Other editions of book The Bandit of Hell's Bend

Edgar Rice Burroughs is well qualified to write Western fiction. He Òrode rangeÓ in the early days and knows the life. This is the first cowboy story he has written and he makes good--as usual. No better yarn of the old cattle days can be found in current fiction. Tense dramatic situations; unforgettable characters presented with incomparable skill; the humor and repartee of the ÒboysÓ, and over all the glamor and romance of the old west.

The Bandit of Hell's Bend is a Western fiction novel by American writer Edgar Rice Burroughs. The Bandit of Hell's Bend was published by "Argosy All-Story Weekly" in September and October 1924. The book version was first published by A. C. McClurg on 1925-06-04.[1] This is one of four Westerns that Burroughs wrote. He had two working titles for it: "The Black Coyote" and "Diana of the Bar Y." Elias Henders is the prosperous owner of a ranch and a gold mine. Competing for his daughter Diana, ranch hand Colby sabotages recovering alcoholic foreman Bull, and takes his job. The local stage is repeatedly robbed of gold bullion from the owner's mine, and Bull is suspected. The cowardly sheriff does not take action on the robberies. Rich Easterner Wainwright tries to buy the mine and ranch for a low price, but Henders refuses the offer and discusses the property's true value with Diana. She is intrigued by Wainwright's Eastern-educated son Jefferson, who proposes marriage. However, when they are attacked by Indians during the roundup, he runs rather than defend her. Henders is mortally wounded in the battle.

A half-dozen men sprawled comfortably in back-tilted chairs against the side of the Bar Y bunk-house at the home ranch. They were young men, lithe of limb, tanned of face and clear of eye. Their skins shone from recent ablutions and their slicked hair was still damp, for they had but just come from the evening meal, and meals at the home ranch required a toilet.One of them was singing.“In the shade of a tree we two sat, him an’ me, Where the Haegler Hills slope to the Raft While our ponies browsed ‘round, reins a-draggin’ the ground; Then he looks at me funny an’ laft.”“Most anyone would,” interrupted a listener.“Shut up,” admonished another, “I ain’t only heered this three hundred an’ sixty-five times in the las’ year. Do you think I want to miss anything?”Unabashed, the sweet singer continued.“‘Do you see thet there town?’ he inquires, pintin’ down To some shacks sprawlin’ ‘round in the heat. I opined thet I did an’ he shifted his quid After drowndin’ a tumble-bug neat. Then he looks at me square. ‘There’s a guy waitin’ there Thet the sheep-men have hired to git me. Are you game to come down to thet jerk-water town Jest to see what in Hell you will see?’”

A half-dozen men sprawled comfortably in back-tilted chairs against the side of the Bar Y bunk-house at the home ranch. They were young men, lithe of limb, tanned of face and clear of eye. Their skins shone from recent ablutions and their slicked hair was still damp, for they had but just come from the evening meal, and meals at the home ranch required a toilet.