With Gun ? Rod in Canada 



THE NINE-MILE HOLD-UP 



CHAPTER i. 



"Well, pard, you're no tenderfoot if you have got a 

 college education, and I guess we'll put her through." 



" It cost me all I had, but it's bound to work, Butch," 

 said Mat, as he thoughtfully twirled his six-shooter and 

 viciously snapped it on the empty chamber. 



" Looks like it," said Butch. 



" Well, all our cash is gone now, and we need it," 

 concluded Mat, decidedly. 



"That's right too. Better hit the trail. It's near 

 sun-up," said Butch, and both men moved quickly 

 towards the picketed horses. 



The two speakers were breaking camp on the bank 

 of a small creek among the sandy buttes of the Bad Lands 

 in western Colorado. It was in the year 1900. " Butch '' 

 was a little below the medium height, young, strongly 

 built, black hair, and long moustache. His piercing 

 black eyes had a gun-like glint to them, with a slight 

 suggestion of grim humour. His face was tanned by 

 years of mountain riding. 



" Mat " was a broad-shouldered young man, taller 

 than Butch, and well proportioned. There was a three 

 days' growth of beard on his square jaws, as also the 

 remains of an old tan, that betokened months or perhaps 

 years of exposure, but recent environment in civilization. 

 He moved like an athlete and sat his horse like a cow- 

 puncher. 



Both men were equipped with regulation cowboy 

 outfits that certainly had seen hard usage. They carried 

 six-guns on their thighs and Winchesters beneath their 

 saddle-flaps. 



They mounted and trotted off to the west, Butch 



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