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Updated: May 24, 2025
"I reckon by noon we can say 'Hello! to yore bronc," Dud prophesied. "No need to trail it. All we got to do is follow the river." An hour later he drew up and swung from the saddle. "Now I wonder who we've had with us this glad mawnin'." Dud stooped and examined carefully tracks in the mud. Bob joined him. "Powder River ain't so lonesome now. Met up with friends, looks like.
Whang jerked so hard that he pulled Jim half over. "Wal, he ain't a bronc, but I reckon he's all the rest." drawled Jim. Both cowboys seemed slow, careless. They were neither indifferent nor responsive. Columbine saw their keen, steady glances go over Belllounds. Then she took a second and less hasty look at him.
The maniacs, with commendable promptness, jerked Severne to his feet. Several more bent over his horse. "Jess's I thought!" shouted one of these. "Jess's I thought! He's stole this cayuse. This is Hank Smith's bronc. I'd know him any-whar!" "That's right! Bar O brand!" cried several. Then men who held him yanked Severne here and there. "End of yore rope this trip!
Bob asked his companion as they jogged along at a road gait. "I mean when he's chasin' dogies across a hill on the jump." "He don't," Dud answered ungrammatically but promptly. "His bronc 'tends to that. If you try to guide you're sure enough liable to take a fall." "But when the hole's covered with grass?" "You gotta take a chance," Dud said. "They're sure-footed, these cowponies are.
Of course, Ben Ferris might have told the truth and he might return the horse according to directions. Hopalong emerged from his reverie long enough to appeal to his mount: "Bronc, I've been thinking: am I or am I not a jackass?" After a night spent on the plain and a cigarette for his breakfast, Hopalong, grouchy and hungry, rode slowly to the place appointed for his meeting with Red, but Mr.
So this animal she bestrode must have been a bronc, for it did not take him long to elicit from Carley a muttered, "I don't know what bronc means, but it sounds like this pony acts." Carley had inquired the animal's name from the young herder who had saddled him for her. "Wal, I reckon he ain't got much of a name," replied the lad, with a grin, as he scratched his head.
"Won't you light off'n yore bronc and stay to supper, Miss Rutherford?" she invited. "Thank you, Mrs. Hart. I can't. Must get home." With a little nod to the woman she swung her horse around and was gone. Hart did not show up for supper nor for breakfast. It was an easy guess that he lacked the hardihood to face them after his attempted betrayal.
The trail herd had been driven in an hour before. "How's old Alkali?" asked Dave of his friend Buck, thumping him on the back. "Jes' tolable," answered the old-timer equably, making great play with knife and fork. "A man or a hawss don't either one amount to much after they onct been stove up. Since that bronc piled me at Willow Creek I been mighty stiff, you might say."
One day I gets all ensnared up in aspirations for to eat some canned grub that hasn't ever mooed or baaed or grunted or been in peck measures. So, I gets on my bronc and pushes the wind for Uncle Emsley Telfair's store at the Pimienta Crossing on the Nueces. "About three in the afternoon I throwed my bridle rein over a mesquite limb and walked the last twenty yards into Uncle Emsley's store.
"'She's gone riding, I whisper in my bronc's ear, 'with Birdstone Jack, the hired mule from Sheep Man's Cañada. Did you get that, old Leather-and-Gallops? "That bronc of mine wept, in his way. He'd been raised a cow pony and he didn't care for snoozers. "I went back and said to Uncle Emsley: 'Did you say a sheep man? "'I said a sheep man, says Uncle Emsley again.
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