"
Cries of approbation arose on all sides, for his auditors ignored the
fact that their kind, by avarice and thievery, had forever killed the
occupation of maverick-hunting. That belonged to the old days, before
the demand for cows and their easy and cheap transportation had boosted
the prices and made them valuable.
Slivers Lowe leaped up from his chair. "Yo're right, Harper! Dead right!
_I_ was a little cattle owner once, so was you, an' Jerry, an' most of
us!" Slivers found it convenient to forget that fully half of his small
herd had perished in the bitter and long winter of five years before,
and that the remainder had either flowed down his parched throat or been
lost across the big round table near the bar. Not a few of his cows were
banked in the east under Harlan's name.
The rear door opened slightly and one of the loungers looked up and
nodded. "It's all right, Jerry. But get a move on!"
"Here, _you_!" called Harlan, quickly bending over the trap door,
"_Lively!_"
Jerry was half way to the proprietor when the front door swung open and
Hopalong, closely followed by the marshal, leaped into the room, and
immediately thereafter the back door banged open and admitted Johnny.
Jerry's right hand was in his side coat pocket and Johnny, young and
self-confident, and with a lot to learn, was certain that he could beat
the fugitive on the draw.
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