Jim Silver, the man with tufts of silver hair over each temple, the man who sometimes looked like a horned devil in the moonlight, hungered for action as most men hunger for food. His great horse, Parade, and his wolf, Frosty, who obeyed nothing but the wild instincts of his breed and the soft commands of Silvertip, were part of the legend of the West. But when the Elkdale bank was robbed of half a million dollars, while Oliver Wayland, the teller, stood by with his hands above his head, Silvertip found out about it not from Wayland, but from one of the four robbers, the one who escaped with the cash. when the three criminals shot their way out of jail and closed in on Silvertip, Wayland, the money, and their double-crossing partner, in the canyons of Iron Mountain, enough hard-riding, bullet-slinging action exploded to satisfy even Silvertip.