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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"Bob Hampton of Placer"

Thus far the feud merely smouldered, finding
occasional expression in sarcastic speech, and the severance of former
friendly relations, but it boded more serious trouble for the near
future. To a loyal henchman, Moffat merely condescended to remark,
glancing disdainfully at a knot of hard riders disconsolately sitting
their ponies in front of the saloon door, "We 've got them fellers
roped and tied, gents, and they simply won't be ace-high with the
ladies of this camp after our fandango is over with. We're a holdin'
the hand this game, an' it simply sweeps the board clean. That duffer
McNeil's the sickest looking duck I 've seen in a year, an' the whole
blame bunch of cow-punchers is corralled so tight there can't a steer
among 'em get a nose over the pickets."
He glanced over the waiting scene of festivities with intense
satisfaction. From bare squalor the spacious apartment had been
converted into a scene of almost gorgeous splendor. The waxed floor
was a perfect marvel of smoothness; the numerous windows had been
heavily draped in red, white, and blue hangings; festoons of the same
rich hues hung gracefully suspended from the ceiling, trembling to the
least current of air; oil lamps, upheld by almost invisible wires,
dangled in profusion; while within the far corner, occupying a slightly
raised platform later to be utilized by the orchestra, was an imposing
pulpit chair lent by the Presbyterian Church, resting upon a rug of
skins, and destined as the seat of honor for the fair guest of the
evening.


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