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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78442 ***
+
+                             MOUNTAIN MEN
+
+                         By Eugene Cunningham
+
+
+
+
+                       CHAPTER I. POACHER’S LUCK.
+
+
+“The squeezin’est man in Lincoln County!” snarled “Bud” Ranger to
+himself.
+
+He peered downhill between slim oak saplings, through the spaced trunks
+of great pines and junipers and mountain ash to the canyon floor. There
+the little Ruidoso split a smooth, green level--exactly as if a polished
+bowie knife lay across a billiard table.
+
+“The squeezin’est man!” Bud repeated, aloud, with “Old Ben” Lingo’s
+still, red face in mind.
+
+Then, in a sudden burst of fury born of every petty irritation, all the
+troubles, caused by the brand-new Lingo-Ranger feud, Bud forgot his need
+for caution--here on Lingo’s Ranch, hunting unlawfully in the dawning.
+He spat out his opinion of Old Ben, of “Red Ike” Ranger, his own father;
+of the plain orneriness of the two together.
+
+“Bud!” came “Brother” Ranger’s anxious whisper from behind him. “You
+tryin’ to raise the country or somethin’? They could hear you in
+Roswell! Anyway, quit talkin’ through your hat. You’re sayin’ a lot
+o’ things you don’t mean.
+
+“You’re sore, ’cause this feud has split up the families an’ you can’t
+see Sudie May. You know blame’ well Ben Lingo ain’t half so bad as he’s
+painted. Ben wants what’s due him an’ a little interest--an’ he gets it!
+An’ the reason folks talk against him is because they’re like pa--plumb
+jealous of a rich man!”
+
+Bud shrugged his shoulders impatiently, squatting on heels, a slender,
+muscular statue, with keen, aggressive brown face outthrust. With Savage
+.250-3000 across his knees, ancient gray Stetson pushed back upon his
+flaming hair, he stared with narrowed blue eyes up and down the canyon,
+alert for sight of Lingo cowhands.
+
+“Nobody in sight. Reckon we can cross over,” he growled finally.
+
+But he made no move to go down the slope. Instead, he stared at the
+green canyon bottom, starred with daisies. He knew it all so well!
+Upon the trail along the little river, he and Sudie May Lingo had
+ridden stirrup to stirrup since they were kids.
+
+There was Deep Hole, below Monument Rock, where many and many a time
+they had whipped rainbows from water to frying pan, almost. Sudie
+May--there wasn’t a girl in Lincoln County--in all New Mexico--fit to
+be mentioned in the same breath with her, to Bud Ranger’s notion. And
+now Red Ike, his father, had had to fall out with her father over some
+petty money matter. Beaten in a trade, he was furious and had promised
+to shoot Ben Lingo on sight.
+
+Behind Bud, Brother waited sympathetically. Before the dawn, they had
+come across the hills from the poverty-stricken little Ranger Ranch
+against the Mescalero Reservation fence. Crouched on the ridge above
+the Ruidoso’s canyon, they had watched Ben Lingo and some Easterner
+mounting in the dooryard. Like Bud, Brother had seen Sudie May’s pink
+dress flashing past the door and he could guess the bitterness that
+filled Bud now.
+
+“Goin’?” he inquired softly.
+
+He moved slightly to ease the cramp in a thigh--and forgot, abruptly, to
+sympathize with Bud. For the carpet of pine needles and dry oak leaves
+beneath him shot forward. As on a toboggan he slid downhill with his old
+Winchester waving. Came a crash from beyond the boulder on Bud’s right.
+They had reached the thicket noiselessly, being woodsmen as much as
+cow-punchers; the buck springing up was only now alarmed.
+
+Bud’s Savage flicked up. There were two swishing sounds, almost
+together, as he pressed trigger twice. The buck staggered, came to
+his knees, then somersaulted and went stumbling down the steep
+slope--fifty, seventy-five yards, until the carcass was stopped by a
+juniper trunk.
+
+Bud grinned boyishly:
+
+“_There’s_ Aunt Sary’s beef for you! Told you! If pa can’t afford to
+butcher a steer for her, I can get meat for the kids as long’s I’ve
+got a gun. This one shore shoots where you hold it, Brother!”
+
+Brother’s reply was a groan of agony. Bud’s blue eyes came flushing
+round again. He had a glimpse of Brother’s head and shoulders. The head
+rocked as he stared; Brother’s face showed like a sheet of paper against
+the greenery. Bud sprang up with an oath and scrambled downhill.
+
+“Foot----” breathed Brother, between hard-clenched teeth. “Blame’
+thing’s jammed--into some rocks! Gosh!” Then he fainted.
+
+Frantically, Bud dived into the thicket and with his big pocketknife
+began to hack away the branches about his brother’s feet. The sight
+of Brother’s predicament nearly turned Bud’s healthy stomach. For his
+left leg--sickeningly twisted--was jammed between two big boulders.
+
+Desperately, he heaved at the massive rocks, but they were fragments of
+the mountain, seemingly as immovable as the hills themselves. Gently,
+then, he caught hold of Brother’s thigh and tugged. But the only result
+was a groan wrung from the prisoner, who returned to consciousness only
+to faint again.
+
+Bud studied the crevice into which the leg was jammed like wedge into
+axe head. Tentatively he chipped at the edges. It _could_ be cut, but
+slowly--all too slowly! He needed a pick or crowbar. But it was ten
+miles back to their house and this was enemy country. Ben Lingo’s was
+the nearest house and--there in plain sight on the slope below them
+was the deer, evidence to damn them.
+
+If the Ranger boys were caught and brought before their father’s enemy,
+Justice of the Peace Ben Lingo--well, they would shortly occupy a jail
+cell, Bud decided grimly. For himself, he did not care so much, but he
+knew that his mother would be heartbroken at the disgrace falling upon
+Brother, her baby.
+
+“I’m goin’ to steal me a crowbar out o’ Ben Lingo’s tool house!” Bud
+said grimly to himself. “But first--got to get that buck out o’ sight.
+Somebody might come up the canyon----”
+
+There was a tiny sound from somewhere up the hill. Bud glared fiercely,
+but it was not repeated. After a moment, he lowered the Savage--a
+steer, maybe. But still, he wondered. Then he shrugged. No time to go
+investigating now.
+
+He moved swiftly downhill to where the buck lay against the tree. He
+could butcher it in a thicket and hang it up until there was opportunity
+to come back and carry it to their poor relation, his father’s sister
+Sary. Bud stuck his knife point into the jugular.
+
+From behind a boulder a gray flannel-clad arm came stealthily. A strong,
+brown hand closed upon the Savage and lifted it noiselessly, while Bud
+worked away all unaware. Then a lean youngster in Stetson to match Bud’s
+own, in overalls jammed hit or miss into high-heeled boots, rose like a
+cat. Bud’s ear caught the tiny sound the man made; he whirled, his hand
+raking the pine needles where the Savage had been.
+
+“It’s gone,” the other remarked in a conversational drawl. “I figgered
+you might make some break like that.”
+
+On his haunches, Bud glared up at the other. He was a stranger, but on
+the buttonless vest was a shiny badge--a deputy sheriff. Imperceptibly,
+Bud’s wiry muscles tightened. He was like a rattler coiling. But before
+he could launch himself at the deputy’s throat, the youngster had made
+a twinkling motion; a long, blued Colt appeared in his hand, the muzzle
+pointing at Bud’s chest.
+
+“Answer is--don’t try it! For a fella couldn’t miss, this close!”
+
+Bud’s lips curled back in a snarl of impotent fury. He was caught
+red-handed--literally, just that, for his hands were covered with
+the buck’s blood. He considered flashingly. Here was help. This
+fellow could give him a hand to release Brother. But that would mean
+that Brother would be a prisoner, too. Yet, if he said nothing of
+his brother’s presence, that would leave the boy imprisoned until he
+could come back--which might not be at all soon.
+
+“These Maxim silencers are quite some contraptions, now, ain’t they?”
+grinned the deputy. He was examining the Savage expertly. “But you
+hadn’t ought to go shootin’ deer right over a surveyor’s head, fella.
+Bothers him, when he’s busy like I was. Why, that dam’ buck mighty
+nigh sat down in my lap. Well--pick her up an’ let’s hightail it.”
+
+“Where to?” But Bud knew well enough that it was to Ben Lingo’s. He
+was merely sparring for time, hoping for the chance to come to grips
+with this efficient-seeming youngster. Bud felt that he might settle
+him.
+
+“Why, down to Lingo’s. He’s the only justice o’ the peace _I_ know of
+around here. Would you rather give somebody else your trade?”
+
+Bud stood up, looking vaguely about him. Brother was not in view. If he
+could only knock that staring pistol muzzle down and make it a battle of
+fist and skill----
+
+The deputy watched quietly, still with his little mocking smile:
+“Reckon you won’t!” he said after an instant. “I used to be in the
+Texas Rangers, fella, before they cut down the force. I’ve handled
+quite a corralful o’ bad hombres an’--none o’ the outfit ever got
+away. I don’t aim to have you nominate yourself No. 1. Rattle your
+hocks!”
+
+
+
+
+                      CHAPTER II. BROUGHT TO TRIAL.
+
+
+There was a snap to his voice now that jerked Bud into obedience.
+Sullenly, he shouldered the buck and they moved down the slope to the
+trail along the river. Turning stealthily once or twice, Bud found the
+deputy’s Colt muzzle covering him almost as if it possessed a mind of
+its own, no matter how the deputy seemed to stare. In Bud there began
+to grow a very real respect for this lean, brown ex-Ranger. He was
+such a one as Bud himself.
+
+Moving leisurely, because of Bud’s burden and the deputy’s high-heeled
+boots, they came after a couple of miles to the dooryard of Ben Lingo’s
+ranch house--and not once had Bud glimpsed the slightest chance of
+escape.
+
+As he let the buck slip to the ground, for an instant Bud saw--framed in
+a window--Sudie May’s white face, the hazel eyes widened as she stared.
+Then it vanished and in the doorway appeared Mrs. Lingo. Her beady old
+eyes gleamed malevolently at sight of Bud and the deer.
+
+“Well!” she cackled. “If ’tain’t that Bud Ranger! Never heard, I reckon,
+about Herefords havin’ white faces. Just got all mixed up an’----”
+
+Suddenly she whirled upon the silent deputy:
+
+“Where’s Brother? Brother Ranger? Didn’t you get him, too? Oh, you dumb
+nitwit! You missed this fellow’s brother? Why, they trail together all
+time. Any idiot’d have known that! You just wait, Mr. Hawkins; the
+judge’ll have a few things to say to you. You----”
+
+“Excuse _me_, Mis’ Lingo!” the deputy interrupted her stiffly, with
+lean cheeks reddening. “If the judge has got anything at all to say
+to me, he can shore say it. Anybody can say anything they want to
+say. I’ll listen. O’ course, if I don’t like it----”
+
+“Somebody lookin’ fer me?” came a level, drawling voice from the house
+behind Mrs. Lingo.
+
+“It’s that Bud Ranger!” shrilled Mrs. Lingo, whirling upon Old Ben.
+“I thought you was still up the hill. Bud killed a buck this mornin’
+an’ Hawkins catched him--somehow. But he never catched Brother! I
+told him----”
+
+“Excuse _me_, Mis’ Lingo!” Hawkins interrupted her once more. “It’s sort
+o’ more officiallike if a peace officer makes his own report. Keeps the
+record a lot straighter, too, lots o’ times----”
+
+“We’ll look into the business, Sally, don’t you worry!”
+
+There was no change in Ben Lingo’s broad, red face as he turned small,
+round blue eyes upon Bud Ranger.
+
+“We just come in over the back trail,” he explained to Hawkins. “Bring
+the prisoner into the front room, will you? We’ll hold court there.”
+
+With face grim-set, Bud preceded the deputy into the familiar
+room--where in the days before the feud he and Sudie May had sat so
+many, many times. As if his thought of the girl were infectious
+that----
+
+“Where’s Sudie May, Sally?” inquired Ben Lingo. “No, no! Needn’t mind
+huntin’ her. I got somethin’ to tell her, that’s all. Find her after
+while.”
+
+He rolled out, was gone for perhaps five minutes. By his bearing--which
+was all that one might ever judge by--he was thoughtful when he returned
+to the “court room.” Bud shot at him a half-curious, half-defiant stare.
+Then the _clip-clop_ of shod hoofs in the dooryard drew Bud’s eyes
+mechanically to the front window. He stiffened, where he sat upon the
+piano bench.
+
+Past the window rode Sudie May on her black pony--the very pony which
+Bud had gentled for her a year before, taking vast pride in his work,
+putting into the taming of the little black outlaw all that he knew of
+horse-breaking.
+
+Nor rode the girl alone, now. Her companion--if Bud might trust his
+brief view of the man--was none other than the too-smooth-tongued,
+too-handsome, “Slim” Thorne, Ben Lingo’s foreman. Bud had cut him out
+a year ago. Sudie May had promised faithfully, months before, that she
+would never be alone with him again. It _might_ have been one of the
+punchers, but Bud had no illusions. He thought he knew Slim Thorne’s
+gaudy silk shirt, his Stetson, entirely too well.
+
+Sudie May was headed upriver, pushing the black pony to a swift jog
+trot. Her expression, from the one brief glimpse Bud had had of it,
+appeared by no means so troubled or sad. It should have been, with
+him sitting there in her father’s courtroom, waiting to be convicted
+and slammed the limit. It seemed to Bud that her face had been oddly
+intent, as she stared straight ahead--at Slim Thorne.
+
+Bud swore viciously under his breath. There was no light in the
+brilliant sunshine. There was a bad taste in his mouth, as in other
+days when he had tanked up on Bart Black’s bootleg. The days before
+Sudie May had straightened him out, waked ambition and hope in him,
+with the simple declaration that she cared--cared enough to marry
+him.
+
+Sullenly, he turned back to face the room like a trapped animal. He was
+ready for anything, however desperate. Ready to snatch Hawkins’ long,
+blue six-gun and start hell popping there in the quiet room. Entered
+now that portly Easterner whom Bud had marked in the Lingo dooryard, as
+he and Brother crouched on the ridge above the Ruidoso’s canyon.
+
+He was a flabby-bodied, pig-eyed “foreigner” in blue-serge coat,
+gaberdine riding breeches, and shiny tan boots with ridiculous little
+brass spurs. He was fat-faced, too, this foreigner, and he had an
+arrogant trick of thrusting out his swollen chin as if in contempt of
+the whole world. Instinctively, Bud hated him. He found a savage
+pleasure in wondering just how far his hard, bony fist would sink
+into that jellylike paunch.
+
+“What’s this? What’s this, Lingo?” boomed the foreigner, with that
+note in his voice that told his expectation--certainty, rather--of a
+quick, respectful answer. “Holding court, eh? Well, well! What’s the
+charge? Who’s this--ah--character?”
+
+“Just a plain violation o’ the game laws, Mr. Carter,” Ben Lingo
+explained in his level, emotionless drawl. “Hawkins, here--you know
+Hawkins--is surveyin’ the lines in that west section I’m sellin’ you.
+He caught this boy a-butcherin’ a buck----”
+
+“Butchering a buck! On _my_ land!” Ferociously, Carter whirled upon Bud,
+who returned his glare with pawnbroker’s interest. “The rascal! He looks
+a tough customer, all right! Killing my deer. Why----”
+
+Somehow, he managed to make it clear that his ownership of the land made
+the offense far more serious than it could possibly have been otherwise.
+
+“_Your_ deer!” snarled Bud, jerked from the silence he had intended to
+maintain. “Who the hell gave ’em to you? Your deer! Suppose you figure
+to round ’em up ever’ spring an’ brand ’em? Ah, the devil!”
+
+“Order in the court! Order in the court!” Ben Lingo rapped with his
+knuckles upon the center table. “Order in the court!”
+
+His red face was without change; he looked neither at Bud nor the
+foreigner, but instead stared blankly at the white-washed adobe wall.
+But there was a telltale twitching of the throat muscles. Bud began to
+wonder just how popular this Carter might be, on the Lingo Ranch.
+
+
+
+
+                      CHAPTER III. MOUNTAIN JUSTICE.
+
+
+“_Oyez! Oyez! Oyez!_” droned the judge. “I hereby declare this justice
+court open. Hawkins, state your case against the prisoner.”
+
+“Well, suh, I was runnin’ a line two mile west o’ here. Heard two sort
+o’ _swishes_! From uphill. Knowed ’em to be gunshots muffled by a
+silencer. Looked up an’--here comes a fat buck just a-swappin’ ends,
+straight at me! I squatted down in the bushes an’ waited an’ purty soon
+along come this fella an’ begun butcherin’ the buck. So I gethered him
+in an’--here he is an’ yonder’s the buck. Reckon it’d be better off in
+the ice house, judge, pendin’ settlement o’ the case.”
+
+“Not much settling needed!” snapped Carter, authoritatively. “Killing
+game out of season, on my land! Too bad the old venery laws don’t hold
+nowadays. By George! They hung riff-raff like this, in England and
+France, not so long ago!”
+
+“Shore did!” nodded Hawkins, the deputy, blandly. “_I_ read about that
+in my li’l’ red school books, too. All it took to hang a commoner was
+just the testimony o’ some--uh--_noble_. Funny old times, wasn’t they?
+Funny how lots o’ names, to-day, show just about where our
+great-great-grandfathers stood in the world.
+
+“Take the name ‘Bowyer,’ just for instance: nowadays, it’s just
+anybody’s name. But them times, it was the name o’ fellas that made
+bows. ‘Carter,’ too--that was a pore devil that drove a cart for some
+rich man----”
+
+“Look here!” snarled Carter, his heavy jowls empurpling like an irate
+turkey gobbler’s, Bud thought amusedly. “Are you insinuating----”
+
+“Suh,” interrupted Hawkins, very softly, but with a steel-blue eye hard
+upon the foreigner, “I never insinuate anything. I just don’t do such. I
+speak my piece right out in meetin’ for the good o’ the congregation’s
+soul.”
+
+“Order in the court! Order in the court!” droned Ben Lingo, staring hard
+at the wall again, with that telltale twitch of the throat muscles.
+“Well, Bud? Anything to say for yourself?”
+
+Bud stared stonily straight ahead. Lot of use to say anything in this
+court! With the judge his father’s bitter enemy, his verdict was sure
+enough. But, in addition, this fellow Carter would be satisfied with
+nothing less than the harshest penalty of the law, and Ben Lingo,
+wanting to unload a section of mountain land upon the foreigner,
+couldn’t afford to cross him.
+
+“Let’s see that Savage, Hawkins,” commanded the judge, when Bud made
+no reply. “H’mm--mighty purty gun. This silencer gadget is shore keen.
+Well, Bud, there’s a mighty foul barrel, here--what about it?”
+
+“Nothin’ to say!” snarled Bud. “I ain’t admittin’ an’ likewise I ain’t
+denyin’ a thing. But I’m remindin’ you that this fella never saw me kill
+that buck. For all he knows, I might just’ve heard the shots, same as he
+did, an’ come down just to grab the meat for Aunt--just to grab the
+meat.”
+
+“Yep,” nodded the judge, without change of expression. “Yep.”
+
+Hawkins grinned at Bud, entirely without malice. Carter snorted.
+
+“Likely lie, isn’t it?” he snapped. “I think we aren’t to be taken in by
+it, Lingo. He’s guilty as hell!”
+
+“It’s the best judgment o’ this court that you killed that buck, Bud,”
+droned Lingo. “With a rifle like this here, you sure wouldn’t miss.
+Lincoln County knows you ain’t much on missin’, anyhow. Shootin’ an’
+horse bustin’ are the two things nobody in this neighborhood can touch
+you at.
+
+“No--you wouldn’t be over here, packin’ a high-powered rifle with a
+silencer, except to kill a deer--unless ’t was to take a shot at me,
+mebbe?”
+
+He stared very straight and hard at Bud.
+
+“Listen! Any time _I_ take a shot at you, it’ll be fair an’ square!”
+cried Bud hotly. “It’ll be in the open. Anyhow, you an’ me got no row,
+Ben Lingo--not yet!”
+
+“Then ’t was the buck you was after,” nodded Lingo. “H’mm--it’s this
+court’s judgment that you’re guilty as charged. The lawr says the first
+offense shall be punished by a fine o’ fifty dollars or by appropriate
+term o’ imprisonment. Take charge o’ the prisoner, Hawkins. Take the
+deer to my ice house, too. Lawr says it has got to be destroyed or give
+to the pore. I reckon we can find some pore family that’ll be glad to
+have it----”
+
+Inquiringly, he looked at Carter, who nodded vigorous approval of the
+heavy fine.
+
+Bud was white-faced. He was going to jail. No Ranger had ever known
+that shame. He had always known, of course--for this was by no means
+the first, or the tenth, buck he had killed out of season--that “the
+lawr” provided fine or jail term for violation. But when old Bart
+Black was deputy game warden, he had more than once loaned Bud a
+horse to pack home venison; had himself taken each time a quarter of
+the kill.
+
+Game laws were hardly considered by these mountain men, descendants
+of the independent pioneers who had tamed the hills. A deer was to
+them, as it had been to their grandfathers, _meat_ and that was all.
+When the deer fed upon their pastures, it was pretty hard lines if a
+fellow couldn’t kill one, occasionally.
+
+To make matters worse for Bud, there was Brother, still imprisoned on
+the mountain. No chance to get away from this efficient ex-Ranger
+lounging behind him, to release Brother. No--there was nothing to do,
+now, but throw himself and Brother into the enemy’s hands; to tell of
+Brother’s predicament. That meant two of them going down to jail.
+
+Bud glared at Ben Lingo. The slick old devil! Sitting up there holding
+that fat face of his straight as a preacher’s--just as if he weren’t
+tickled stiff at this chance to hit Red Ike Ranger through his son.
+
+“Couple of months in the cooler is just what he needs!” Carter said
+emphatically. “I tell you, Lingo, civilization is certainly coming to
+this section! I intend to show these people that I, for one, don’t
+mean to tolerate their wild western ways for one minute. I----”
+
+“Judge Lingo!” Bud interrupted the lecture with a cold-toned call.
+“’Tain’t in the deal that I have to be talked to death, is it? An’ if
+we can get out o’ this wind a minute, or stop it, or somethin’, I got
+to tell you that----”
+
+“Lots o’ time, Bud! Lots o’ time!” interrupted Lingo, impatiently.
+“Talk to you after a while. Take him outside, Hawkins, will you? Now,
+Mr. Carter, about them deeds----Will you get the papers out o’ your
+room, ready for us to go over?”
+
+Carter, after a wrathful glare at Bud, nodded and went out. Ben Lingo
+came waddling outside, to where Hawkins stood easily alert and not too
+close to Bud’s clenching and unclenching fists.
+
+“Brother----” Bud began again.
+
+“Ne’ mind! I’ll do a little talkin’, before you start!” grunted Ben
+Lingo. “Now, you’re owin’ the State an’ this here justice court the
+sum o’ fifty dollars. Got it?”
+
+“Got nothin’ but the rifle, here. But that’s worth more’n the whole
+fine.”
+
+“Don’t want the rifle. H’mm--well, looks like you got to work the fine
+out, Bud. H’mm. It’s jail, or else---- You want to bust some horses for
+me? Five dollars a day till the twenty-five’s worked out?”
+
+“Twenty-five?” repeated Bud, stupidly. “What d’you mean? The fine was
+fifty.”
+
+“Why, as justice, I take half the fine for my fee. I don’t have to
+collect it unless I want to an’--I don’t want to, off’n you, Bud.
+Five dollars a day, until the twenty-five dollars are worked out an’
+then----
+
+“If you ain’t takin’ your pa’s war talk too serious--he’ll ca’m down
+after a spell--how about sixty-five a month an’ house an’ board, as
+my foreman? You see, Bud, it’s like this: I had to let Slim Thorne
+go. Sudie May, she never liked him an’ he was no hand with horses.
+Besides, he was beginnin’ to hit the old red-eye too frequent. So
+Slim, he went down Roswell way, day before yeste’day----”
+
+Bud gaped at the still, red face, the twinkling little blue eyes: “Well,
+I--well, if you really mean it, I--I shore live up your street, judge!
+But now, I got to get upriver, hellbent! Brother is----”
+
+“First thing you do is to get you a horse out o’ my corral an’ ride
+up toward Monument Rock. You see, Bud, I was on the ridge above
+there, this mornin’. Seemed to me like there’d been somebody--well,
+trespassin’. I’m so blame’ fat, these days, I made a noise slippin’
+in the bushes, I reckon. Anyhow, you look into it, Bud. I told Sudie
+May an’ Rod Kendall to ride up that a-way, a while ago, to see about
+it. If you should happen onto ’em----”
+
+He turned and waddled hurriedly back to the house. Bud was racing toward
+the log corral when Ben Lingo’s hail halted him. The fat figure was
+framed in the doorway, like a great, benignant Buddha:
+
+“Hey, Bud! About that deer--lawr says it has got to go to some pore
+family. Try to be thinkin’ o’ somebody as really needs it, will you,
+Bud?
+
+“An’ say, Bud! If--if you should happen to stumble onto Sudie May an’
+Rod Kendall, why, tell Rod I want that he should hightail it back here
+_right now_, will you, huh?”
+
+
+[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the May 5, 1928 issue
+of Top-Notch magazine.]
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78442 ***