In another age, with armour and a golden chain and spurs, Jerry Strann would have been--but why think of that?
Swords are not forty-fives, and the Twentieth Century is not the Thirteenth.

He was, in fact, born just six hundred years too late.

From his childhood he had thirsted for battle as other children thirst for milk: and now he rode anything on hoofs and threw a knife like a Mexican--with either hand--and at short range he did snap shooting with two revolvers that made rifle experts sick at heart.
However, the men of the Three B's, as everyone understands, are not gentle or long-enduring, and you will wonder why this young destroyer was allowed to range at large so long.

There was a vital reason.

Up in the mountains lived Mac Strann, the hermit-trapper, who hated everything in the wide world except his young brother, the beautiful, wild, and sunny Jerry Strann.