Edgar Rice Burroughs

The Bandit of Hell's Bend Edgar Rice Burroughs

No better yarn of the old cattle days can be found in current fiction. Tense dramatic situations; unforgettable characters presented with incomparable skill; the humor and repartee of the "boys," and over all the glamor and romance of the old west. A HALF-dozen men sprawled comfortably in back-tilted chairs against the side of the Bar Y bunk-house at the home ranch. They were young men, lithe of limb, tanned of face and clear of eye. Their skins shone from recent ablutions and their slicked hair was still damp, for they had but just come from the evening meal, and meals at the home ranch required a toilet. One of them was singing."In the shade of a tree we two sat, him an' me, Where the Haegler Hills slope to the Raft While our ponies browsed 'round, reins a-draggin' the ground; Then he looks at me funny an' laft.""Most anyone would," interrupted a listener."Shut up," admonished another, "I ain't only heered this three hundred an' sixty-five times in the las' year.