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Mulford, Clarence Edward, 1883-1956

"Hopalong Cassidy's Rustler Round-Up"

"I had business over to
Santa Fe!"
"Shore," endorsed Hopalong. "We've all had business over to Santa
Fe. Why, about eight years ago I had business-"
"Choke up," interposed Red. "About eight years ago yu was washin'
pans for cookie, an' askin' me for cartridges. Buck used to larrup yu
about four times a day eight years ago."
To their roars of laughter Hopalong dropped to the rear, where, red-
faced and quiet, he bent his thoughts on how to get square.
"We'll have a pleasant time corralling that gang," began Billy for
the third time.
"For heaven's sake get off that trail!" replied Lanky. "We aint
goin' to hold `em up. De-plomacy's th' game."
Billy looked dubious and said nothing. If he hadn't proven that he
was as nervy as any man in the outfit they might have taken more stock
in his grumbling.
"What's the latest from Abilene way?" Asked Buck of Frenchy.
"Nothin' much `cept th' barb-wire ruction," replied the recruit.
"What's that?" Asked Red, glancing apprehensively back at Hopalong.
"Why, th' settlers put up barb-wire fence so's the cattle wouldn't
get on their farms. That would a been all right, for there wasn't much
of it. But some Britishers who own a couple of big ranches out there
got smart all of a sudden an' strung wire all along their lines.
Punchers crossin' th' country would run plumb into a fence an' would
have to ride a day an' a half, mebbe, afore they found th' corner.


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