Bar-20 Days

E. Mulford Clarence

Description

Part of the much-loved Hopalong Cassidy series, Bar-20 Days continues the saga of the cantankerous cowboy and his crew of rowdy ranch hands. The Bar-20 ranch features prominently in this hilarious and action-packed collection of stories and episodes dealing with different aspects of life on the range.

Sujets

• Westerns
• Western (genre)
• Western

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 janvier 2012
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781775455097
• Langue: English

Extrait

BAR-20 DAYS
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CLARENCE E. MULFORD
 
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Bar-20 Days First published in 1911 ISBN 978-1-77545-509-7 © 2012 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Chapter I - On a Strange Range Chapter II - The Rebound Chapter III - Dick Martin Starts Something Chapter IV - Johnny Arrives Chapter V - The Ghost of the San Miguel Chapter VI - Hopalong Loses a Horse Chapter VII - Mr. Cassidy Cogitates Chapter VIII - Red Brings Trouble Chapter IX - Mr. Holden Drops In Chapter X - Buck Takes a Hand Chapter XI - Hopalong Nurses a Grouch Chapter XII - A Friend in Need Chapter XIII - Mr. Townsend, Marshal Chapter XIV - The Stranger's Plan Chapter XV - Johnny Learns Something Chapter XVI - The End of the Trail Chapter XVII - Edwards' Ultimatum Chapter XVIII - Harlan Strikes Chapter XIX - The Bar-20 Returns Chapter XX - Barb Wire Chapter XXI - The Fence Chapter XXII - Mr. Boggs is Disgusted Chapter XXIII - Tex Ewalt Hunts Trouble Chapter XXIV - The Master
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Affectionately Dedicated to "M.D."
Chapter I - On a Strange Range
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Two tired but happy punchers rode into the coast town and dismounted infront of the best hotel. Putting up their horses as quickly as possiblethey made arrangements for sleeping quarters and then hastened out toattend to business. Buck had been kind to delegate this mission to themand they would feel free to enjoy what pleasures the town might afford.While at that time the city was not what it is now, nevertheless it wascapable of satisfying what demands might be made upon it by two veryactive and zealous cow-punchers. Their first experience began as theyleft the hotel.
"Hey, you cow-wrastlers!" said a not unpleasant voice, and they turnedsuspiciously as it continued: "You've shore got to hang up them gunswith the hotel clerk while you cavorts around on this range. This is fence country."
They regarded the speaker's smiling face and twinkling eyes and laughed."Well, yo're the foreman if you owns that badge," grinned Hopalong,cheerfully. "We don't need no guns, nohow, in this town, we don't.Plumb forgot we was toting them. But mebby you can tell us where lawyerJeremiah T. Jones grazes in daylight?"
"Right over yonder, second floor," replied the marshal. "An' cometo think of it, mebby you better leave most of yore cash with theguns—somebody'll take it away from you if you don't. It'd be an awfultemptation, an' flesh is weak."
"Huh!" laughed Johnny, moving back into the hotel to leave his gun,closely followed by Hopalong. "Anybody that can turn that little trickon me an' Hoppy will shore earn every red cent; why, we've been toKansas City!"
As they emerged again Johnny slapped his pocket, from which sounded amusical jingling. "If them weak people try anything on us, we may comebetween them and their money!" he boasted.
"From the bottom of my heart I pity you," called the marshal, watchingthem depart, a broad smile illuminating his face. "In about twenty-fourhours they'll put up a holler for me to go git it back for 'em," hemuttered. "An' I almost believe I'll do it, too. I ain't never seen noneof that breed what ever left a town without empty pockets an' achingheads—an' the smarter they think they are the easier they fall." Afleeting expression of discontent clouded the smile, for the lure of theopen range is hard to resist when once a man has ridden free underits sky and watched its stars. "An' I wish I was one of 'em again," hemuttered, sauntering on.
Jeremiah T. Jones, Esq., was busy when his door opened, but he leanedback in his chair and smiled pleasantly at their bow-legged entry,waving them towards two chairs. Hopalong hung his sombrero on a letterpress and tipped his chair back against the wall; Johnny hung grimly tohis hat, sat stiffly upright until he noticed his companion's pose,and then, deciding that everything was all right, and that Hopalong wasbetter up in etiquette than himself, pitched his sombrero dexterouslyover the water pitcher and also leaned against the wall. Nobody couldlose him when it came to doing the right thing.
"Well, gentlemen, you look tired and thirsty. This is considered goodfor all human ailments of whatsoever nature, degree, or wheresoeverlocated, in part or entirety, ab initio ," Mr. Jones remarked, fillingglasses. There was no argument and when the glasses were empty, hecontinued: "Now what can I do for you? From the Bar-20? Ah, yes; I wasexpecting you. We'll get right at it," and they did. Half an hour laterthey emerged on the street, free to take in the town, or to have thetown take them in,—which was usually the case.
"What was that he said for us to keep away from?" asked Johnny with keeninterest.
"Sh! Not so loud," chuckled Hopalong, winking prodigiously.
Johnny pulled tentatively at his upper lip but before he could reply hiscompanion had accosted a stranger.
"Friend, we're pilgrims in a strange land, an' we don't know the trails.Can you tell us where the docks are?"
"Certainly; glad to. You'll find them at the end of this street," and hesmilingly waved them towards the section of the town which Jeremiah T.Jones had specifically and earnestly warned them to avoid.
"Wonder if you're as thirsty as me?" solicitously inquired Hopalong ofhis companion.
"I was just wondering the same," replied Johnny. "Say," he confided ina lower voice, "blamed if I don't feel sort of lost without that Colt.Every time I lifts my right laig she goes too high—don't feel natural,nohow."
"Same here; I'm allus feeling to see if I lost it," Hopalong responded."There ain't no rubbing, no weight, nor nothing."
"Wish I had something to put in its place, blamed if I don't."
"Why, now yo're talking—mebby we can buy something," grinned Hopalong,happily. "Here's a hardware store—come on in."
The clerk looked up and laid aside his novel. "Good-morning, gentlemen;what can I do for you? We've just got in some fine new rifles," hesuggested.
The customers exchanged looks and it was Hopalong who first found hisvoice. "Nope, don't want no rifles," he replied, glancing around."To tell the truth, I don't know just what we do want, but we wantsomething, all right—got to have it. It's a funny thing, come to thinkof it; I can't never pass a hardware store without going in an' buyingsomething. I've been told my father was the same way, so I must inheritit. It's the same with my pardner, here, only he gets his weakness fromhis whole family, and it's different from mine. He can't pass a saloonwithout going in an' buying something."
"Yo're a cheerful liar, an' you know it," retorted Johnny. "You know thereason why I goes in saloons so much—you'd never leave 'em if I didn'tdrag you out. He inherits that weakness from his grandfather, twiceremoved," he confided to the astonished clerk, whose expression didn'tknow what to express.
"Let's see: a saw?" soliloquized Hopalong. "Nope; got lots of 'em, an'they're all genuine Colts," he mused thoughtfully. "Axe? Nails? Augurs?Corkscrews? Can we use a corkscrew, Johnny? Ah, thought I'd wake you up.Now, what was it Cookie said for us to bring him? Bacon? Got any bacon?Too bad—oh, don't apologize; it's all right. Cold chisels—that's thething if you ain't got no bacon. Let me see a three-pound cold chiselabout as big as that,"—extending a huge and crooked forefinger,—"an'with a big bulge at one end. Straight in the middle, circling off intoa three-cornered wavy edge on the other side. What? Look here! You can'ttell us nothing about saloons that we don't know. I want a three-poundcold chisel, any kind, so it's cold."
Johnny nudged him. "How about them wedges?"
"Twenty-five cents a pound," explained the clerk, groping for hisbearings.
"They might do," Hopalong muttered, forcing the article mentioned intohis holster. "Why, they're quite hocus-pocus. You take the brother tomine, Johnny."
"Feels good, but I dunno," his companion muttered. "Little wide at thesharp end. Hey, got any loose shot?" he suddenly asked, whereat Hopalongbeamed and the clerk gasped. It didn't seem to matter whether theybought bacon, cold chisels, wedges, or shot; yet they looked sober.
"Yes, sir; what size?"
"Three pounds of shot, I said!" Johnny rumbled in his throat. "Nevermind what size."
"We never care about size when we buy shot," Hopalong smiled. "But,Johnny, wouldn't them little screws be better?" he asked, pointingeagerly.
"Mebby; reckon we better get 'em mixed—half of each," Johnny gravelyreplied. "Anyhow, there ain't much difference."
The clerk had been behind that counter for four years, and executingand filling orders had become a habit with him; else he would have giventhem six pounds of cold chisels and corkscrews, mixed. His mouth wasstill open when he weighed out the screws.
"Mix 'em! Mix 'em!" roared Hopalong, and the stunned clerk complied, andcharged them for the whole purchase at the rate set down for screws.
Hopalong started to pour his purchase into the holster which, being openat the bottom, gayly passed the first instalment through to the floor.He stopped and looked appealingly at Johnny, and Johnny, in pain fromholding back screams of laughter, looked at him indignantly. Then aguileless smile crept over Hopalong's face and he stopped the openingwith a wad of wrapping paper and disposed of the shot and screws, Johnnyfollowing his laudable example. After haggling a moment over the billthey paid it and walked out, to the apparent joy of the clerk.
"Don't laugh, Kid; you'll spoil it all," warned Hopalon