The Flying Outlaw

Our story, the flying outlaw. There was a crisp autumn feel in the air when they left the bar 20 some days before and headed north through the valleys. With the range grass beginning to turn brown, the flocks of cranes and wild geese, straightened black bees and the spauff and blue sky over their

heads. Yes, it was a time of year when the cowpulk oiled up his shotgun if he had one, Try it to seal a day off now and then just forget about strain, maverick and concentrate on ducks and prairie chickens.

All perhaps, well, pigeon, look at their hopping. Well, what do you know? First time I knew there was wild pigeons around here, California. Well, Joe, come here. I wish that my shotgun was long. I know.

You forget what we came for. Go hunting. I'll give you a couple of days off and we'll get back to the four twenties. Right now you keep your eyes on your horses ears. We got ten more miles to ride For sure seen this place before huh It's long tree spring dog wrong. Oh, we question now. Oh now now

How do we're so busy with your wildlife? You didn't notice we missed the trail so I circled back to give it another try Well, maybe you better give old bird dog cars from the Quackett that lead horse position I was born with a compass and must go.

That's not what's bothering me right now. Take a look at our tracks down there. What's wrong with them, office? Nothing, I guess. Nice playing trail. At least that's what the guy who's following us thinks.

Well, it's a church. Hey, isn't there a set of tracks? They've followed every twist and turn we've made for the last quarter mile. Don't know if I like that. Seems to me I heard something about a batch of road agents working not far from here.