had been quick or cunning enough to achieve that end.
"Tige, little hoss, you hear me make my brag. Day 's coming when you 'll carry double, an' that young she-wolf 'll be right here 'longside my saddle horn, spirit broke an' tame as a pet squirrel. Either that, Tige hoss, or you 'll have another rider."
Sioux Pass is the single gateway through the Broken Horns from the range country of the east into the high-basin country lying in the lap of three mountain ranges and caught up on its westernmost slopes to the very ridge-pole of the continent. At the time this story tells itself the Basin had not yet come under even the shadowy reign of law that boasted dominion over the Big Country to the east of the Broken Horns; it was a No Man's Land where the trapper and the elk killer occasionally crossed the trail of a prospector; no train whistle broke the stillness of the high places. Into this wilderness the old outlaw trail from Montana to Mexico loses itself before venturing out to skirt Utah's Bed Desert and follow the Colorado River to Nogales and the Line. Over this trail once rode Harvey and Loney Logan, the slayers of Old Man Lan-
