CHAPTER 11A COUPLE OF CROOKS
Cattle towns waken early, and there was already a stir of life in the town of Holy Creek when a small boy rode a scampering mustang through the streets, in the rose of the morning.
He was shouting at the very top of his lungs, “Turn out! Turn out!—Barry Litton’s at it again! Turn out! Barry Litton’s putting on another show!—Hey! Barry Litton’s coming again.”
That small, sharp voice, far-reaching as the crowing of a rooster, cut into the sleep of many a man and many a woman and child, and jerked them all from their beds.
It was Jimmy Raeburn who had raised the town. Sleep had not come to him during the night after he had discovered that Blue Barry, Willow, and the Dead Man Steer had all disappeared. The first gray of the morning had roused him before the chi
