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Bower, B. M., 1871-1940

"The Flying U's Last Stand"


"All you'll sell us. We want to give mortgages, with the
stock for security."
"Oh, yuh do, ay? What if I have to foreclose on yuh?" The
pucker of his lips grew more pronounced." Where do you git
off at, then?"
"Well, we kinda thought we could fix it up to save part of
the increase outa the wreck, anyway."
"Oh. That's it ay?" He studied them another minute. "You'll
want all my best cows, too, I reckon--all that grade stock I
shipped in last spring. Ay?"
"We wouldn't mind," grinned Weary, glancing at the others
roosting at ease along the edge of the porch.
"Think you could handle five-hundred head--the pick uh the
bunch?"
"Sure, we could! We'd rather split 'em up amongst us,
though--let every fellow buy so many. We can throw in
together on the herding."
"Think you can keep the milk-cows between you and Dry Lake,
ay?" The Old Man chuckled--the first little chuckle since the
Happy Family left him so unceremoniously three weeks before.
"How about that, Pink?"
"Why, I think we can," chirped Pink cheerfully.
"Huh! Well, you're the toughest bunch, take yuh up one side
and down the other, I ever seen keep onta jail--I guess maybe
you can do it. But lemme tell you boys something--and I want
you to remember it: You don't want to git the idea in your
heads you're going to have any snap; you ain't.


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