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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"Bob Hampton of Placer"

So I decided to sit up in front
of the tent on watch. Along about midnight, I suppose, I dropped off
into a doze, for the first thing I heard was the hee-haw of a mule
right in my ear. It sounded like a clap of thunder, and I jumped up,
coming slap-bang against the brute's nose so blamed hard it knocked me
flat; and then, when I fairly got my eyes open, I saw five Sioux
Indians creeping along through the moonlight, heading right toward our
pony herd. I tell you things looked mighty skittish for me just then,
but what do you suppose I did with 'em?"
"Eh--eat 'em, likely," suggested McNeil, thoughtfully, "fried with
plenty of--eh--salt; heard they were--eh--good that way."
Mr. Moffat half rose to his feet.
"You damn--"
"O Mr. McNeil, how perfectly ridiculous!" chimed in Miss Spencer.
"Please do go on, Mr. Moffat; it is so exceedingly interesting."
The incensed narrator sank reluctantly back into his seat, his eyes yet
glowing angrily. "Well, I crept carefully along a little gully until I
got where them Indians were just exactly opposite me in a direct line.
I had an awful heavy gun, carrying a slug of lead near as big as your
fist.


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