Hopalong Cassidy's Rustler Round-Up by Clarence Edward Mulford
page 85 of 255 (33%)
page 85 of 255 (33%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
added with anxiety.
"Who, me?" Asked I-Hopalong with a rising inflection. "Most assuredly," breathed the sheriff. "Why, this is the first time I ever heard anything about it," replied the astonished cow-puncher. "I'm an American-don't that make any difference?" "Not in this case, I'm afraid. You see, it's for manslaughter." "Well, don't that beat th' devil, now?" Said Hopalong. He felt sorry that a citizen of the glorious United States should be prey for troublesome sheriffs, but he was sure that his duty to Texas called upon him never to submit to arrest at the hands of a Mexican. Remembering the Alamo, and still behind his Colt, he reached over and took up the shining weapon from the table and snapped it open on his knee. After placing the cartridges in his pocket he tossed the gun over on the bed and, reaching inside his shirt, drew out another and threw it after the first. "That's yore gun; I forgot to leave it," he said, apologetically. "Anyhow yu needs two," he added. Then he glanced around the room, noticed the poster and walked over and read it. A full swift sweep of his gloved hand tore it from its fastenings and crammed it under his belt. The glimmer of anger in his eyes gave way as he realized that his head was worth a definite price, and he smiled at what the boys would say when he showed it to them. |
|