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by Clarence Mulford
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"If you liked Louis L'Amour's Hopalong Cassidy novel The Rustlers of West Fork--you'll love this one! This is the real thing!"--Jackson Cain, author of Hellbreak Country
"Keep your hands where I can see them!" Marshall Edwards has shouted at the outlaws across the bar. "The first man I see move, I'll drop."But he couldn't see everything. He couldn't see the outlaws behind him or the bullet he took in the back.But Hoppy would see them--every single one of them. you could count on it. he would hunt them down if it took him the rest of his life. He would find the man who killed his friend.Hoppy would see they paid.
Slivers Lowe leaped up from his chair. "Yo're right, Harper! Dead right! I was a little cattle owner onct, so was you, an' Jerry, an' most of us!" Slivers found it convenient to forget that fully half of his small herd had perished in the bitter and long winter of five years before, and that the remainder had either flowed down his parched throat or been lost across the big round table near the bar. Not a few of his cows were banked in the east under Harlan's name.
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