|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 84
"It's a wonder he can sleep alongside of that noise."
"He can't," Fresno volunteered. "He'll wake himself up in a
minute. He's off now."
The snores of Show Low grew more frequent until he climaxed his
accompaniment to sleep with one awful snort, which awakened him.
"Eh, what's that?" he yelled, as he bounded to a sitting posture.
"Didn't I tell you?" queried Fresno.
Sage-brush grinned and slowly arose, gathering up his saddle and
rope.
Swinging one over each arm, he started toward the corral, saying:
"Come on, boys, we got a lot to do to-day. Git your hosses."
The night riders, were coming into camp greeting their comrades
with grunts, or in a few words telling them what to guard against
in some particular part of the grazing herd.
The sun had risen. The cattle were on their feet browsing the
short, sweet grass, moving slowly toward the river.
"Work," growled Show Low, "darn me if I ain't commenced to hate
it."
Fresno picked up his saddle to follow his foreman, but paused
long enough to fire this parting shot at the cook: "Say,
Parenthesis, if them biscuits you're makin' is as hard as the
last bunch, save four of 'em for me. I want to shoe that pony of
mine."
Parenthesis threw a tin cup at Fresno, who dodged it. Punching
the dough viciously, he said: "Darn this housekeepin'. Gets a
feller's hands all rough,--it's enough to spile the disposition
of a saint."
His soliloquy was interrupted by Buck McKee riding up to the
wagon from Lazy K outfit, which was camping a mile below them.
"Hello, Cookie! How goes it?" was his greeting.
"You wind it up, and it goes eight days." Parenthesis bellowed,
his temper fast reaching the breaking-point.
"Jack Payson ain't back yet?" Buck asked, paying no attention to
the bad humor of Parenthesis.
"Not that I knows on."
The cook rolled the dough with elaborate care.
"Nor Hoover?"
"Ain't seen him," he replied curtly.
"Well, they ain't comin' back, either. They pulled it off pretty
slick on us fellers. Hoover he lets Payson go and makes a bluff
at chasin' after him. Then they gets off somewhere, splits up
the money, and gives us the laugh."
Parenthesis turned on him in anger and shouted: "'I'll bet my
outfit against a pair of green socks either one of 'em or both
will be back here before this round-up is over."
"You will, eh?" snarled Buck. "Well, we're just waitin' for
'em. We'll swing Payson so high he'll look like a buzzard, and
as for Hoover--well, he's served his last term as sheriff in this
yere county, you hear me shouting."
McKee cut his pony with his quirt and dashed away in time to
escape an unwelcome encounter with several members of the
Sweetwater outfit who were riding back to camp.
"S-t-a-y with him, Bud, s-t-a-y with him," shouted Parenthesis,
as the first of the cowboys pitched on a bucking horse past the
chuck-wagon, the rider using quirt and spurs until he got the
bronco into a lope. The other boys followed, each cayuse
apparently inventing some new sort of deviltry.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|