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Mulford, Clarence Edward, 1883-1956

"Hopalong Cassidy's Rustler Round-Up"

Any one who thinks so, or that he should be treated like the
others, step forward. Majority rules."
There was no advance and he spoke again: "Is there any one here who
objects to this man dying?"
Hopalong and Red awkwardly bumped their knuckles against their guns
and there was no response.
The prisoner was bound with cowhide to the wall of the cabin and
four men sat near and facing him. The noonday meal was eaten in
silence, and the punchers rode off to see about rounding up the cattle
that grazed over the plain as far as eye could see. Supper-time came
and passed, and busy men rode away in all directions. Others came and
relieved the guards, and at midnight another squad took up the vigil.
Day broke and the thunder of hoofs as the punchers rounded up the
cattle became very noticeable. One herd swept past toward the south,
guarded and guided by fifteen men. Two hours later and another
followed, taking a slightly different trail so as to avoid the close-
cropped grass left by the first. At irregular intervals during the day
other herds swept by, until six had passed and denuded the plain of
cattle.
Buck, perspiring and dusty, accompanied by Hopalong and Red, rode up
to where the guards smoked and joked. Frenchy came out of the cabin
and smiled at his friends. Swinging in his left hand was a newly
filled Colt's .45, which was recognized by his friends as the one
found in the cabin and it bore a rough "T" gouged in the butt.


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