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Updated: May 7, 2025
If such a youth chose to turn his abilities in the right direction he might accomplish much. Lorry's extreme frankness satisfied Torrance that the boy had told the truth. He would give him a chance. "Do you know Bud Shoop?" queried the supervisor. "No, sir. I know what he looks like. He's been to our hotel." "Well, you might look him up. He may be out of town.
We was freightin' in to camp, back in the Horseshoe Hills. You know that grade afore you get to the mesa? Well, the ole mule pulled the grade, sweatin' and puffin' like he was pullin' the whole load. And I guess he was, in his mind. Anyhow, he got to the top, and laid down and died. Mules sure like to work. Now a horse would have fanned it." Shoop nodded.
The Blue's good enough for me and I can get a job ridin' for the Blue any time I want to cinch up." "Well, Fade, I reckon you better cinch up pronto, then," said Shoop who had just entered. "Here's your time. Jack's some sore, believe me!" "Sore, eh? Well, before he gets through with me he'll be sorer. You can tell him for me." "'Course I can but I ain't goin' to. And I wouldn't if I was you.
A mountain stream, all but hidden by the grasses, meandered across the mesa to an emerald hollow of coarse marsh-grass. A few yards from this pool, and on its southern side, stood the mountain cabin of the Shoop homestead, a roomy building of logs, its wide, easy-sloping veranda roof covered with home-made shakes. Near the house was a small corral and stable of logs.
As the herd was not large, in fact, numbered but five hundred, it was possible to keep it moving steadily and well bunched, throughout the night. Within a short mile of the water-hole the riders began to mill the herd. Bud Shoop, riding up to Corliss, pointed toward the east. "Reckon we can't hold 'em much longer, Jack. They're crazy dry and they smell water." "All right, Bud.
Chance and me found him layin' on the trail." The men swung to their saddles. "Better come along, Loring," said Shoop, riding close to the old sheep-man. "Looks like they was more 'n one side to this deal. And you, too, Sun." The riders, led by the gesticulating and excited Sundown, swung out to the road and crossed to the forest.
Hardy had a long consultation with Shoop, and later notified Brewster that he was under arrest as an accomplice in the murder of Pat and for aiding the murderer to escape.
Torrance smiled, and waved his hand as Bud waddled from the office, with Bondsman at his heels. About an hour later, as Torrance was dictating a letter, he glanced up. Bud Shoop, astride a big bay horse, passed down the street.
But it was evident to the old-timers that Shoop shot with less effort and waste motion than his lithe competitor. And High Chin was the younger man by twenty years. Thus far the tests had not been considered difficult. But when the sheepman stepped off ten paces and faced the competitors with a cigar held at arm's length, the chattering of the crowd ceased.
And then aloud: "Say, Jack, I ain't sayin' I'm glad to see you get beat up, but that bing on the head sure got you started right. The boys was commencin' to wonder how long you'd stand it without gettin' your back up. She's up. I smell smoke." At Antelope, Shoop put up the horses. Later he joined his employer and they had supper at the hotel.
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