect the reward.

Before his pal's death, he made him a pledge, and in attempting to carry it out, traveled to the city of Keno, where he had been arrested by twenty Mounted Scouts, but only after he had shot down ten others.

And now, at his first opportunity, this man, whose mind and ideas were so perverted that he preferred a life of crime to one of honor, was taking up the quest again.

Nearest of any of the three was Al Bender's ranch, and thither Rogers rode, recking not that it was broad daylight.

To his delight, Bender was standing in the doorway as the outlaw dashed up.

"Your time has come, Al Bender!" he hissed. And, before the terror-stricken man could escape, Rogers put a bullet through his heart.

"There's one, Barney!" he murmured, as he rode away. "Now, for Zeb Cross!"

Night had fallen before the outlaw reached his destination. Riding boldly to the door, he banged on it with his gun butt.

"You?" gasped the ranchman, as he beheld the red-bearded desperado.

But the bark of a pistol was his only answer.

Never heeding the cowboys who rushed to learn the cause of the shot, Rogers raced to the horse corral, hastily cut out one of the ponies, and was away before the people on the ranch had realized what had happened.

"That makes two," he chuckled, grimly. "I only hope Jerry Hooper is at home."

Unfortunately for the man, Red found him returning from a tour of inspection of his cattle at noon the next day.

Recognizing the outlaw from afar, Hooper tried to race away from him. But in vain.

"Now, I can face Barney," exclaimed Rogers, setting his pony toward the Old Stockade.

As the reports of the murders were received, people who had ever been concerned in any trouble with Rogers or Landon feared for their lives, and a veritable reign of terror seized the region.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE RAID ON THE OLD STOCKADE.

Although posses were formed and troopers thrown on the outlaw's trail, he managed to evade them, though several times they got near enough to shoot at him. But, with that perversity of Fate which seems at times to guard and protect wrongdoers, bring suffering upon the honest, he escaped to his fortress on the rock-crowned mountain unscathed.

Yet, in his very hour of gloating, his nemesis was stalking him.

When they awoke the morning after Rogers' departure, Scotty sought out Rose.

"What claim has Red Rogers got on you, that you stick to him?" he demanded.

"No man has any claim on Rose Landon!" flashed the girl, flushing at the question.

"Then why do you go round with Red?"

"Because he has been good to me. He stood by me and gave me money so I could live an honest life when no one else would have anything to do with me, because I was Barney Landon's daughter."

"But it's no way for you to live, girl," exclaimed the Scout. "He's sure to get caught. It's only a question of time—and not so very long a time at that, and then you'll be branded as his sweetheart."

"It's a lie! I'm no one's sweetheart!"

"But people won't believe that—and then what will you do?"

"Oh, don't! What right have you to talk to me like this, anyway?" demanded Rose.

"The right my love for you gives me."

"How dare you talk to me of love?"

"Because I mean it. You're too fine a girl to have your life blasted by Red Rogers. I want to save you."

There was that in the passionate tone in which the young Scout spoke, and in the expression upon his handsome face that drew Rose to him, irresistibly—and then the thought of taking her place among the good women of the world—a thought that always strikes hardest the woman who sees the opportunity being closed to her, flashed to her mind.

"How can you help me?" she asked, in a voice scarcely more than a whisper.

"I can make you my wife. Then I shall have the right to protect you. Oh, Rose, think what joy it would be. Don't say we haven't known each other long enough. Think what we've been through."

"But what would Red say?"

"What can he? We can go before he gets back and be married."

"But you gave him your word not to. And there's Pedro. He would shoot you."

"A man isn't supposed to keep his word to a murderer and robber. As for Pedro, I guess Jennings and I can fix him. Will you, girlie? Tell me quick before we're interrupted."

A moment Rose hesitated.

Then, with a happy little catch in her voice, she breathed:

"Yes."

But, before they could seal their betrothal with a kiss, Jennings appeared.

Keeping his secret, Scotty said:

"Let's lay for Pedro and do him up. Then we can get away, obtain reinforcements from the camp in the valley and raid the Old Stockade when Red Rogers gets back."

With a scowl, the scout nodded his head toward the girl.

"Don't worry about her. She's going with us," smiled the youngster.

"Really?"

"Yes," answered Rose.

"Good. Then let's start right now. I just saw Pedro sneaking off down the trail. By keeping our eyes open, we can get out of this place and hide until he returns, and then go on our way without danger."

No sooner had the plan been suggested than it was agreed upon.

"I wish we could take some of these things," sighed the girl, as she took a parting survey of the costly furnishings.

"Never mind, now. We'll come back for them."

And, without delay, the trio fled from their prison. Cautiously they advanced until they found a rock behind which they could hide, and there they remained until Pedro passed them.

Deeming the chance unequaled to learn the trail, the outlaw's trusted man had gone down the path, noting its every wind and turn. As this had taken longer than he had anticipated, he made all haste possible to get back.

And when he found his prisoners flown, he was panic-stricken.

"Red said my life would pay if they got away!" he wailed. Then suddenly the thought flashed into his mind that he, too, could make his escape and thus avoid the wrath of his master—and packing up everything he could carry, he fled.

With untoward incident, the Mounted Scouts reached the camp of their comrades with Rose. Their story was quickly reported to the colonel, and they were immediately summoned before him.

Upon the young Scout's statement of his engagement and as a reward for the information in regard to Rogers' retreat, the commandant of Fort Griswold agreed not to have the girl arrested.

"There's one thing I should like to ask, sir," stammered Scotty, as they started to leave the presence of the colonel.

"What is it?"

"That I be allowed to act as guide when you raid the Old Stockade."

"All right, you may. Now, leave me."

The story of the young Scout's romantic wooing was soon spread among the troopers, and they all clustered to congratulate him—and when they beheld the beauty of the girl, they envied him.

But Scotty's love-making was cut short.

Word of Rogers' murders was received by the colonel, together with the information that the outlaw was heading for the foothills again.

Selecting fifty powerful, dead-shot scouts, the commander put them in charge of Lieutenant Hastings, with Scotty as guide.

"You best start right away," he added, after announcing the detail. "If you get there before Rogers, you can hide in the Stockade and seize him when he comes in. Remember, I want him alive!"

But though they made all speed, the Scouts found that the murdering outlaw was before them.

Sighting a light from a door of whose existence he had not dreamed, Scotty crept toward it.

In a trice he whipped out his "Colts" and aimed them within.

Wondering that he did not shoot, his comrades glided to him, and the sight that met their gaze astounded them.

With chin resting upon its hand sat a skeleton across a box of gold, seemingly staring at the Scouts. And before them both stood the outlaw, evidently having just entered.

"I have kept my pledge, Barney!" cried Red Rogers. "I've sent your murderers to hell! Now, I can take my gold and bury you."

As he spoke, Red Rogers stared at the skeleton, then ran his fingers gloatingly through the gold coins.

This mercenary act shattered the spell that held the Scouts immovable.

"Hands up!" yelled Scotty.

Like a flash, the outlaw wheeled.

"The tables are turned!" smiled the young Scout, grimly. "You're my prisoner, now!"

Realizing that resistance was vain, Red Rogers chose the end that suited his terrible career.

With a mocking laugh, he dashed past Scotty, straight toward the muzzles of the fifty rifles.

"Fire!" rang out the lieutenant's voice.

Crash! went the guns, and Red Rogers pitched forward, his body riddled.

The raid on the Old Stockade had been successful!

Rose and Scotty were soon married, and the girl was later awarded a large portion of the gold found in the outlaw's lair.

For a few days Pedro managed to escape the troopers, but he was finally caught and sent to prison for the rest of his life.

THE END.

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A new number is issued every Thursday.

LIST OF TITLES

December 1—No. 1. THE OUTLAW'S PLEDGE or The Raid on the Old Stockade December 8—No. 2. TRACKED TO HIS LAIR or The Pursuit of the Midnight Raider December 15—No. 3. THE BLACK DEATH or The Curse of the Navajo Witch December 22—No. 4. THE SQUAW MAN'S REVENGE or Kidnapped by the Piutes December 29—No. 5. TRAPPED BY THE CREES or Tricked by a Renegade Scout January 5—No. 6. BETRAYED BY A MOCCASIN or The Round-Up of the Indian Smugglers January 12—No. 7. FLYING CLOUD'S LAST STAND or The Battle of Dead Man's Canyon January 19—No. 8. A DASH FOR LIFE or Tricked by Timber Wolves January 26—No. 9. THE DECOY MESSAGE or The Ruse of the Border Jumpers February 2—No. 10. THE MIDNIGHT ALARM or The Raid on the Paymaster's Camp February 9—No. 11. THE MASKED RIDERS or The Mystery of Grizzly Gulch February 16—No. 12. LURED BY OUTLAWS or The Mounted Ranger's Desperate Ride

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THE ARTHUR WESTBROOK COMPANY CLEVELAND, OHIO, U.S.A.