Never was a day so looked forward to as the Fourth of July that year, and
never did a day seem so long in coming. The last days of June were
checked off one by one on a highly colored calendar suspended against the
wall of the bunkhouse, and at last the impatient ranchers tore the June
sheet off, or, as Chip put it, "took a month off."
Saddles were gone over, oiled and polished, and when at last the
longed-for day arrived every preparation had been made to celebrate it
fittingly. Everybody on the ranch was up before the sun, and after a
hasty breakfast they sallied forth to town.
The three comrades rode with them, and the cowboys surrounded them as a
sort of bodyguard. Mr. Melton was not able to accompany them, as he had
some pressing business affairs to attend to, but he had promised to reach
town before the running race, which was not to take place until the
afternoon, was "pulled off."
It was a beautiful day and the ranchmen were in high spirits. They
laughed and shouted and indulged in rough horse-play like a crowd of
school-boys out for a lark, and the boys did their full share to add to
the general gaiety.
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