"Blast `em! Blast `em! They've got Buck!
They've got Buck, blast `em! They've got Buck, Skinny! Good old Buck!
They've got him! Jimmy's gone, Johnny's plugged, and now Buck's gone!
Come on!" he sobbed in a frenzy of vengeance. "Come on, Skinny! We'll
tear their cussed hides into a deeper red than they are now! Oh, blast
it, I can't see-where's my gun?" He groped for the rifle and fought
Skinny when the latter, red-eyed but cool, endeavored to restrain him.
"Lemme go, curse yu! Don't yu know they got Buck? Lemme go!"
"Down! Red's got di' skunk. Yu can't do nothin'-they'd drop yu afore
yu took five steps. Red's got him, I tell yu! Do yu want me to lick
yu? We'll pay `em back with interest if yu'll keep yore head!"
exclaimed Skinny, throwing the crazed man heavily.
Musical tones, rising and falling in weird octaves, whining
pityingly, diabolically, sobbing in a fascinating monotone and
slobbering in ragged chords, calling as they swept over the plain,
always calling and exhorting, they mingled in barbaric discord with
the defiant barks of the six-shooters and the inquiring cracks of the
Winchesters. High up in the air several specks sailed and drifted,
more coming up rapidly from all directions. Buzzards know well where
food can be found.
As Hopalong leaned back against a rock he was hit in the thigh by a
ricochet that tore its way out, whirling like a circular saw, a span
above where it entered.
Pages:
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71