At the end of a dry, uphill ride over barren country Jean Isbel unpacked to camp at the edge of the cedars where a little rocky cañon, green with willow and cottonwood, promised water and grass.

Foreward: It was inevitable that in my efforts to write romantic history of the great West I should at length come to the story of a feud. For long I have steered clear of this rock. - - - - - - - Suffice it to say that this romance is true to my conception of this war, and I base it upon the setting I learned to know and love so well, upon the strange passions of primative people, and upon my instinctive reaction to the facts and rumors that I gathered. Z. G.