Well, naturally, when a man has been used to ridin' where he blame
pleases an' as straight as he pleases he ain't goin' to chase along a
five-foot fence to Trisco when he wants to get to Waco. So th'
punchers got to totin' wire-snips, an' when they runs up agin a fence
they cuts down half a mile or so. Sometimes they'd tie their ropes to
a strand an' pull off a couple of miles an' then go back after th'
rest. Th' ranch bosses sent out men to watch th' fences an' told `em
to shoot any festive puncher that monkeyed with th' hardware. Well, yu
know what happens when a puncher gets shot at."
"When fences grow in Texas there'll be th' devil to pay," said Buck.
He hated to think that some day the freedom of the range would be
annulled, for he knew that it would be the first blow against the
cowboys' occupation. When a man's cattle couldn't spread out all over
the land he wouldn't have to keep so many men. Farms would spring up
and the sun of the free-and-easy cowboy would slowly set.
"I reckons th' cutters are classed th' same as rustlers," remarked
Red with a gleam of temper.
"By th' owners, but not by th' punchers; an' it's th' punchers that
count," replied Frenchy.
"Well, we'll give them a fight," interposed Hopalong, riding up.
"When it gets so I can't go where I please I'll start on th' warpath.
I won't buck the cavalry, but I'll keep it busy huntin' for me an'
I'll have time to `tend to th' wire-fence men, too.
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