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White, Stewart Edward, 1873-1946

"The Rules of the Game"

This is our dry season, you
know. Everything is brown. I like it myself, as do most Californians,
but an Easterner has to get used to it. After the rains, though, the
country is wonderful."
"This isn't my first trip," said Taylor. "I was out here for some months
away back in--I think it was '79. I remember we went in to Santa Barbara
on a steamer that fired a gun by way of greeting! Strangely enough, the
same business brings me here now."
"You are out here on father's account?" hazarded Bob, to whom the year
1879 now began to have its significance.
"Exactly. Didn't you get your father's letter telling of my coming?"
"I've been from headquarters three days," Bob explained.
"I see. Well, he sent you this message: 'Tell Bob to go ahead. I can
take care of myself.'"
"Bully for dad!" cried Bob, greatly heartened.
"He told me he did not want to advise you, but that in the old days when
a fight was on, the spectators were supposed to do their own dodging."
"I'd about come to that conclusion," said Bob, "but it surely does me
good to feel that father's behind me in it."
"My trip in '79--or whenever it was--was exactly on this same muss-up.


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