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Mulford, Clarence Edward, 1883-1956

"Hopalong Cassidy's Rustler Round-Up"

Jus' one more, jus'
one more. Yu see, m'friend, it was all Jimmy's fault. He-"
Red secured a chancery hold and dragged his wailing and remonstrating friend
to Buck, who frowned with displeasure.
"This yere," said Red in belligerent disgust, "is th' dod-blasted hero
what's a-goin' to save Hopalong from a mournful future. What are we a-goin'
to do?"
Buck slipped the Colt's from Billy's holster and yanked the erring one to
his feet: "Fill him full of sweet oil, source him in th' trough, walk him
around for awhile an' see what it does," he ordered.
Two hours later Billy walked up to his foreman and weakly asked what was
wanted. He looked as though he had just been released from a six-months' stay
in a hospital.
"Yu go over to th' hotel an' find Hopalong," said the foreman sternly. "Stay
with him all th' time, for there is a plot on foot to wing him on th' sly. If
yu ain't mighty spry he'll be dead by night."
Having delivered the above instructions and prevarications, Buck throttled
the laugh which threatened to injure him and scowled at Red, who again fled
into the saloon for fear of spoiling it all with revealed mirth.
The convalescent stared in open-mouthed astonishment:
"What's he doin' in th' hotel, an' who's goin' to plug him?" He asked.
"Yu leave that to me," replied Buck, "All yu has to do is to get on th' job
with yore gun," handing the weapon to him, "an' freeze to him like a flea on
a cow.


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