The Mysterious Rider by Zane Grey
page 53 of 391 (13%)
page 53 of 391 (13%)
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handle, whether we like it or not. There's Montana and Blud and Lemme
Two Bits. They call me Professor. Why should you kick on yours?" "I won't stand it now. Not from any one--especially not you." "Ahuh! Well, I'm afraid it'll stick," replied Moore, with sarcasm. "It sure suits you. Don't you bust everything you monkey with? Your old dad will sure be glad to see you bust the round-up to-day--and I reckon the outfit to-morrow." "You insolent cowpuncher!" shouted Belllounds, growing beside himself with rage. "If you don't shut up I'll bust your face." "Shut up!... Me? Nope. It can't be did. This is a free country, Buster Jack." There was no denying Moore's cool, stinging repetition of the epithet that had so affronted Belllounds. "I always hated you!" he rasped out, hoarsely. Striking hard at Moore, he missed, but a second effort landed a glancing blow on the cowboy's face. Moore staggered back, recovered his balance, and, hitting out shortly, he returned the blow. Belllounds fell against the corral fence, which upheld him. "Buster Jack--you're crazy!" cried the cowboy, his eyes flashing. "Do you think you can lick me--after where you've been these three years?" Like a maddened boy Belllounds leaped forward, this time his increased violence and wildness of face expressive of malignant rage. He swung his |
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