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“You may bring me the fishing rod,” said Father. “Why were you fighting?” Bob kept quiet. They tied his arms to his[196] sides with the lasso and then one of the men went over to the pony Bob had ridden and, putting a revolver to its head, fired. Bob realized that no matter how mean a citizen a cowboy might be, he would not let an animal suffer. The shot which had dismounted him had hit the pony in one of the hind legs and had broken it..
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Join the fun at Up Down.com and unlock an incredible welcome package designed just for you:I tried logging in using my phone number and I
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get it. I clicked resend a couple time, tried the "call
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either. the trouble shooting had no info on if the call
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Mother patted Johnny’s hand. “We’ll think about it, little John, and talk it over with Father.” But Johnny went to work at once to take the fishing rod apart, and then wrapped it very carefully in old newspapers. Great sport it would have been to have this fine rod to fish with—it was such a beauty—but think of not being able to see, just to walk around a house holding on to the walls! My, oh, my! how frightfully sad that was! It seemed rather pleasant to John, that his singing should be heard so far. It really looked very pretty hanging there on the wall..
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