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Page THE KEY WEST CITIZEN Saturday, September 6, 1952 BARNEY GOOGLE AND SNUFFY SMITH BUST MAH BRITCHES !! DURN YORE GOOD-FER-NOTHIN' HIDE, YE WUTHLESS VARMINT !! HOW ABOUT SAVIN’ SOME OF THAT MOUNTAIN TALK BRINGING UP FATHER [7 AN’ TO THINK ONLY YESTERDAY | I ASKED HIM TO HELP ME AN! TAKIN'ALL laeed || ( THAT IRON wit 4m > By Fred Lasswell THAT CORNPONE” CHATTER REALLY FLIPS MY LID, gaat SNUFFY OH! DON'T BE SO SELFISH! WHAT HARM IS me TALK NEWNITED STATES, YE SHIF'LESS SKONK! ONDERSTAND a YOR ae aX) it Nig Bae MONTANA'S trembling legs Seemed to give way all of a sudden, He fell on the grass and lay there panting, too weak to move. “I. . . I’ve just killed Run- Jim Thornton didn’t answer and Montana looked at his father, The older man sat like a wooden statue, eyes staring at the ground in front of him. “I can’t get over it, Brand,” he finally said. “Belle walked straight to me. She didn’t say a word, Brand—not till she came up and put both arms around my neck. Then she said, ‘No matter what you've done, Dad, you're still my father and I still love you and I always will.’ And I had to tell her the rest of it—about you.” It had begun to quiet down over there at Buckner’s. The shouted oaths had subsided and Montana guessed that Buckner and the others were out on foot, tryii to haze one or two of the gentler horses back into the corral to use them in rounding up the others. “So Belle knows about me?” | are. Montana asked, musingly, his eyes, too, looking out into the night. “She knows—that you're both own kids, She took it for a minute and then broke down com- pletely.” Montana changed the subject. “Did they get away all right? His father nodded. “I told Ben Carson to go where you'd said. Up to that place where he took rou. before, under Horse Thief eak. It’s not too far from here and they ought to make it in a few hours. They’d better, because the trader is about done in.” Montana got to his own feet as the older man wearily mounted. “Where are you going?” he asked ly. ck,” his father said. “Back to the ranch. I built that ranch and I want to die on it. Black Jack is no fool. He’ll swoop in by day- light at the latest and take over with part of his men while the others go after Ben Carson and Austin and the girls, I want to be ing| headin’ back and Belle backed BY WILLIAM .HOP$ON right there waitin; Ld them, no vasa ge ee aa i “In that case I’ jo ng with you,” Montana ca D‘Y was Beenning to break when thay reached the ranch. There were other animals in the corral, and something about one of them, sweaty and blanket- marked, brought Montana uj sharp. He saw another and a third. Somebody had beaten them to the ranch! Boots crunched and Austin’s voice said casually, “The girls are in the house. Kinda tuckered out, poor kids.” : “What the devil are you doing here?” rapped out Montana, “Wh; didn’t you hit the breeze south? It was too dark to see the Tex- an’s grin, but the grin was there. “Well, I reckon I’m working for Miss Forrest now, and that girl has got a lot of set ways, for an Easterner. She said she was her up. Ben was plumb out in the saddle anyhow—had to half-carry him in front of me. So here we “And Belle figured Pd back?” asked Jim Thornton. “Something like that, I reckon. And she also kinda thought that if this new brother of hers got out alive he might be traipsin’ along. Purty good erin’, I'd say. You- all must be about tuckered out. Better,get some sleep. I'll stand guard until morning.’ Dawn broke at last and the sun came up over the basin in which the big house rested against the west rim. Some life began to stir on the ranch, Four men woke up, glanced curiously at the sleeping stranger in a corner, and went: out to wash up. | There wasn’t a horse in sight in the main corral, All had been put into the big barn. Austin had seen to that. He sat on a bench, his back against the bunk house wall, a Winchester cradled across his lap, He hadn’t spoken to the others nor eaten breakfast. Now his eyes, turning always toward the cut in the south end of the basin a mile or so away, squinted as movement was visible and rid- 12c per line for one day HELL'S HORSEMAN ers took shape. Austin ediages the repeater to his other arm turned, sticking his head inside the door. “Here they come,” he an- nounced, calm-eyed. A buzz of excitement rose among the old men. They came to the door, saw the nine or ten riders, and exchanged glances, “It’s not yore fight, I reckon.” Austin said. “I kinda hate to leave.” one of the oldsters said. “But, as you say, it ain’t our fight.” It didn’t seem to be an acci- dent that their warbags were packed, nor that, down in a smaller branding corral, four horses stood penned by them- selves. They moved out, those four men, and the Texan rose, goi inside. He went to the bunk an shook Montana. “They’re coming through the cut,” he said. Mon- tana came alive, sitting upright. He too was calm-eyed despite his heavy sleep. : “Found our trail?” “Maybe. I kept to the ereck bed as much as possible when we circled. Maybe they're just comin’ in to take over. I woke up Ben a half-hour ago, in the house.” “Tl be right out,” Montana said, Out in the basin the riders came on. ‘They were halfway to the house when four men, unarmed, rode out, almost as if to meet them, The oldsters swung wide and the two groups cautiously passed each other two hundred yards apart. Raucous laughter floated from the larger group now the ranch. They rede wf nore the lower corrals, into a lane formed by the corrals ard a blacksmith shop and several sheds on the opposite side, At the bunk house two of the riders swung down and peered inside, guns in hand. Then they let out a whoop and shoved the weapons back into leather, and that seemed to be the signal for a wild scramble amorig the others for preferred bunks. “They're gone!” yelled a voice, almost hilariously. “All pulled stakes and the place is ourn.” (Zo be continued) Tle per line for three days Wc per line for six days 9c per line for twelve days 8c per line for twenty-four days Minimum of 3 fines per insertion Ig7 DARLING, 1M WORRIED! ei LL SIMPLY DIE | IN'T é st’) BAG FOR You, WIN Lisi BEAUTY CONTE wthdape tigate Bee THE PRETTIEST RY GIRL IN THE TOO BAD You'Re NOT ONE OF THE JUDGES /~ WINNING THE CONTEST— MEANS EVERYTHING !N THE WORLD TO ME !~ FAME ~ MAYBE A BID TO ao b iy Weave Her TO 4a IT'S INTHE caaeeiee eTe et Nel Wastet— Women HOUSEWORKER WE'RE HIRING YOu LL Your RANCH IS GONG TO AND YOUR FAT WAIT THEY'LL WORK, WE'LL ALL WORK! WORTHLESS ONES TO THE ‘mall white fussy Anewers @ the name Curley pity 2607 mat S22 Man Page @