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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"Bob Hampton of Placer"

I 'm
one o' Terry's scouts."
"Ye are? Jist the same--I've heard--yer voice--afore."
"Likely 'nough. I saw service in the Seventh."
Murphy was still a trifle suspicious. "How'd ye git yere? How 'd ye
come ter know--whar I wus?"
The man laughed again. "Sorter hurts yer perfessional feelins, don't
it, old feller, to be dropped in on in this unceremonious way? But it
was dead easy, old man. Ye see I happened thro' Cheyenne only a couple
o' hours behind ye, with a bunch o' papers fer the Yellowstone. The
trail's plain enough out this far, and I loped 'long at a pretty fair
hickory, so thet I was up on the bluff yonder, and saw ye go into camp
yere just afore dark. You wus a-keepin' yer eyes skinned across the
Fourche, and naturally didn't expect no callers from them hills behind.
The rest wus nuthin', an' here I am. It's a darn sight pleasanter ter
hev company travellin', ter my notion. Now kin I cum on?"
Murphy reluctantly lowered his Colt, every movement betraying
annoyance. "I reckon. But I 'd--a damn sight--rather risk it--alone."
The stranger came forward without further hesitation.


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