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diff --git a/2546-h/2546-h.htm b/2546-h/2546-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b8582a6 --- /dev/null +++ b/2546-h/2546-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9368 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Hopalong Cassidy's Rustler Round-up, by Clarence Edward Mulford + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hopalong Cassidy's Rustler Round-Up, by +Clarence Edward Mulford + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Hopalong Cassidy's Rustler Round-Up + Bar-20 + +Author: Clarence Edward Mulford + +Release Date: November 13, 2009 [EBook #2546] +Last Updated: March 16, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOPALONG CASSIDY *** + + + + +Produced by Andrew Heath, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + HOPALONG CASSIDY'S RUSTLER ROUND-UP + </h1> + <h3> + or + </h3> + <h2> + BAR-20 + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Clarence Edward Mulford + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h3> + 1906 + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> Buckskin <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> The Rashness of + Shorty <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> The + Argument <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> The + Vagrant Sioux <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> The + Law of the Range <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> Trials + of the Convalescent <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. + </a> The Open Door <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> + CHAPTER VIII. </a> Hopalong Keeps His Word <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> The Advent of + McAllister <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X.</a> + Peace Hath its Victories <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. + </a> Holding the Claim <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> + CHAPTER XII. </a> The Hospitality of Travennes <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> Travennes' + Discomfiture <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> The + Tale of a Cigarette <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> The + Penalty <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> Rustlers + on the Range <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> Mr. + Trendley Assumes Added Importance <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> + CHAPTER XVIII. </a> The Search Begins <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> Hopalong's Decision + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a> A + Problem Solved <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a> The + Call <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a> The + Showdown <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a> Mr. + Cassidy Meets a Woman <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. + </a> The Strategy of Mr. Peters <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. </a> Mr. Ewalt Draws Cards + <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. Buckskin + </h2> + <p> + The town lay sprawled over half a square mile of alkali plain, its main + Street depressing in its width, for those who were responsible for its + inception had worked with a generosity born of the knowledge that they had + at their immediate and unchallenged disposal the broad lands of Texas and + New Mexico on which to assemble a grand total of twenty buildings, four of + which were of wood. As this material was scarce, and had to be brought + from where the waters of the Gulf lapped against the flat coast, the + last-mentioned buildings were a matter of local pride, as indicating the + progressiveness of their owners. + </p> + <p> + These creations of hammer and saw were of one story, crude and unpainted; + their cheap weather sheathing, warped and shrunken by the pitiless sun, + curled back on itself and allowed unrestricted entrance to alkali dust and + air. The other shacks were of adobe, and reposed in that magnificent + squalor dear to their owners, Indians and Mexicans. + </p> + <p> + It was an incident of the Cattle Trail, that most unique and stupendous of + all modern migrations, and its founders must have been inspired with a + malicious desire to perpetrate a crime against geography, or else they + reveled in a perverse cussedness, for within a mile on every side lay + broad prairies, and two miles to the east flowed the indolent waters of + the Rio Pecos itself. The distance separating the town from the river was + excusable, for at certain seasons of the year the placid stream swelled + mightily and swept down in a broad expanse of turbulent, yellow flood. + </p> + <p> + Buckskin was a town of one hundred inhabitants, located in the valley of + the Rio Pecos fifty miles south of the Texas-New Mexico line. The census + claimed two hundred, but it was a well-known fact that it was exaggerated. + One instance of this is shown by the name of Tom Flynn. Those who once + knew Tom Flynn, alias Johnny Redmond, alias Bill Sweeney, alias Chuck + Mullen, by all four names, could find them in the census list. + Furthermore, he had been shot and killed in the March of the year + preceding the census, and now occupied a grave in the young but + flourishing cemetery. Perry's Bend, twenty miles up the river, was + cognizant of this and other facts, and, laughing in open derision at the + padded list, claimed to be the better town in all ways, including + marksmanship. + </p> + <p> + One year before this tale opens, Buck Peters, an example for the more + recent Billy the Kid, had paid Perry's Bend a short but busy visit. He had + ridden in at the north end of Main Street and out at the south. As he came + in he was fired at by a group of ugly cowboys from a ranch known as the C + 80. He was hit twice, but he unlimbered his artillery, and before his + horse had carried him, half dead, out on the prairie, he had killed one of + the group. Several citizens had joined the cowboys and added their bullets + against Buck. The deceased had been the best bartender in the country, and + the rage of the suffering citizens can well be imagined. They swore + vengeance on Buck, his ranch, and his stamping ground. + </p> + <p> + The difference between Buck and Billy the Kid is that the former never + shot a man who was not trying to shoot him, or who had not been warned by + some action against Buck that would call for it. He minded his own + business, never picked a quarrel, and was quiet and pacific up to a + certain point. After that had been passed he became like a raging cyclone + in a tenement house, and storm-cellars were much in demand. + </p> + <p> + “Fanning” is the name of a certain style of gun play not unknown among the + bad men of the West. While Buck was not a bad man, he had to rub elbows + with them frequently, and he believed that the sauce for the goose was the + sauce for the gander. So be bad removed the trigger of his revolver and + worked the hammer with the thumb of the “gun hand” or the heel of the + unencumbered hand. The speed thus acquired was greater than that of the + more modern double-action weapon. Six shots in a few seconds was his + average speed when that number was required, and when it is thoroughly + understood that at least some of them found their intended bullets it is + not difficult to realize that fanning was an operation of danger when Buck + was doing it. + </p> + <p> + He was a good rider, as all cowboys are, and was not afraid of anything + that lived. At one time he and his chums, Red Connors and Hopalong + Cassidy, had successfully routed a band of fifteen Apaches who wanted + their scalps. Of these, twelve never hunted scalps again, nor anything + else on this earth, and the other three returned to their tribe with the + report that three evil Spirits had chased them with “wheel guns” + (cannons). + </p> + <p> + So now, since his visit to Perry's Bend, the rivalry of the two towns had + turned to hatred and an alert and eager readiness to increase the + inhabitants of each other's graveyard. A state of war existed, which for a + time resulted in nothing worse than acrimonious suggestions. But the time + came when the score was settled to the satisfaction of one side, at least. + </p> + <p> + Four ranches were also concerned in the trouble. Buckskin was surrounded + by two, the Bar 20 and the Three Triangle. Perry's Bend was the common + point for the C 80 and the Double Arrow. Each of the two ranch contingents + accepted the feud as a matter of course, and as a matter of course took + sides with their respective towns. As no better class of fighters ever + lived, the trouble assumed Homeric proportions and insured a danger zone + well worth watching. + </p> + <p> + Bar-20's northern line was C 80's southern one, and Skinny Thompson took + his turn at outriding one morning after the season's round-up. He was to + follow the boundary and turn back stray cattle. When he had covered the + greater part of his journey he saw Shorty Jones riding toward him on a + course parallel to his own and about long revolver range away. Shorty and + he had “crossed trails” the year before and the best of feelings did not + exist between them. + </p> + <p> + Shorty stopped and stared at Skinny, who did likewise at Shorty. Shorty + turned his mount around and applied the spurs, thereby causing his + indignant horse to raise both heels at Skinny. The latter took it all in + gravely and, as Shorty faced him again, placed his left thumb to his nose, + wiggling his fingers suggestively. Shorty took no apparent notice of this + but began to shout: + </p> + <p> + “Yu wants to keep yore busted-down cows on yore own side. They was all + over us day afore yisterday. I'm goin' to salt any more what comes over, + and don't yu fergit it, neither.” + </p> + <p> + Thompson wigwagged with his fingers again and shouted in reply: “Yu c'n + salt all yu wants to, but if I ketch yu adoin' it yu won't have to work no + more. An' I kin say right here thet they's more C 80 cows over here than + they's Bar-20's over there.” + </p> + <p> + Shorty reached for his revolver and yelled, “Yore a liar!” + </p> + <p> + Among the cowboys in particular and the Westerners in general at that + time, the three suicidal terms, unless one was an expert in drawing quick + and shooting straight with one movement, were the words “liar,” “coward,” + and “thief.” Any man who was called one of these in earnest, and he was + the judge, was expected to shoot if he could and save his life, for the + words were seldom used without a gun coming with them. The movement of + Shorty's hand toward his belt before the appellation reached him was + enough for Skinny, who let go at long range—and missed. + </p> + <p> + The two reports were as one. Both urged their horses nearer and fired + again. This time Skinny's sombrero gave a sharp jerk and a hole appeared + in the crown. The third shot of Skinny's sent the horse of the other to + its knees and then over on its side. Shorty very promptly crawled behind + it and, as he did so, Skinny began a wide circle, firing at intervals as + Shorty's smoke cleared away. + </p> + <p> + Shorty had the best position for defense, as he was in a shallow coule, + but he knew that he could not leave it until his opponent had either grown + tired of the affair or had used up his ammunition. Skinny knew it, too. + Skinny also knew that he could get back to the ranch house and lay in a + supply of food and ammunition and return before Shorty could cover the + twelve miles he had to go on foot. + </p> + <p> + Finally Thompson began to head for home. He had carried the matter as far + as he could without it being murder. Too much time had elapsed now, and, + besides, it was before breakfast and he was hungry. He would go away and + settle the score at some time when they would be on equal terms. + </p> + <p> + He rode along the line for a mile and chanced to look back. Two C 80 + punchers were riding after him, and as they saw him turn and discover them + they fired at him and yelled. He rode on for some distance and cautiously + drew his rifle out of its long holster at his right leg. Suddenly he + turned around in the saddle and fired twice. One of his pursuers fell + forward on the neck of his horse, and his comrade turned to help him. + Thompson wig-wagged again and rode on, reaching the ranch as the others + were finishing their breakfast. + </p> + <p> + At the table Red Connors remarked that the tardy one had a hole in his + sombrero, and asked its owner how and where he had received it. + </p> + <p> + “Had a argument with C 80 out'n th' line.” + </p> + <p> + “Go 'way! Ventilate enny?” + </p> + <p> + “One.” + </p> + <p> + “Good boy, sonny! Hey, Hopalong, Skinny perforated C 80 this mawnin'!” + </p> + <p> + Hopalong Cassidy was struggling with a mouthful of beef. He turned his + eyes toward Red without ceasing, and grinning as well as he could under + the circumstances managed to grunt out “Gu—,” which was as near to + “Good” as the beef would allow. + </p> + <p> + Lanky Smith now chimed in as he repeatedly stuck his knife into a + reluctant boiled potato, “How'd yu do it, Skinny?” + </p> + <p> + “Bet he sneaked up on him,” joshed Buck Peters; “did yu ask his pardin, + Skinny?” + </p> + <p> + “Ask nuthin',” remarked Red, “he jest nachurly walks up to C 80 an' sez, + 'Kin I have the pleasure of ventilatin' yu?' an' C So he sez, 'If yu do it + easy like,' sez he. Didn't he, Thompson?” + </p> + <p> + “They'll be some ventilatin' under th' table if yu fellows don't lemme + alone; I'm hungry,” complained Skinny. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Hopalong, I bets yu I kin clean up C 80 all by my lonesome,” + announced Buck, winking at Red. + </p> + <p> + “Yah! Yu onct tried to clean up the Bend, Buckie, an' if Pete an' Billy + hadn't afound yu when they come by Eagle Pass that night yu wouldn't be + here eatin' beef by th' pound,” glancing at the hard-working Hopalong. “It + was plum lucky fer yu that they was acourtin' that time, wasn't it, + Hopalong?” suddenly asked Red. Hopalong nearly strangled in his efforts to + speak. He gave it up and nodded his head. + </p> + <p> + “Why can't yu git it straight, Connors? I wasn't doin' no courtin', it was + Pete. I runned into him on th' other side o' th' pass. I'd look fine + acourtin', wouldn't I?” asked the downtrodden Williams. + </p> + <p> + Pete Wilson skillfully flipped a potato into that worthy's coffee, + spilling the beverage of the questionable name over a large expanse of + blue flannel shirt. “Yu's all right, yu are. Why, when I meets yu, yu was + lost in th' arms of yore ladylove. All I could see was yore feet. Go an' + git tangled up with a two hundred and forty pound half-breed squaw an' + then try to lay it onter me! When I proposed drownin' yore troubles over + at Cowan's, yu went an' got mad over what yu called th' insinooation. An' + yu shore didn't look any too blamed fine, neither.” + </p> + <p> + “All th' same,” volunteered Thompson, who had taken the edge from his + appetite, “we better go over an' pay C 80 a call. I don't like what Shorty + said about saltin' our cattle. He'll shore do it, unless I camps on th' + line, which same I hain't hankerin' after.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he wouldn't stop th' cows that way, Skinny; he was only afoolin',” + exclaimed Connors meekly. + </p> + <p> + “Foolin' yore gran'mother! That there bunch'll do anything if we wasn't + lookin',” hotly replied Skinny. + </p> + <p> + “That's shore nuff gospel, Thomp. They's sore fer mor'n one thing. They + got aplenty when Buck went on th' warpath, an they's hankerin' to git + square,” remarked Johnny Nelson, stealing the pie, a rare treat, of his + neighbor when that unfortunate individual was not looking. He had it + halfway to his mouth when its former owner, Jimmy Price, a boy of + eighteen, turned his head and saw it going. + </p> + <p> + “Hi-yi! Yu clay-bank coyote, drap thet pie! Did yu ever see such a + son-of-a-gun fer pie?” he plaintively asked Red Connors, as he grabbed a + mighty handful of apples and crust. “Pie'll kill yu some day, yu + bob-tailed jack! I had an uncle that died onct. He et too much pie an' he + went an' turned green, an so'll yu if yu don't let it alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Yu ought'r seed th' pie Johnny had down in Eagle Flat,” murmured Lanky + Smith reminiscently. “She had feet that'd stop a stampede. Johnny was + shore loco about her. Swore she was the finest blossom that ever growed.” + Here he choked and tears of laughter coursed down his weather-beaten face + as he pictured her. “She was a dainty Mexican, about fifteen han's high + an' about sixteen han's around. Johnny used to chalk off when he hugged + her, usen't yu, Johnny? One night when he had got purty well around on th' + second lap he run inter a feller jest startin' out on his fust. They + hain't caught that Mexican yet.” + </p> + <p> + Nelson was pelted with everything in sight. He slowly wiped off the pie + crust and bread and potatoes. “Anybody'd think I was a busted grub wagon,” + he grumbled. When he had fished the last piece of beef out of his ear he + went out and offered to stand treat. As the round-up was over, they slid + into their saddles and raced for Cowan's saloon at Buckskin. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. The Rashness of Shorty + </h2> + <p> + Buckskin was very hot; in fact it was never anything else. Few people were + on the streets and the town was quiet. Over in the Houston hotel a crowd + of cowboys was lounging in the barroom. They were very quiet—a + condition as rare as it was ominous. Their mounts, twelve in all, were + switching flies from their quivering skins in the corral at the rear. + Eight of these had a large C 80 branded on their flanks; the other four, a + Double Arrow. + </p> + <p> + In the barroom a slim, wiry man was looking out of the dirty window up the + street at Cowan's saloon. Shorty was complaining, “They shore oughter be + here now. They rounded up last week.” The man nearest assured him that + they would come. The man at the window turned and said, “They's yer now.” + </p> + <p> + In front of Cowan's a crowd of nine happy-go-lucky, daredevil riders were + sliding from their saddles. They threw their reins over the heads of their + mounts and filed in to the bar. Laughter issued from the open door and the + clink of glasses could be heard. They stood in picturesque groups, strong, + self-reliant, humorous, virile. Their expensive sombreros were pushed far + back on their heads and their hairy chaps were covered with the alkali + dust from their ride. + </p> + <p> + Cowan, bottle in hand, pushed out several more glasses. He kicked a dog + from under his feet and looked at Buck. “Rounded up yet?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Shore, day afore yisterday,” came the reply. The rest were busy removing + the dust from their throats, and gradually drifted into groups of two or + three. One of these groups strolled over to the solitary card table, and + found Jimmy Price resting in a cheap chair, his legs on the table. + </p> + <p> + “I wisht yu'd extricate yore delicate feet from off'n this hyar table, + James,” humbly requested Lanky Smith, morally backed up by those with him. + </p> + <p> + “Ya-as, they shore is delicate, Mr. Smith,” responded Jimmy without + moving. + </p> + <p> + “We wants to play draw, Jimmy,” explained Pete. + </p> + <p> + “Yore shore welcome to play if yu wants to. Didn't I tell yu when yu + growed that mustache that yu didn't have to ask me any more?” queried the + placid James, paternally. + </p> + <p> + “Call 'em off, sonny. Pete sez he kin clean me out. Anyhow, yu kin have + the fust deal,” compromised Lanky. + </p> + <p> + “I'm shore sorry fer Pete if he cayn't. Yu don't reckon I has to have fust + deal to beat yu fellers, do yu? Go way an' lemme alone; I never seed such + a bunch fer buttin' in as yu fellers.” + </p> + <p> + Billy Williams returned to the bar. Then he walked along it until he was + behind the recalcitrant possessor of the table. While his aggrieved + friends shuffled their feet uneasily to cover his approach, he tiptoed up + behind Jimmy and, with a nod, grasped that indignant individual firmly by + the neck while the others grabbed his feet. They carried him, twisting and + bucking, to the middle of the street and deposited him in the dust, + returning to the now vacant table. + </p> + <p> + Jimmy rested quietly for a few seconds and then slowly arose, dusting the + alkali from him. + </p> + <p> + “Th' wall-eyed piruts,” he muttered, and then scratched his head for a way + to “play hunk.” As he gazed sorrowfully at the saloon he heard a snicker + from behind him. He, thinking it was one of his late tormentors, paid no + attention to it. Then a cynical, biting laugh stung him. He wheeled, to + see Shorty leaning against a tree, a sneering leer on his flushed face. + Shorty's right hand was suspended above his holster, hooked to his belt by + the thumb—a favorite position of his when expecting trouble. + </p> + <p> + “One of yore reg'lar habits?” he drawled. + </p> + <p> + Jimmy began to dust himself in silence, but his lips were compressed to a + thin white line. + </p> + <p> + “Does they hurt yu?” pursued the onlooker. + </p> + <p> + Jimmy looked up. “I heard tell that they make glue outen cayuses, + sometimes,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + Shorty's eyes flashed. The loss of the horse had been rankling in his + heart all day. + </p> + <p> + “Does they git yu frequent?” he asked. His voice sounded hard. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, 'bout as frequent as yu lose a cayuse, I reckon,” replied Jimmy + hotly. + </p> + <p> + Shorty's hand streaked to his holster and Jimmy followed his lead. Jimmy's + Colt was caught. He had bucked too much. As he fell Shorty ran for the + Houston House. + </p> + <p> + Pistol shots were common, for they were the universal method of expressing + emotions. The poker players grinned, thinking their victim was letting off + his indignation. Lanky sized up his hand and remarked half audibly, “He's + a shore good kid.” + </p> + <p> + The bartender, fearing for his new beveled, gilt-framed mirror, gave a + hasty glance out the window. He turned around, made change and remarked to + Buck, “Yore kid, Jimmy, is plugged.” Several of the more credulous craned + their necks to see, Buck being the first. “Judas!” he shouted, and ran out + to where Jimmy lay coughing, his toes twitching. The saloon was deserted + and a crowd of angry cowboys surrounded their chum-aboy. Buck had seen + Shorty enter the door of the Houston House and he swore. “Chase them C 80 + and Arrow cayuses behind the saloon, Pete, an' git under cover.” + </p> + <p> + Jimmy was choking and he coughed up blood. “He's shore—got me. My—gun + stuck,” he added apologetically. He tried to sit up, but was not able and + he looked surprised. “It's purty-damn hot-out here,” he suggested. Johnny + and Billy carried him in the saloon and placed him by the table, in the + chair he had previously vacated. As they stood up he fell across the table + and died. + </p> + <p> + Billy placed the dead boy's sombrero on his head and laid the refractory + six-shooter on the table. “I wonder who th' dirty killer was.” He looked + at the slim figure and started to go out, followed by Johnny. As he + reached the threshold a bullet zipped past him and thudded into the frame + of the door. He backed away and looked surprised. “That's Shorty's + shootin'—he allus misses 'bout that much.” He looked out and saw + Buck standing behind the live oak that Shorty had leaned against, firing + at the hotel. Turning around he made for the rear, remarking to Johnny + that “they's in th' Houston.” Johnny looked at the quiet figure in the + chair and swore softly. He followed Billy. Cowan, closing the door and + taking a buffalo gun from under the bar, went out also and slammed the + rear door forcibly. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. The Argument + </h2> + <p> + Up the street two hundred yards from the Houston House Skinny and Pete lay + hidden behind a bowlder. Three hundred yards on the other side of the + hotel Johnny and Billy were stretched out in an arroyo. Buck was lying + down now, and Hopalong, from his position in the barn belonging to the + hotel, was methodically dropping the horses of the besieged, a job he + hated as much as he hated poison. The corral was their death trap. Red and + Lanky were emitting clouds of smoke from behind the store, immediately + across the street from the barroom. A buffalo gun roared down by the plaza + and several Sharps cracked a protest from different points. The town had + awakened and the shots were dropping steadily. + </p> + <p> + Strange noises filled the air. They grew in tone and volume and then + dwindled away to nothing. The hum of the buffalo gun and the sobbing + pi-in-in-ing of the Winchesters were liberally mixed with the sharp whines + of the revolvers. + </p> + <p> + There were no windows in the hotel now. Raw furrows in the bleached wood + showed yellow, and splinters mysteriously sprang from the casings. The + panels of the door were producing cracks and the cheap door handle flew + many ways at once. An empty whisky keg on the stoop boomed out mournfully + at intervals and finally rolled down the steps with a rumbling protest. + Wisps of smoke slowly climbed up the walls and seemed to be waving + defiance to the curling wisps in the open. + </p> + <p> + Pete raised his shoulder to refill the magazine of his smoking rifle and + dropped the cartridges all over his lap. He looked sheepishly at Skinny + and began to load with his other hand. + </p> + <p> + “Yore plum loco, yu are. Don't yu reckon they kin hit a blue shirt at two + hundred?” Skinny cynically inquired. “Got one that time,” he announced a + second later. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder who's got th' buffalo,” grunted Pete. “Mus' be Cowan,” he + replied to his own question and settled himself to use his left hand. + </p> + <p> + “Don't yu git Shorty; he's my meat,” suggested Skinny. + </p> + <p> + “Yu better tell Buck—he ain't got no love fer Shorty,” replied Pete, + aiming carefully. + </p> + <p> + The panic in the corral ceased and Hopalong was now sending his regrets + against the panels of the rear door. He had cut his last initial in the + near panel and was starting a wobbly “H” in its neighbor. He was in a good + position. There were no windows in the rear wall, and as the door was a + very dangerous place he was not fired at. + </p> + <p> + He began to get tired of this one-sided business and crawled up on the + window ledge, dangling his feet on the outside. He occasionally sent a + bullet at a different part of the door, but amused himself by annoying + Buck. + </p> + <p> + “Plenty hot down there?” he pleasantly inquired, and as he received no + answer he tried again. “Better save some of them cartridges fer some other + time, Buck.” + </p> + <p> + Buck was sending 45-70's into the shattered window with a precision that + presaged evil to any of the defenders who were rash enough to try to gain + the other end of the room. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong bit off a chew of tobacco and drowned a green fly that was + crawling up the side of the barn. The yellow liquid streaked downward a + short distance and was eagerly sucked up by the warped boards. + </p> + <p> + A spurt of smoke leaped from the battered door and the bored Hopalong + promptly tumbled back inside. He felt of his arm, and then, delighted at + the notice taken of his artistic efforts, shot several times from a crack + on his right. “This yer's shore gittin' like home,” he gravely remarked to + the splinter that whizzed past his head. He shot again at the door and it + sagged outward, accompanied by the thud of a falling body. “Pies like + mother used to make,” he announced to the loft as he slipped the magazine + full of .45-70's. “An' pills like popper used to take,” he continued when + he had lowered the level of the water in his flask. + </p> + <p> + He rolled a cigarette and tossed the match into the air, extinguishing it + by a shot from his Colt. + </p> + <p> + “Got any cigarettes, Hoppy?” said a voice from below. + </p> + <p> + “Shore,” replied the joyous puncher, recognizing Pete; “how'd yu git + here?” + </p> + <p> + “Like a cow. Busy?” + </p> + <p> + “None whatever. Comin' up?” + </p> + <p> + “Nope. Skinny wants a smoke too.” + </p> + <p> + Hopalong handed tobacco and papers down the hole. “So long.” + </p> + <p> + “So long,” replied the daring Pete, who risked death twice for a smoke. + </p> + <p> + The hot afternoon dragged along and about three o'clock Buck held up an + empty cartridge belt to the gaze of the curious Hopalong. That observant + worthy nodded and threw a double handful of cartridges, one by one, to the + patient and unrelenting Buck, who filled his gun and piled the few + remaining ones up at his side. “Th' lives of mice and men gang aft all + wrong,” he remarked at random. + </p> + <p> + “Th' son-of-a-gun's talkin' Shakespeare,” marveled Hopalong. “Satiate any, + Buck?” he asked as that worthy settled down to await his chance. + </p> + <p> + “Two,” he replied, “Shorty an' another. Plenty damn hot down here,” he + complained. A spurt of alkali dust stung his face, but the hand that made + it never made another. “Three,” he called. “How many, Hoppy?” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “One. That's four. Wonder if th' others got any?” + </pre> + <p> + “Pete said Skinny got one,” replied the intent Buck. + </p> + <p> + “Th' son-of-a-gun, he never said nothin' about it, an' me a fillin' his + ornery paws with smokin'.” Hopalong was indignant. + </p> + <p> + “Bet yu ten we don't git 'em afore dark,” he announced. + </p> + <p> + “Got yu. Go yu ten more I gits another,” promptly responded Buck. + </p> + <p> + “That's a shore cinch. Make her twenty.” + </p> + <p> + “She is.” + </p> + <p> + “Yu'll have to square it with Skinny, he shore wanted Shorty plum' bad,” + Hopalong informed the unerring marksman. + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't he say suthin' about it? Anyhow, Jimmy was my bunkie.” + </p> + <p> + Hopalong's cigarette disintegrated and the board at his left received a + hole. He promptly disappeared and Buck laughed. He sat up in the loft and + angrily spat the soaked paper out from between his lips. + </p> + <p> + “All that trouble fer nothin', th' white-eyed coyote,” he muttered. Then + he crawled around to one side and fired at the center of his “C.” Another + shot hurtled at him and his left arm fell to his side. “That's funny—wonder + where th' damn pirut is?” He looked out cautiously and saw a cloud of + smoke over a knothole which was situated close up under the eaves of the + barroom; and it was being agitated. Some one was blowing at it to make it + disappear. He aimed very carefully at the knot and fired. He heard a sound + between a curse and a squawk and was not molested any further from that + point. + </p> + <p> + “I knowed he'd git hurt,” he explained to the bandage, torn from the edge + of his kerchief, which he carefully bound around his last wound. + </p> + <p> + Down in the arroyo Johnny was complaining. + </p> + <p> + “This yer's a no good bunk,” he plaintively remarked. + </p> + <p> + “It shore ain't—but it's th' best we kin find,” apologized Billy. + </p> + <p> + “That's th' sixth that feller sent up there. He's a damn poor shot,” + observed Johnny; “must be Shorty.” + </p> + <p> + “Shorty kin shoot plum' good—tain't him,” contradicted Billy. + </p> + <p> + “Yas—with a six-shooter. He's off'n his feed with a rifle,” + explained Johnny. + </p> + <p> + “Yu wants to stay down from up there, yu ijit,” warned Billy as the + disgusted Johnny crawled up the bank. He slid down again with a welt on + his neck. + </p> + <p> + “That's somebody else now. He oughter a done better'n that,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Billy had fired as Johnny started to slide and he smoothed his aggrieved + chum. “He could onct, yu means.” + </p> + <p> + “Did yu git him?” asked the anxious Johnny, rubbing his welt. “Plum' + center,” responded the business-like Billy. “Go up agin, mebby I kin git + another,” he suggested tentatively. + </p> + <p> + “Mebby you kin go to blazes. I ain't no gallery,” grinned the now + exuberant owner of the welt. + </p> + <p> + “Who's got the buffalo?” he inquired as the great gun roared. + </p> + <p> + “Mus' be Cowan. He's shore all right. Sounds like a bloomin' cannon,” + replied Billy. “Lemme alone with yore fool questions, I'm busy,” he + complained as his talkative partner started to ask another. “Go an' git me + some water—I'm alkalied. An' git some .45's, mine's purty near + gone.” + </p> + <p> + Johnny crawled down the arroyo and reappeared at Hopalong's barn. + </p> + <p> + As he entered the door a handful of empty shells fell on his hat and + dropped to the floor. He shook his head and remarked, “That mus' be that + fool Hopalong.” + </p> + <p> + “Yore shore right. How's business?” inquired the festive Cassidy. + </p> + <p> + “Purty fair. Billy's got one. How many's gone?” + </p> + <p> + “Buck's got three, I got two and Skinny's got one. That's six, an' Billy + is seven. They's five more,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “How'd yu know?” queried Johnny as he filled his flask at the horse + trough. + </p> + <p> + “Because they's twelve cayuses behind the hotel. That's why.” + </p> + <p> + “They might git away on 'em,” suggested the practical Johnny. + </p> + <p> + “Can't. They's all cashed in.” + </p> + <p> + “Yu said that they's five left,” ejaculated the puzzled water carrier. + </p> + <p> + “Yah; yore a smart cuss, ain't yu?” + </p> + <p> + Johnny grinned and then said, “Got any smokin'?” Hopalong looked grieved. + “I ain't no store. Why don't yu git generous and buy some?” + </p> + <p> + He partially filled Johnny's hand, and as he put the sadly depleted bag + away he inquired, “Got any papers?” + </p> + <p> + “Nope.” + </p> + <p> + “Got any matches?” he asked cynically. + </p> + <p> + “Nope.” + </p> + <p> + “Kin yu smoke 'em?” he yelled, indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “Shore nuff,” placidly replied the unruffled Johnny. “Billy wants some + .45-70's.” + </p> + <p> + Hopalong gasped. “Don't he want my gun, too?” + </p> + <p> + “Nope. Got a better one. Hurry up, he'll git mad.” Hopalong was a very + methodical person. He was the only one of his crowd to carry a second + cartridge strap. It hung over his right shoulder and rested on his left + hip. His waist belt held thirty cartridges for the revolvers. He extracted + twenty from that part of the shoulder strap hardest to get at, the back, + by simply pulling it over his shoulder and plucking out the bullets as + they came into reach. + </p> + <p> + “That's all yu kin have. I'm Buck's ammernition jackass,” he explained. + “Bet yu ten we gits 'em afore dark”—he was hedging. + </p> + <p> + “Any fool knows that. I'll take yu if yu bets th' other way,” responded + Johnny, grinning. He knew Hopalong's weak spot. + </p> + <p> + “Yore on,” promptly responded Hopalong, who would bet on anything. + </p> + <p> + “Well, so long,” said Johnny as he crawled away. + </p> + <p> + “Hey, yu, Johnny!” called out Hopalong, “don't yu go an' tell anybody I + got any pills left. I ain't no ars'nal.” + </p> + <p> + Johnny replied by elevating one foot and waving it. Then he disappeared. + </p> + <p> + Behind the store, the most precarious position among the besiegers, Red + Connors and Lanky Smith were ensconced and commanded a view of the entire + length of the barroom. They could see the dark mass they knew to be the + rear door and derived a great amount of amusement from the spots of light + which were appearing in it. + </p> + <p> + They watched the “C” (reversed to them) appear and be completed. When the + wobbly “H” grew to completion they laughed heartily. Then the hardwood bar + had been dragged across the field of vision and up to the front windows, + and they could only see the indiscriminate holes which appeared in the + upper panels at frequent intervals. + </p> + <p> + Every time they fired they had to expose a part of themselves to a return + shot, with the result that Lanky's forearm was seared its entire length. + Red had been more fortunate and only had a bruised ear. + </p> + <p> + They laboriously rolled several large rocks out in the open, pushing them + beyond the shelter of the store with their rifles. When they had crawled + behind them they each had another wound. From their new position they + could see Hopalong sitting in his window. He promptly waved his sombrero + and grinned. + </p> + <p> + They were the most experienced fighters of all except Buck, and were + saving their shots. When they did shoot they always had some portion of a + man's body to aim at, and the damage they inflicted was considerable. They + said nothing, being older than the rest and more taciturn, and they were + not reckless. Although Hopalong's antics made them laugh, they grumbled at + his recklessness and were not tempted to emulate him. It was noticeable, + too, that they shoved their rifles out simultaneously and, although both + were aiming, only one fired. Lanky's gun cracked so close to the enemy's + that the whirr of the bullet over Red's head was merged in the crack of + his partner's reply. + </p> + <p> + When Hopalong saw the rocks roll out from behind the store he grew very + curious. Then he saw a flash, followed instantly by another from the + second rifle. He saw several of these follow shots and could sit in + silence no longer. He waved his hat to attract attention and then shouted, + “How many?” A shot was sent straight up in the air and he notified Buck + that there were only four left. + </p> + <p> + The fire of these four grew less rapid—they were saving their + ammunition. A pot shot at Hopalong sent that gentleman's rifle hurtling to + the ground. Another tore through his hat, removing a neat amount of skin + and hair and giving him a lifelong part. He fell back inside and proceeded + to shoot fast and straight with his revolvers, his head burning as though + on fire. When he had vented the dangerous pressure of his anger he went + below and tried to fish the rifle in with a long stick. It was obdurate, + so he sent three more shots into the door, and, receiving no reply, ran + out around the corner of his shelter and grasped the weapon. When half way + back he sank to the ground. Before another shot could be fired at him with + any judgment a ripping, spitting rifle was being frantically worked from + the barn. The bullets tore the door into seams and gaps; the lowest panel, + the one having the “H” in it, fell inward in chunks. Johnny had returned + for another smoke. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong, still grasping the rifle, rolled rapidly around the corner of + the barn. He endeavored to stand, but could not. Johnny, hearing rapid and + fluent swearing, came out. + </p> + <p> + “Where'd they git yu?” he asked. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “In th' off leg. Hurts like blazes. Did yu git him?” + </pre> + <p> + “Nope. I jest come fer another cig; got any left?” + </p> + <p> + “Up above. Yore gall is shore apallin'. Help me in, yu two-laigged + jackass.” + </p> + <p> + “Shore. We'll shore pay our 'tentions to that door. She'll go purty soon—she's + as full of holes as th' Bad Lan's,” replied Johnny. “Git aholt an' hop + along, Hopalong.” + </p> + <p> + He helped the swearing Hopalong inside, and then the lead they pumped into + the wrecked door was scandalous. Another panel fell in and Hopalong's “C” + was destroyed. A wide crack appeared in the one above it and grew rapidly. + Its mate began to gape and finally both were driven in. The increase in + the light caused by these openings allowed Red and Lanky to secure better + aim and soon the fire of the defenders died out. + </p> + <p> + Johnny dropped his rifle and, drawing his six-shooter, ran out and dashed + for the dilapidated door, while Hopalong covered that opening with a + fusilade. + </p> + <p> + As Johnny's shoulder sent the framework flying inward he narrowly missed + sudden death. As it was he staggered to the side, out of range, and + dropped full length to the ground, flat on his face. Hopalong's rifle + cracked incessantly, but to no avail. The man who had fired the shot was + dead. Buck got him immediately after he had shot Johnny. + </p> + <p> + Calling to Skinny and Red to cover him, Buck sprinted to where Johnny lay + gasping. The bullet had struck his shoulder. Buck, Colt in hand, leaped + through the door, but met with no resistance. He signaled to Hopalong, who + yelled, “They's none left.” + </p> + <p> + The trees and rocks and gullies and buildings yielded men who soon crowded + around the hotel. A young doctor, lately graduated, appeared. It was his + first case, but he eased Johnny. Then he went over to Hopalong, who was + now raving, and attended to him. The others were patched up as well as + possible and the struggling young physician had his pockets crammed full + of gold and silver coins. + </p> + <p> + The scene of the wrecked barroom was indescribable. Holes, furrows, + shattered glass and bottles, the liquor oozing down the walls of the + shelves and running over the floor; the ruined furniture, a wrecked bar, + seared and shattered and covered with blood; bodies as they had been piled + in the corners; ropes, shells, hats; and liquor everywhere, over + everything, met the gaze of those who had caused the chaos. + </p> + <p> + Perry's Bend had failed to wipe out the score. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. The Vagrant Sioux + </h2> + <p> + Buckskin gradually readjusted itself to the conditions which had existed + before its sudden leap into the limelight as a town which did things. The + soiree at the Houston House had drifted into the past, and was now + substantially established as an epoch in the history of the town. + Exuberant joy gave way to dignity and deprecation, and to solid + satisfaction; and the conversations across the bar brought forth parallels + of the affair to be judged impartially—and the impartial judgment + was, unanimously, that while there had undoubtedly been good fights before + Perry's Bend had disturbed the local quiet, they were not quite up to the + new standard of strenuous hospitality. Finally the heat blistered + everything back into the old state, and the shadows continued to be in + demand. + </p> + <p> + One afternoon, a month after the reception of the honorable delegation + from Perry's Bend, the town of Buckskin seemed desolated, and the earth + and the buildings thereon were as huge furnaces radiating a visible heat, + but when the blazing sun had begun to settle in the west it awoke with a + clamor which might have been laid to the efforts of a zealous Satan. At + this time it became the Mecca of two score or more joyous cowboys from the + neighboring ranches, who livened things as those knights of the saddle + could. + </p> + <p> + In the scant but heavy shadow of Cowan's saloon sat a picturesque figure + from whom came guttural, resonant rumblings which mingled in a spirit of + loneliness with the fretful sighs of a flea-tormented dog. Both dog and + master were vagrants, and they were tolerated because it was a matter of + supreme indifference as to who came or how long they stayed as long as the + ethics and the unwritten law of the cow country were inviolate. And the + breaking of these caused no unnecessary anxiety, for justice was both + speedy and sure. + </p> + <p> + When the outcast Sioux and his yellow dog had drifted into town some few + months before they had caused neither expostulation nor inquiry, as the + cardinal virtue of that whole broad land was to ask a man no questions + which might prove embarrassing to all concerned; judgment was of + observation, not of history, and a man's past would reveal itself through + actions. It mattered little whether he was an embezzler or the wild chip + from some prosperous eastern block, as men came to the range to forget and + to lose touch with the pampered East; and the range absorbed them as its + own. + </p> + <p> + A man was only a man as his skin contained the qualities necessary; and + the illiterate who could ride and shoot and live to himself was far more + esteemed than the educated who could not do those things. The more a man + depends upon himself and the closer is his contact to a quick judgment the + more laconic and even-poised he becomes. And the knowledge that he is + himself a judge tends to create caution and judgment. He has no court to + uphold his honor and to offer him protection, so he must be quick to + protect himself and to maintain his own standing. His nature saved him, or + it executed; and the range absolved him of all unpaid penalties of a + careless past. + </p> + <p> + He became a man born again and he took up his burden, the exactions of a + new environment, and he lived as long as those exactions gave him the + right to live. He must tolerate no restrictions of his natural rights, and + he must not restrict; for the one would proclaim him a coward, the other a + bully; and both received short shrifts in that land of the self-protected. + The basic law of nature is the survival of the fittest. + </p> + <p> + So, when the wanderers found their level in Buckskin they were not even + asked by what name men knew them. Not caring to hear a name which might + not harmonize with their idea of the fitness of things, the cowboys of the + Bar-20 had, with a freedom born of excellent livers and fearless + temperaments, bestowed names befitting their sense of humor and + adaptability. The official title of the Sioux was By-and-by; the dog was + known as Fleas. Never had names more clearly described the objects to be + represented, for they were excellent examples of cowboy discernment and + aptitude. + </p> + <p> + In their eyes By-and-by was a man. He could feel and he could resent + insults. They did not class him as one of themselves, because he did not + have energy enough to demand and justify such classification. With them he + had a right to enjoy his life as he saw fit so long as he did not trespass + on or restrict the rights of others. They were not analytic in + temperament, neither were they moralists. He was not a menace to society, + because society had superb defenses. So they vaguely recognized his many + poor qualities and clearly saw his few good ones. He could shoot, when + permitted, with the best; no horse, however refractory, had ever been + known to throw him; he was an adept at following the trails left by + rustlers, and that was an asset; he became of value to the community; he + was an economic factor. + </p> + <p> + His ability to consume liquor with indifferent effects raised him another + notch in their estimation. He was not always talking when some one else + wished to—another count. There remained about him that stoical + indifference to the petty; that observant nonchalance of the Indian; and + there was a suggestion, faint, it was true, of a dignity common to + chieftains. He was a log of grave deference which tossed on their sea of + mischievous hilarity. + </p> + <p> + He wore a pair of corduroy trousers, known to the care-free as “pants,” + which were held together by numerous patches of what had once been + brilliantly colored calico. A pair of suspenders, torn into two separate + straps, made a belt for himself and a collar for his dog. The trousers had + probably been secured during a fit of absent-mindedness on his part when + their former owner had not been looking. Tucked at intervals in the top of + the corduroys (the exceptions making convenient shelves for alkali dust) + was what at one time had been a stiff-bosomed shirt. This was open down + the front and back, the weight of the trousers on the belt holding it + firmly on the square shoulders of the wearer, thus precluding the + necessity of collar buttons. A pair of moccasins, beautifully worked with + wampum, protected his feet from the onslaughts of cacti and the + inquisitive and pugnacious sand flies; and lying across his lap was a + repeating Winchester rifle, not dangerous because it was empty, a + condition due to the wisdom of the citizens in forbidding any one to sell, + trade or give to him those tubes of concentrated trouble, because he could + get drunk. + </p> + <p> + The two were contented and happy. They had no cares nor duties, and their + pleasures were simple and easily secured, as they consisted of sleep and a + proneness to avoid moving. Like the untrammeled coyote, their bed was + where sleep overtook them; their food, what the night wrapped in a sense + of security, or the generosity of the cowboys of the Bar-20. No tub-ridden + Diogenes ever knew so little of responsibility or as much unadulterated + content. There is a penalty even to civilization and ambition. + </p> + <p> + When the sun had cast its shadows beyond By-and-by's feet the air became + charged with noise; shouts, shots and the rolling thunder of madly + pounding hoofs echoed flatly throughout the town. By-and-by yawned, + stretched and leaned back, reveling in the semi-conscious ecstasy of the + knowledge that he did not have to immediately get up. Fleas opened one eye + and cocked an ear in inquiry, and then rolled over on his back, squirmed + and sighed contentedly and long. The outfit of the Bar-20 had come to + town. + </p> + <p> + The noise came rapidly nearer and increased in volume as the riders turned + the corner and drew rein suddenly, causing their mounts to slide on their + haunches in ankle-deep dust. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo, old Buck-with-th'-pants, how's yore liver?” + </p> + <p> + “Come up an irrigate, old tank!” + </p> + <p> + “Chase th' flea ranch an' trail along!” + </p> + <p> + These were a few of the salutations discernible among the medley of + playful yells, the safety valves of supercharged good-nature. + </p> + <p> + “Skr-e-e!” yelled Hopalong Cassidy, letting off a fusillade of shots in + the vicinity of Fleas, who rapidly retreated around the corner, where he + wagged his tail in eager expectation. He was not disappointed, for a cow + pony tore around in pursuit and Hopalong leaned over and scratched the + yellow back, thumping it heartily, and, tossing a chunk of beef into the + open jaws of the delighted dog, departed as he had come. The advent of the + outfit meant a square meal, and the dog knew it. + </p> + <p> + In Cowan's, lined up against the bar, the others were earnestly and + assiduously endeavoring, with a promise of success, to get By-and-by + drunk, which endeavors coincided perfectly with By-and-by's idea of the + fitness of things. The fellowship and the liquor combined to thaw out his + reserve and to loosen his tongue. After gazing with an air of injured + surprise at the genial loosening of his knees he gravely handed his rifle + with an exaggerated sweep of his arm, to the cowboy nearest him, and + wrapped his arms around the recipient to insure his balance. The rifle was + passed from hand to hand until it came to Buck Peters, who gravely + presented it to its owner as a new gun. + </p> + <p> + By-and-by threw out his stomach in an endeavor to keep his head in line + with his heels, and grasping the weapon with both hands turned to Cowan, + to whom he gave it. + </p> + <p> + “Yu hab this un. Me got two. Me keep new un, mebby so.” Then he loosened + his belt and drank long and deep. + </p> + <p> + A shadow darkened the doorway and Hopalong limped in. Spying By-and-by + pushing the bottle into his mouth, while Red Connors propped him, he + grinned and took out five silver dollars, which he jingled under + By-and-by's eyes, causing that worthy to lay aside the liquor and + erratically grab for the tantalizing fortune. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet, sabe?” said Hopalong, changing the position of the money. “If yu + wants to corral this here herd of simoleons yu has to ride a cayuse what + Red bet me yu can't ride. Yu has got to grow on that there saddle and + stayed growed for five whole minutes by Buck's ticker. I ain't a-goin' to + tell yu he's any saw-horse, for yu'd know better, as yu reckons Red + wouldn't bet on no losin' proposition if he knowed better, which same he + don't. Yu straddles that four-laigged cloudburst an' yu gets these, sabe? + I ain't seen th' cayuse yet that yu couldn't freeze to, an' I'm backin' my + opinions with my moral support an' one month's pay.” + </p> + <p> + By-and-by's eyes began to glitter as the meaning of the words sifted + through his befuddled mind. Ride a horse—five dollars—ride a + five-dollars horse—horses ride dollars—then he straightened up + and began to speak in an incoherent jumble of Sioux and bad English. He, + the mighty rider of the Sioux; he, the bravest warrior and the greatest + hunter; could he ride a horse for five dollars? Well, he rather thought he + could. Grasping Red by the shoulder, he tacked for the door and narrowly + missed hitting the bottom step first, landing, as it happened, in the soft + dust with Red's leg around his neck. Somewhat sobered by the jar, he stood + up and apologized to the crowd for Red getting in the way, declaring that + Red was a “Heap good un,” and that he didn't mean to do it. + </p> + <p> + The outfit of the Bar-20 was, perhaps, the most famous of all from Canada + to the Rio Grande. The foreman, Buck Peters, controlled a crowd of men + (who had all the instincts of boys) that had shown no quarter to many + rustlers, and who, while always carefree and easy-going (even fighting + with great good humor and carelessness), had established the reputation of + being the most reckless gang of daredevil gun-fighters that ever pounded + leather. Crooked gaming houses, from El Paso to Cheyenne and from Phoenix + to Leavenworth, unanimously and enthusiastically damned them from their + boots to their sombreros, and the sheriffs and marshals of many localities + had received from their hands most timely assistance—and some + trouble. Wiry, indomitable, boyish and generous, they were splendid + examples of virile manhood; and, surrounded as they were with great + dangers and a unique civilization, they should not, in justice, be judged + by opinions born of the commonplace. + </p> + <p> + They were real cowboys, which means, public opinion to the contrary + notwithstanding, that they were not lawless, nor drunken, shooting bullies + who held life cheaply, as their kin has been unjustly pictured; but while + these men were naturally peaceable they had to continually rub elbows with + men who were not. Gamblers, criminals, bullies and the riffraff that fled + from the protected East had drifted among them in great numbers, and it + was this class that caused the trouble. + </p> + <p> + The hardworking “cow-punchers” lived according to the law of the land, and + they obeyed that greatest of all laws, that of self-preservation. Their + fun was boisterous, but they paid for all the damage they inflicted; their + work was one continual hardship, and the reaction of one extreme swings + far toward the limit of its antithesis. Go back to the Apple if you would + trace the beginning of self-preservation and the need. + </p> + <p> + Buck Peters was a man of mild appearance, somewhat slow of speech and + correspondingly quick of action, who never became flurried. His was the + master hand that controlled, and his Colts enjoyed the reputation of never + missing when a hit could have been expected with reason. Many floods, + stampedes and blizzards had assailed his nerves, but he yet could pour a + glass of liquor, held at arm's length, through a knothole in the floor + without wetting the wood. + </p> + <p> + Next in age came Lanky Smith, a small, undersized man of retiring + disposition. Then came Skinny Thompson, six feet four on his bared soles, + and true to his name; Hopalong described him as “th' shadow of a chalk + mark.” Pete Wilson, the slow-witted and very taciturn, and Billy Williams, + the wavering pessimist, were of ordinary height and appearance. Red + Connors, with hair that shamed the name, was the possessor of a temper + which was as dry as tinder; his greatest weakness was his regard for the + rifle as a means of preserving peace. Johnny Nelson was the protege, and + he could do no wrong. + </p> + <p> + The last, Hopalong Cassidy, was a combination of irresponsibility, humor, + good nature, love of fighting, and nonchalance when face to face with + danger. His most prominent attribute was that of always getting into + trouble without any intention of so doing; in fact, he was much aggrieved + and surprised when it came. It seemed as though when any “bad man” desired + to add to his reputation he invariably selected Hopalong as the means (a + fact due, perhaps, to the perversity of things in general). Bad men became + scarce soon after Hopalong became a fixture in any locality. He had been + crippled some years before in a successful attempt to prevent the + assassination of a friend, Sheriff Harris, of Albuquerque, and he still + possessed a limp. + </p> + <p> + When Red had relieved his feelings and had dug the alkali out of his ears + and eyes, he led the Sioux to the rear of the saloon, where a “pinto” was + busily engaged in endeavoring to pitch a saddle from his back, employing + the intervals in trying to see how much of the picket rope he could wrap + around his legs. + </p> + <p> + When By-and-by saw what he was expected to ride he felt somewhat relieved, + for the pony did not appear to have more than the ordinary amount of + cussedness. He waved his hand, and Johnny and Red bandaged the animal's + eyes, which quieted him at once, and then they untangled the rope from + around his legs and saw that the cinches were secure. Motioning to + By-and-by that all was ready, they jerked the bandage off as the Indian + settled himself in the saddle. + </p> + <p> + Had By-and-by been really sober he would have taken the conceit out of + that pony in chunks, and as it was he experienced no great difficulty in + holding his seat; but in his addled state of mind he grasped the end of + the cinch strap in such a way that when the pony jumped forward in its + last desperate effort the buckle slipped and the cinch became unfastened; + and By-and-by, still seated in the saddle, flew head foremost into the + horse trough, where he spilled much water. + </p> + <p> + As this happened Cowan turned the corner, and when he saw the wasted water + (which he had to carry, bucketful at a time, from the wells a good quarter + of a mile away) his anger blazed forth, and yelling, he ran for the + drenched Sioux, who was just crawling out of his bath. When the + unfortunate saw the irate man bearing down on him he sputtered in rage and + fear, and, turning, he ran down the street, with Cowan thundering + flatfootedly behind on a fat man's gallop, to the hysterical cheers of the + delighted outfit, who saw in it nothing but a good joke. + </p> + <p> + When Cowan returned from his hopeless task, blowing and wheezing, he heard + sundry remarks, sotto voce, which were not calculated to increase his + opinion of his physical condition. + </p> + <p> + “Seems to me,” remarked the irrepressible Hopalong, “that one of those + cayuses has got th' heaves.” + </p> + <p> + “It shore sounds like it,” acquiesced Johnny, red in the face from holding + in his laughter, “an' say, somebody interferes.” + </p> + <p> + “All knock-kneed animals do, yu heathen,” supplied Red. + </p> + <p> + “Hey, yu, let up on that and have a drink on th' house,” invited Cowan. + “If I gits that durn war whoop I'll make yu think there's been a cyclone. + I'll see how long that bum hangs around this here burg, I will.” + </p> + <p> + Red's eyes narrowed and his temper got the upper hand. “He ain't no bum + when yu gives him rotgut at a quarter of a dollar a glass, is he? Any time + that 'bum' gits razzled out for nothin' more'n this, why, I goes too; an' + I ain't sayin' nothin' about goin' peaceable—like, neither.” + </p> + <p> + “I knowed somethin' like this 'ud happen,” dolefully sang out Billy + Williams, strong on the side of his pessimism. + </p> + <p> + “For th' Lord's sake, have you broke out?” asked Red, disgustedly. “I'm + goin' to hit the trail—but just keep this afore yore mind: if + By-and-by gits in any accidents or ain't in sight when I comes to town + again, this here climate'll be a heep sight hotter'n it is now. No hard + feelings, sabe? It's just a casual bit of advice. Come on, fellows, let's + amble—I'm hungry.” + </p> + <p> + As they raced across the plain toward the ranch a pair of beady eyes, + snapping with a drunken rage, watched them from an arroyo; and when Cowan + entered the saloon the next morning he could not find By-and-by's rifle, + which he had placed behind the bar. He also missed a handful of cartridges + from the box near the cash drawer; and had he looked closely at his + bottled whisky he would have noticed a loss there. A horse was missing + from a Mexican's corral and there were rumors that several Indians had + been seen far out on the plain. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. The Law of the Range + </h2> + <p> + “Phew! I'm shore hungry,” said Hopalong, as he and Red dismounted at the + ranch the next morning for breakfast. “Wonder what's good for it?” + </p> + <p> + “They's three things that's good for famine,” said Red, leading the way to + the bunk house. “Yu can pull in yore belt, yu can drink, an yu can eat. + Yore getting as bad as Johnny—but he's young yet.” + </p> + <p> + The others met their entrance with a volley of good-humored banter, some + of which was so personal and evoked such responses that it sounded like + the preliminary skirmish to a fight. But under all was that soft accent, + that drawl of humorous appreciation and eyes twinkling in suppressed + merriment. Here they were thoroughly at home and the spirit of comradeship + manifested itself in many subtle ways; the wit became more daring and + sharp, Billy lost some of his pessimism, and the alertness disappeared + from their manner. + </p> + <p> + Skinny left off romping with Red and yawned. “I wish that cook'ud wake up + an' git breakfast. He's the cussedest hombre I ever saw—he kin go to + sleep standin' up an' not know it. Johnny's th' boy that worries him—th' + kid comes in an' whoops things up till he's gorged himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Johnny's got th' most appallin' feel for grub of anybody I knows,” added + Red. “I wonder what's keepin' him—he's usually hangin' around here + bawlin' for his grub like a spoiled calf, long afore cookie's got th' fire + goin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Mebby he rustled some grub out with him—I saw him tip-toein' out of + th' gallery this mornin' when I come back for my cigs,” remarked Hopalong, + glancing at Billy. + </p> + <p> + Billy groaned and made for the gallery. Emerging half a minute later he + blurted out his tale of woe: “Every time I blows myself an' don't drink it + all in town some slab-sided maverick freezes to it. It's gone,” he added, + dismally. + </p> + <p> + “Too bad, Billy—but what is it?” asked Skinny. + </p> + <p> + “What is it? Wha'd yu think it was, you emaciated match? Jewelry? Cayuses? + It's whisky—two simoleons' worth. Some-thin's allus wrong. This here + whole yearth's wrong, just like that cross-eyed sky pilot said over to—” + </p> + <p> + “Will yu let up?” Yelled Red, throwing a sombrero at the grumbling + unfortunate. “Yu ask Buck where yore tanglefoot is. + </p> + <p> + “I'd shore look nice askin' th' boss if he'd rustled my whisky, wouldn't + I? An' would yu mind throwin' somebody else's hat? I paid twenty wheels + for that eight years ago, and I don't want it mussed none.” + </p> + <p> + “Gee, yore easy! Why, Ah Sing, over at Albuquerque, gives them away every + time yu gits yore shirt washed,” gravely interposed Hopalong as he went + out to cuss the cook. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what'd yu think of that?” Exclaimed Billy in an injured tone. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yu needn't be hikin' for Albuquerque—WasheeWashee'ud charge yu + double for washin' yore shirt. Yu ought to fall in di' river some day—then + he might talk business,” called Hopalong over his shoulder as he heaved an + old boot into the gallery. “Hey, yu hibernatin' son of morphine, if yu + don't git them flapjacks in here pretty sudden-like I'll scatter yu all + over di' landscape, sabe? Yu just wait till Johnny comes!” + </p> + <p> + “Wonder where th' kid is?” asked Lanky, rolling a cigarette. “Off + somewhere lookin' at di' sun through di' bottom of my bottle,” grumbled + Billy. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong started to go out, but halted on the sill and looked steadily off + toward the northwest. “That's funny. Hey, fellows, here comes Buck an' + Johnny ridin' double—on a walk, too!” he exclaimed. “Wonder what th'—thunder! + Red, Buck's carryun' him! Somethin's busted!” he yelled, as he dashed for + his pony and made for the newcomers. + </p> + <p> + “I told yu he was hittin' my bottle,” pertly remarked Billy, as he + followed the rest outside. + </p> + <p> + “Did yu ever see Johnny drunk? Did yu ever see him drink more'n two + glasses? Shut yore wailin' face—they's somethin' worse'n that in + this here,” said Red, his temper rising. “Hopalong an' me took yore cheap + liquor—it's under Pete's bunk,” he added. + </p> + <p> + The trio approached on a walk and Johnny, delirious and covered with + blood, was carried into the bunk house. Buck waited until all had + assembled again and then, his face dark with anger, spoke sharply and + without the usual drawl: “Skragged from behind, blast them! Get some grub + an' water an' be quick. We'll see who the gent with th' grudge is.” + </p> + <p> + At this point the expostulations of the indignant cook, who, not + understanding the cause, regarded the invasion of china shop bulls as + sacrilegious, came to his ears. Striding quickly to the door, he grabbed + the pan the Mexican was about to throw and, turning the now frightened man + around, thundered, “Keep quiet an' get 'em some grub.” + </p> + <p> + When rifles and ammunition had been secured they mounted and followed him + at a hard gallop along the back trail. No words were spoken, for none were + necessary. All knew that they would not return until they had found the + man for whom they were looking, even if the chase led to Canada. They did + not ask Buck for any of the particulars, for the foreman was not in the + humor to talk, and all, save Hopalong, whose curiosity was always on edge, + recognized only two facts and cared for nothing else: Johnny had been + ambushed and they were going to get the one who was responsible. + </p> + <p> + They did not even conjecture as to who it might be, because the trail + would lead them to the man himself, and it mattered nothing who or what he + was—there was only one course to take with an assassin. So they said + nothing, but rode on with squared jaws and set lips, the seven ponies + breast to breast in a close arc. + </p> + <p> + Soon they came to an arroyo which they took at a leap. As they approached + it they saw signs in the dust which told them that a body had lain there + huddled up; and there were brown spots on the baked alkali. The trail they + followed was now single, Buck having ridden along the bank of the arroyo + when hunting for Johnny, for whom he had orders. This trail was very + irregular, as if the horse had wandered at will. Suddenly they came upon + five tracks, all pointing one way, and four of these turned abruptly and + disappeared in the northwest. Half a mile beyond the point of separation + was a chaparral, which was an important factor to them. + </p> + <p> + Each man knew just what had taken place as if he had been an eyewitness, + for the trail was plain. The assassins had waited in the chaparral for + Johnny to pass, probably having seen him riding that way. When he had + passed and his back had been turned to them they had fired and wounded him + severely at the first volley, for Johnny was of the stuff that fights back + and his revolvers had showed full chambers and clean barrels when Red had + examined them in the bunk house. Then they had given chase for a short + distance and, from some inexplicable motive, probably fear, they had + turned and ridden off without knowing how bad he was hit. It was this + trail that led to the northwest, and it was this trail that they followed + without pausing. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +When they had covered fifty miles they sighted the Cross Bar O ranch +where they hoped to secure fresh mounts. As they rode up to the ranch +house the owner, Bud Wallace, came around the corner and saw them. + + “Hullo, boys! What deviltry are yu up to now?” he asked. Buck +leaped from his mount, followed by the others, and shoved his sombrero +back on his head as he started to remove the saddle. +</pre> + <p> + “We're trailin' a bunch of murderers. They ambushed Johnny an' blame near + killed him. I stopped here to get fresh cayuses.” + </p> + <p> + “Yu did right!” replied Wallace heartily. Then raising his voice he + shouted to some of his men who were near the corral to bring up the seven + best horses they could rope. Then he told the cook to bring out plenty of + food and drink. + </p> + <p> + “I got four punchers what ain't doin' nothin' but eat,” he suggested. + </p> + <p> + “Much obliged, Wallace, but there's only four of 'em, an' we'd rather get + 'em ourselves—Johnny'ud feel better,” replied Buck, throwing his + saddle on the horse that was led up to him. + </p> + <p> + “How's yore cartridges—got plenty?” Persisted Wallace. + </p> + <p> + “Two hundred apiece,” responded Buck, springing into his saddle and riding + off. “So long,” he called. + </p> + <p> + “So long, an' plug blazes out of them,” shouted Wallace as the dust swept + over him. + </p> + <p> + At five in the afternoon they forded the Black River at a point where it + crossed the state line from New Mexico, and at dusk camped at the base of + the Guadalupe Mountains. At daybreak they took up the chase, grim and + merciless, and shortly afterward they passed the smoldering remains of a + camp fire, showing that the pursued had been in a great hurry, for it + should have been put out and masked. At noon they left the mountains to + the rear and sighted the Barred Horeshoe, which they approached. + </p> + <p> + The owner of the ranch saw them coming, and from their appearance surmised + that something was wrong. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” He shouted. “Rustlers?” + </p> + <p> + “Nope. Murderers. I wants to swap cayuses quick,” answered Buck. + </p> + <p> + “There they are. Th' boys just brought 'em in. Anything else I can let yu + have?” + </p> + <p> + “Nope,” shouted Buck as they galloped off. + </p> + <p> + “Somebody's goin' to get plugged full of holes,” murmured the ranch owner + as he watched them kicking up the dust in huge clouds. + </p> + <p> + After they had forded a tributary of the Rio Penasco near the Sacramento + Mountains and had surmounted the opposite bank, Hopalong spurred his horse + to the top of a hummock and swept the plain with Pete's field glasses, + which he had borrowed for the occasion, and returned to the rest, who had + kept on without slacking the pace. As he took up his former position he + grunted, “War-whoops,” and unslung his rifle, an example followed by the + others. + </p> + <p> + The ponies were now running at top speed, and as they shot over a rise + their riders saw their quarry a mile and a half in advance. One of the + Indians looked back and discharged his rifle in defiance, and it now + became a race worthy of the name—Death fled from Death. The fresher + mounts of the cowboys steadily cut down the distance and, as the rifles of + the pursuers began to speak, the hard-pressed Indians made for the smaller + of two knolls, the plain leading to the larger one being too heavily + strewn with bowlders to permit speed. + </p> + <p> + As the fugitives settled down behind the rocks which fringed the edge of + their elevation a shot from one of them disabled Billy's arm, but had no + other effect than to increase the score to be settled. The pursuers rode + behind a rise and dismounted, from where, leaving their mounts protected, + they scattered out to surround the knoll. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong, true to his curiosity, finally turned up on the highest point of + the other knoll, a spur of the range in the west, for he always wanted to + see all he could. Skinny, due to his fighting instinct, settled one + hundred yards to the north and on the same spur. Buck lay hidden behind an + enormous bowlder eight hundred yards to the northeast of Skinny, and the + same distance southeast of Buck was Red Connors, who was crawling up the + bed of an arroyo. Billy, nursing his arm, lay in front of the horses, and + Pete, from his position between Billy and Hopalong, was crawling from rock + to rock in an endeavor to get near enough to use his Colts, his favorite + and most effective weapons. Intermittent puffs of smoke arising from a + point between Skinny and Buck showed where Lanky Smith was improving each + shining hour. + </p> + <p> + There had been no directions given, each man choosing his own position, + yet each was of strategic worth. Billy protected the horses, Hopalong and + Skinny swept the knoll with a plunging fire, and Lanky and Buck lay in the + course the besieged would most likely take if they tried a dash. Off to + the east Red barred them from creeping down the arroyo, and from where + Pete was he could creep up to within sixty yards if he chose the right + rocks. The ranges varied from four hundred yards for Buck to sixty for + Pete, and the others averaged close to three hundred, which allowed very + good shooting on both sides. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong and Skinny gradually moved nearer to each other for + companionship, and as the former raised his head to see what the others + were doing he received a graze on the ear. + </p> + <p> + “Wow!” he yelled, rubbing the tingling member. + </p> + <p> + Two puffs of smoke floated up from the knoll, and Skinny swore. + </p> + <p> + “Where'd he get yu, Fat?” asked Hopalong. + </p> + <p> + “G'wan, don't get funny, son,” replied Skinny. + </p> + <p> + Jets of smoke arose from the north and east, where Buck and Red were + stationed, and Pete was half way to the knoll. So far he hadn't been hit + as he dodged in and out, and, emboldened by his luck, he made a run of + five yards and his sombrero was shot from his head. Another dash and his + empty holster was ripped from its support. As he crouched behind a rock he + heard a yell from Hopalong, and saw that interested individual waving his + sombrero to cheer him on. An angry pang! from the knoll caused that + enthusiastic rooter to drop for safety. + </p> + <p> + “Locoed son-of-a-gun,” complained Pete. “He'll shore git potted.” Then he + glanced at Billy, who was the center of several successive spurts of dust. + </p> + <p> + “How's business, Billy?” he called pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, they'll git me yet,” responded the pessimist. “Yu needn't git + anxious. If that off buck wasn't so green he'd 'a' had me long ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Ya-hoo! Pete! Oh, Pete!” called Hopalong, sticking his head out at one + side and grinning as the wondering object of his hail craned his neck to + see what the matter was. + </p> + <p> + “Huh?” grunted Pete, and then remembering the distance he shouted, “What's + th' matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Got any cigarettes?” asked Hopalong. + </p> + <p> + “Yu poor sheep!” said Pete, and turning back to work he drove a .45 into a + yellow moccasin. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong began to itch and he saw that he was near an ant hill. Then the + cactus at his right boomed out mournfully and a hole appeared in it. He + fired at the smoke and a yell informed him that he had made a hit. “Go + 'way!” he complained as a green fly buzzed past his nose. Then he + scratched each leg with the foot of the other and squirmed incessantly, + kicking out with both feet at once. A warning metallic whir-r-r! on his + left caused to yank them in again, and turning his head quickly he the + pleasure of lopping off the head of a rattlesnake with his Colt's. + </p> + <p> + “Glad yu wasn't a copperhead,” he exclaimed. “Somebody had ought 'a' shot + that fool Noah. Blast the ants!” He drowned with a jet of tobacco juice a + Gila monster that was staring at him and took a savage delight in its + frantic efforts to bury itself. + </p> + <p> + Soon he heard Skinny swear and he sung out: “What's the matter, Skinny? + Git plugged again?” + </p> + <p> + “Naw, bugs—ain't they mean?” Plaintively asked his friend. “They + ain't none over here. What kind of bugs?” + </p> + <p> + “Sufferin' Moses, I ain't no bugologist! All kinds!” + </p> + <p> + But Hopalong got it at last. He had found tobacco and rolled a cigarette, + and in reaching for a match exposed his shoulder to a shot that broke his + collar bone. Skinny's rifle cracked in reply and the offending brave + rolled out from behind a rock. From the fuss emanating from Hopalong's + direction Skinny knew that his neighbor had been hit. + </p> + <p> + “Don't yu care, Hoppy. I got th' cuss,” he said consolingly. “Where'd he + git yu?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “In di' heart, yu pie-faced nuisance. Come over here an' corral this + cussed bandage an' gimme some water,” snapped the injured man. + </p> + <p> + Skinny wormed his way through the thorny chaparral and bound up the + shoulder. “Anything else?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Shoot that bunch of warts an' blow that tobacco-eyed Gila to + Cheyenne. This here's worse than the time we cleaned out th' C 80 outfit!” + Then he kicked the dead toad and swore at the sun. + </p> + <p> + “Close yore yap; yore worse than a kid! Anybody'd think yu never got + plugged afore,” said Skinny indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “I can cuss all I wants,” replied Hopalong, proving his assertion as he + grabbed his gun and fired at the dead Indian. A bullet whined above his + head and Skinny fired at the smoke. He peeped out and saw that his friends + were getting nearer to the knoll. + </p> + <p> + “They's closin' in now. We'll soon be gittin' home,” he reported. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong looked out in time to see Buck make a dash for a bowlder that lay + ten yards in front of him, which he reached in safety. Lanky also ran in + and Pete added five more yards to his advance. Buck made another dash, but + leaped into the air, and, coming down as if from an intentional high jump, + staggered and stumbled for a few paces and then fell flat, rolling over + and over toward the shelter of a split rock, where he lay quiet. A leering + red face peered over the rocks on the knoll, but the whoop of exultation + was cut short, for Red's rifle cracked and the warrior rolled down the + steep bank, where another shot from the same gun settled him beyond + question. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong choked and, turning his face away, angrily dashed his knuckles + into his eyes. “Blast 'em! Blast 'em! They've got Buck! They've got Buck, + blast 'em! They've got Buck, Skinny! Good old Buck! They've got him! + Jimmy's gone, Johnny's plugged, and now Buck's gone! Come on!” he sobbed + in a frenzy of vengeance. “Come on, Skinny! We'll tear their cussed hides + into a deeper red than they are now! Oh, blast it, I can't see—where's + my gun?” He groped for the rifle and fought Skinny when the latter, + red-eyed but cool, endeavored to restrain him. “Lemme go, curse yu! Don't + yu know they got Buck? Lemme go!” + </p> + <p> + “Down! Red's got di' skunk. Yu can't do nothin'—they'd drop yu afore + yu took five steps. Red's got him, I tell yu! Do yu want me to lick yu? + We'll pay 'em back with interest if yu'll keep yore head!” exclaimed + Skinny, throwing the crazed man heavily. + </p> + <p> + Musical tones, rising and falling in weird octaves, whining pityingly, + diabolically, sobbing in a fascinating monotone and slobbering in ragged + chords, calling as they swept over the plain, always calling and + exhorting, they mingled in barbaric discord with the defiant barks of the + six-shooters and the inquiring cracks of the Winchesters. High up in the + air several specks sailed and drifted, more coming up rapidly from all + directions. Buzzards know well where food can be found. + </p> + <p> + As Hopalong leaned back against a rock he was hit in the thigh by a + ricochet that tore its way out, whirling like a circular saw, a span above + where it entered. The wound was very nasty, being ripped twice the size + made by an ordinary shot, and it bled profusely. Skinny crawled over and + attended to it, making a tourniquet of his neckerchief and clumsily + bandaging it with a strip torn from his shirt. + </p> + <p> + “Yore shore lucky, yu are,” he grumbled as he made his way back to his + post, where he vented his rancor by emptying the semi-depleted magazine of + his Winchester at the knoll. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong began to sing and shout and he talked of Jimmy and his childhood, + interspersing the broken narrative with choice selections as sung in the + music halls of Leavenworth and Abilene. He wound up by yelling and + struggling, and Skinny had his hands full in holding him. + </p> + <p> + “Hopalong! Cassidy! Come out of that! Keep quiet—yu'll shore git + plugged if yu don't stop that plungin'. For gosh sake, did yu hear that?” + A bullet viciously hissed between them and flattened out on a near-by + rock; others cut their way through the chaparral to the sound of falling + twigs, and Skinny threw himself on the struggling man and strapped + Hopalong with his belt to the base of a honey mesquite that grew at his + side. + </p> + <p> + “Hold still, now, and let that bandage alone. Yu allus goes off di' range + when yu gets plugged,” he complained. He cut down a cactus and poured the + sap over the wounded man's face, causing him to gurgle and look around. + His eyes had a sane look now and Skinny slid off his chest. + </p> + <p> + “Git that—belt loose; I ain't—no cow,” brokenly blazed out the + picketed Hopalong. Skinny did so, handed the irate man his Colts and + returned to his own post, from where he fired twice, reporting the shots. + </p> + <p> + “I'm tryin' to get him on th' glance' first one went high an' th' other + fell flat,” he explained. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong listened eagerly, for this was shooting that he could appreciate. + “Lemme see,” he commanded. Skinny dragged him over to a crack and settled + down for another try. + </p> + <p> + “Where is he, Skinny?” Asked Hopalong. + </p> + <p> + “Behind that second big one. No, over on this here side. See that smooth + granite? If I can get her there on th' right spot he'll shore know it.” He + aimed carefully and fired. + </p> + <p> + Through Pete's glasses Hopalong saw a leaden splotch appear on the rock + and he notified the marksman that he was shooting high. “Put her on that + bump closer down,” he suggested. Skinny did so and another yell reached + their ears. + </p> + <p> + “That's a dandy. Yore shore all right, yu old cuss,” complimented + Hopalong, elated at the success of the experiment. + </p> + <p> + Skinny fired again and a brown arm flopped out into sight. Another shot + struck it and it jerked as though it were lifeless. + </p> + <p> + “He's cashed. See how she jumped? Like a rope,” remarked Skinny with a + grin. The arm lay quiet. + </p> + <p> + Pete had gained his last cover and was all eyes and Colts. Lanky was also + very close in and was intently watching one particular rock. Several shots + echoed from the far side of the knoll and they knew that Red was all + right. Billy was covering a cluster of rocks that protruded above the + others and, as they looked, his rifle rang out and the last defender + leaped down and disappeared in the chaparral. He wore yellow trousers and + an old boiled shirt. + </p> + <p> + “By an'-by, by all that's bad!” yelled Hopalong. “Th' measly coyote! An' + me a-fillin' his ornery hide with liquor. Well, they'll have to find him + all over again now,” he complained, astounded by the revelation. He fired + into the chaparral to express his pugnacious disgust and scared out a huge + tarantula, which alighted on Skinny's chaps, crawling rapidly toward the + unconscious man's neck. Hopalong's face hardened and he slowly covered the + insect and fired, driving it into the sand, torn and lifeless. The bullet + touched the leathern garment and Skinny remonstrated, knowing that + Hopalong was in no condition for fancy shooting. + </p> + <p> + “Huh!” exclaimed Hopalong. “That was a tarantula what I plugged. He was + headin' for yore neck,” he explained, watching the chaparral with + apprehension. + </p> + <p> + “Go 'way, was it? Bully for yu!” exclaimed Skinny, tarantulas being placed + at par with rattlesnakes, and he considered that he had been saved from a + horrible death. “Thought yu said they wasn't no bugs over here,” he added + in an aggrieved tone. + </p> + <p> + “They wasn't none. Yu brought 'em. I only had th' main show—Gilas, + rattlers an' toads,” he replied, and then added, “Ain't it cussed hot up + here?” + </p> + <p> + “She is. Yu won't have no cinch ridin' home with that leg. Yu better take + my cayuse—he's busted more'n yourn,” responded Skinny. + </p> + <p> + “Yore cayuse is at th' Cross Bar O, yu wall-eyed pirute.” + </p> + <p> + “Shore 'nuff. Funny how a feller forgets sometimes. Lemme alone now, + they's goin' to git By-an'-by. Pete an' Lanky has just went in after him.” + </p> + <p> + That was what had occurred. The two impatient punchers, had grown tired of + waiting, and risked what might easily have been death in order to hasten + matters. The others kept up a rapid fire, directed at the far end of the + chaparral on the knoll, in order to mask the movements of their + venturesome friends, intending also to drive By-and-by toward them so that + he would be the one to get picked off as he advanced. + </p> + <p> + Several shots rang out in quick succession on the knoll and the chaparral + became agitated. Several more shots sounded from the depth of the thicket + and a mounted Indian dashed out of the northern edge and headed in Buck's + direction. His course would take him close to Buck, whom he had seen fall, + and would let him escape at a point midway between Red and Skinny, as + Lanky was on the knoll and the range was very far to allow effective + shooting by these two. + </p> + <p> + Red saw him leave the chaparral and in his haste to reload jammed the + cartridge, and By-and-by swept on toward temporary safety, with Red + dancing in a paroxysm of rage, swelling his vocabulary with words he had + forgotten existed. + </p> + <p> + By-and-by, rising to his full height in the saddle, turned and wiggled his + fingers at the frenzied Red and made several other signs that the cowboy + was in the humor to appreciate to the fullest extent. Then he turned and + shook his rifle at the marksmen on the larger knoll, whose best shots + kicked up the dust fully fifty yards too short. The pony was sweeping + toward the reservation and friends only fifteen miles away, and By-and-by + knew that once among the mountains he would be on equal footing at least + with his enemies. + </p> + <p> + As he passed the rock behind which Buck lay sprawled on his face he + uttered a piercing whoop of triumph and leaned forward on his pony's neck. + Twenty leaps farther and the spiteful crack of a rifle echoed from where + the foreman was painfully supporting himself on his elbows. The pony swept + on in a spurt of nerve-racking speed, but alone. By-and-by shrieked again + and crashed heavily to the ground, where he rolled inertly and then lay + still. Men like Buck are dangerous until their hearts have ceased to beat. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. Trials of the Convalescent + </h2> + <p> + The days at the ranch passed in irritating idleness for those who had + obstructed the flight of hostile lead, and worse than any of the patients + was Hopalong, who fretted and fumed at his helplessness, which retarded + his recovery. But at last the day came when he was fit for the saddle + again, and he gave notice of his joy in whoops and forthwith announced + that he was entitled to a holiday; and Buck had not the heart to refuse + him. + </p> + <p> + So he started forth in his quest of peace and pleasure, but instead had + found only trouble and had been forced to leave his card at almost every + place he had visited. + </p> + <p> + There was that affair in Red Hot Gulch, Colorado, where, under pressure, + he had invested sundry pieces of lead in the persons of several + obstreperous citizens and then had paced the zealous and excitable sheriff + to the state line. + </p> + <p> + He next was noticed in Cheyenne, where his deformity was vividly dwelt + upon, to the extent of six words, by one Tarantula Charley, the aforesaid + Charley not being able to proceed to greater length on account of heart + failure. As Charley had been a ubiquitous nuisance, those present availed + themselves of the opportunity offered by Hopalong to indulge in a free + drink. + </p> + <p> + Laramie was his next stopping place, and shortly after his arrival he was + requested to sing and dance by a local terror, who informed all present + that he was the only seventeen-buttoned rattlesnake in the cow country. + Hopalong, hurt and indignant at being treated like a common tenderfoot, + promptly knocked the terror down. After he had irrigated several square + feet of parched throats belonging to the audience he again took up his + journey and spent a day at Denver, where he managed to avoid any further + trouble. + </p> + <p> + Santa Fe loomed up before him several days later and he entered it shortly + before noon. At this time the old Spanish city was a bundle of high-strung + nerves, and certain parts of it were calculated to furnish any and all + kinds of excitement except revival meetings and church fairs. Hopalong + straddled a lively nerve before he had been in the city an hour. Two local + bad men, Slim Travennes and Tex Ewalt, desiring to establish the fact that + they were roaring prairie fires, attempted to consume the placid and + innocent stranger as he limped across the plaza in search of a game of + draw poker at the Black Hills Emporium, with the result that they needed + repairs, to the chagrin and disgust of their immediate acquaintances, who + endeavored to drown their mortification and sorrow in rapid but somewhat + wild gun play, and soon remembered that they had pressing engagements + elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong reloaded his guns and proceeded to the Emporium, where he found a + game all prepared for him in every sense of the word. On the third deal he + objected to the way in which the dealer manipulated the cards, and when + the smoke cleared away he was the only occupant of the room, except a dog + belonging to the bartender that had intercepted a stray bullet. + </p> + <p> + Hunting up the owner of the hound, he apologized for being the indirect + cause of the animal's death, deposited a sum of Mexican dollars in that + gentleman's palm and went on his way to Alameda, which he entered shortly + after dark, and where an insult, simmering in its uncalled-for venom, met + him as he limped across the floor of the local dispensary on his way to + the bar. There was no time for verbal argument and precedent had + established the manner of his reply, and his repartee was as quick as + light and most effective. Having resented the epithets he gave his + attention to the occupants of the room. + </p> + <p> + Smoke drifted over the table in an agitated cloud and dribbled lazily + upward from the muzzle of his six-shooter, while he looked searchingly at + those around him. Strained and eager faces peered at his opponent, who was + sliding slowly forward in his chair, and for the length of a minute no + sound but the guarded breathing of the onlookers could be heard. This was + broken by a nervous cough from the rear of the room, and the faces assumed + their ordinary nonchalant expressions, their rugged lines heavily shadowed + in the light of the flickering oil lamps, while the shuffling of cards and + the clink of silver became audible. Hopalong Cassidy had objected to + insulting remarks about his affliction. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong was very sensitive about his crippled leg and was always prompt + to resent any scorn or curiosity directed at it, especially when emanating + from strangers. A young man of twenty-three years, when surrounded by + nearly perfect specimens of physical manhood, is apt to be painfully + self-conscious of any such defect, and it reacted on his nature at times, + even though he was well-known for his happy-go-lucky disposition and + playfulness. He consoled himself with the knowledge that what he lost in + symmetry was more than balanced by the celerity and certainty of his gun + hand, which was right or left, or both, as the occasion demanded. + </p> + <p> + Several hours later, as his luck was vacillating, he felt a heavy hand on + his shoulder, and was overjoyed at seeing Buck and Red, the latter + grinning as only Red could grin, and he withdrew from the game to enjoy + his good fortune. + </p> + <p> + While Hopalong had been wandering over the country the two friends had + been hunting for him and had traced him successfully, that being due to + the trail he had blazed with his six-shooters. This they had accomplished + without harm to themselves, as those of whom they inquired thought that + they must want Hopalong “bad,” and cheerfully gave the information + required. + </p> + <p> + They had started out more for the purpose of accompanying him for + pleasure, but that had changed to an urgent necessity in the following + manner: + </p> + <p> + While on the way from Denver to Santa Fe they had met Pete Willis of the + Three Triangle, a ranch that adjoined their own, and they paused to pass + the compliments of the season. + </p> + <p> + “Purty far from th' grub wagon, Pie,” remarked Buck. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm only goin' to Denver,” responded Pie. + </p> + <p> + “Purty hot,” suggested Red. + </p> + <p> + “She shore is. Seen anybody yu knows?” Pie asked. + </p> + <p> + “One or two—Billy of th' Star Crescent an' Panhandle Lukins,” + answered Buck. + </p> + <p> + “That so? Panhandle's goin' to punch for us next year. I'll hunt him up. I + heard down south of Albuquerque that Thirsty Jones an' his brothers are + lookin' for trouble,” offered Pie. + </p> + <p> + “Yah! They ain't lookin' for no trouble—they just goes around + blowin' off. Trouble? Why, they don't know what she is,” remarked Red + contemptuously. + </p> + <p> + “Well, they's been dodgin' th' sheriff purty lively lately, an' if that + ain't trouble I don't know what is,” said Pie. + </p> + <p> + “It shore is, an' hard to dodge,” acquiesced Buck. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I has to amble. Is Panhandle in Denver? Yes? I calculates as how me + an' him'll buck th' tiger for a whirl—he's shore lucky. Well, so + long,” said Pie as he moved on. + </p> + <p> + “So long,” responded the two. + </p> + <p> + “Hey, wait a minute,” yelled Pie after he had ridden a hundred yards. “If + yu sees Hopalong yu might tell him that th' Joneses are goin' to hunt him + up when they gits to Albuquerque. They's shore sore on him. 'Tain't none + of my funeral, only they ain't always a-carin' how they goes after a + feller. So long,” and soon he was a cloud of dust on the horizon. + </p> + <p> + “Trouble!” snorted Red; “well, between dodgin' Harris an' huntin' Hopalong + I reckons they'll shore find her.” Then to himself he murmured, “Funny how + everythin' comes his way.” + </p> + <p> + “That's gospel shore enough, but, as Pie said, they ain't a whole lot + particular as how they deal th' cards. We better get a move on an' find + that ornery little cuss,” replied Buck. + </p> + <p> + “O. K., only I ain't losin' no sleep about Hoppy. His gun's too lively for + me to do any worryin',” asserted Red. + </p> + <p> + “They'll get lynched some time, shore,” declared Buck. + </p> + <p> + “Not if they find Hoppy,” grimly replied Red. + </p> + <p> + They tore through Santa Fe, only stopping long enough to wet their + throats, and after several hours of hard riding entered Alameda, where + they found Hopalong in the manner narrated. + </p> + <p> + After some time the three left the room and headed for Albuquerque, twelve + miles to the south. At ten o'clock they dismounted before the Nugget and + Rope, an unpainted wooden building supposed to be a clever combination of + barroom, dance and gambling hall and hotel. The cleverness lay in the man + who could find the hotel part. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. The Open Door + </h2> + <p> + The proprietor of the Nugget and Rope, a German named Baum, not being + troubled with police rules, kept the door wide open for the purpose of + inviting trade, a proceeding not to the liking of his patrons for obvious + reasons. Probably not one man in ten was fortunate enough to have no one + “looking for him,” and the lighted interior assured good hunting to any + one in the dark street. He was continually opening the door, which every + newcomer promptly and forcibly slammed shut. When he saw men walk across + the room for the express purpose of slamming it he began to cherish the + idea that there was a conspiracy on foot to anger him and thus force him + to bring about his own death. + </p> + <p> + After the door had been slammed three times in one evening by one man, the + last slam being so forcible as to shake two bottles from the shelf and to + crack the door itself, he became positive that his suspicions were + correct, and so was very careful to smile and take it as a joke. Finally, + wearied by his vain efforts to keep it open and fearing for the door, he + hit upon a scheme, the brilliancy of which inflated his chest and gave him + the appearance of a prize-winning bantam. When his patrons strolled in + that night there was no door to slam, as it lay behind the bar. + </p> + <p> + When Buck and Red entered, closely followed by Hopalong, they elbowed + their way to the rear of the room, where they could see before being seen. + As yet they had said nothing to Hopalong about Pie's warning and were + debating in their minds whether they should do so or not, when Hopalong + interrupted their thoughts by laughing. They looked up and he nodded + toward the front, where they saw that anxious eyes from all parts of the + room were focused on the open door. Then they noticed that it had been + removed. + </p> + <p> + The air of semi-hostile, semi-anxious inquiry of the patrons and the smile + of satisfaction covering the face of Baum appealed to them as the most + ludicrous sight their eyes had seen for months, and they leaned back and + roared with laughter, thus calling forth sundry looks of disapproval from + the innocent causes of their merriment. But they were too well known in + Albuquerque to allow the disapproval to approach a serious end, and + finally, as the humorous side of the situation dawned on the crowd, they + joined in the laugh and all went merrily. + </p> + <p> + At the psychologic moment some one shouted for a dance and the suggestion + met with uproarious approval. At that moment Harris, the sheriff, came in + and volunteered to supply the necessary music if the crowd would pay the + fine against a straying fiddler he had corraled the day before. A hat was + quickly passed and a sum was realized which would pay several fines to + come and Harris departed for the music. + </p> + <p> + A chair was placed on the bar for the musician and, to the tune of “Old + Dan Tucker” and an assortment of similar airs, the board floor shook and + trembled. It was a comical sight and Hopalong, the only wallflower besides + Baum and the sheriff, laughed until he became weak. Cow punchers play as + they work, hard and earnestly, and there was plenty of action. Sombreros + flapped like huge wings and the baggy chaps looked like small, distorted + balloons. + </p> + <p> + The Virginia reel was a marvel of supple, exaggerated grace and the + quadrille looked like a free-for-all for unbroken colts. The honor of + prompter was conferred upon the sheriff, and he gravely called the changes + as they were usually called in that section of the country: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Oh, th' ladies trail in + An' th' gents trail out, + An' all stampede down th' middle. + If yu ain't got th' tin + Yu can dance an' shout, + But yu must keep up with th' fiddle.” + </pre> + <p> + As the dance waxed faster and the dancers grew hotter Hopalong, feeling + lonesome because he wouldn't face ridicule, even if it was not expressed, + went over and stood by the sheriff. He and Harris were good friends, for + he had received the wound that crippled him in saving the sheriff from + assassination. Harris killed the man who had fired that shot, and from + this episode on the burning desert grew a friendship that was as strong as + their own natures. + </p> + <p> + Harris was very well liked by the majority and feared by the rest, for he + was a square man and the best sheriff the county had ever known. Quiet and + unassuming, small of stature and with a kind word for every one, he was a + universal favorite among the better class of citizens. Quick as a flash + and unerring in his shooting, he was a nightmare to the “bad men.” No + profane word had ever been known to leave his lips, and he was the + possessor of a widespread reputation for generosity. His face was + naturally frank and open; but when his eyes narrowed with determination it + became blank and cold. When he saw his young friend sidle over to him he + smiled and nodded a hearty welcome. + </p> + <p> + “They's shore cuttin' her loose,” remarked Hopalong. + </p> + <p> + “First two pairs forward an' back!—they shore is,” responded the + prompter. + </p> + <p> + “Who's th' gent playin' lady to Buck?” Queried Hopalong. + </p> + <p> + “Forward again an' ladies change!—Billy Jordan.” + </p> + <p> + Hopalong watched the couple until they swung around and then he laughed + silently. “Buck's got too many feet,” he seriously remarked to his friend. + </p> + <p> + “Swing th' girl yu loves th' best!—he ain't lonesome, look at that—” + </p> + <p> + Two shots rang out in quick succession and Harris stumbled, wheeled and + pitched forward on his face as Hopalong's sombrero spun across his body. + For a second there was an intense silence, heavy, strained and sickening. + Then a roar broke forth and the crowd of frenzied merry-makers, headed by + Hopalong, poured out into the street and spread out to search the town. As + daylight dawned the searchers began to straggle back with the same report + of failure. Buck and Red met on the street near the door and each looked + questioningly at the other. Each shook his head and looked around, their + fingers toying absentmindedly at their belts. Finally Buck cleared his + throat and remarked casually, + </p> + <p> + “Mebby he's following 'em.” + </p> + <p> + Red nodded and they went over toward their horses. As they were hesitating + which route to take, Billy Jordan came up. + </p> + <p> + “Mebby yu'd like to see yore pardner—he's out by Buzzard's Spring. + We'll take care of him,” jerking his thumb over his shoulder toward the + saloon where Harris's body lay. “And we'll all git th' others later. They + cain't git away for long.” + </p> + <p> + Buck and Red nodded and headed for Buzzard's Spring. As they neared the + water hole they saw Hopalong sitting on a rock, his head resting in one + hand while the other hung loosely from his knee. He did not notice them + when they arrived, and with a ready tact they sat quietly on their horses + and looked in every direction except toward him. The sun became a ball of + molten fire and the sand flies annoyed them incessantly, but still they + sat and waited, silent and apologetic. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong finally arose, reached for his sombrero, and, finding it gone, + swore long and earnestly at the scene its loss brought before him. He + walked over to his horse and, leaping into the saddle, turned and faced + his friends. “Yu old sons-of-guns,” he said. They looked sheepish and + nodded negatively in answer to the look of inquiry in his eyes. “They + ain't got 'em yet,” remarked Red slowly. Hopalong straightened up, his + eyes narrowed and his face became hard and resolute as he led the way back + toward the town. + </p> + <p> + Buck rode up beside him and, wiping his face with his shirt sleeve, began + to speak to Red. “We might look up th' Joneses, Red. They had been dodgin' + th' sheriff purty lively lately, an' they was huntin' Hopalong. Ever since + we had to kill their brother in Buckskin they has been yappin' as how they + was goin' to wipe us out. Hopalong an' Harris was standin' clost together + an' they tried for both. They shot twice, one for Harris an' one for + Hopalong, an' what more do yu want?” + </p> + <p> + “It shore looks thataway, Buck,” replied Red, biting into a huge plug of + tobacco which he produced from his chaps. “Anyhow, they wouldn't be no + loss if they didn't. Member what Pie said?” + </p> + <p> + Hopalong looked straight ahead, and when he spoke the words sounded as + though he had bitten them off: “Yore right, Buck, but I gits first try at + Thirsty. He's my meat an' I'll plug th' fellow what says he ain't. Damn + him!” + </p> + <p> + The others replied by applying their spurs, and in a short time they + dismounted before the Nugget and Rope. Thirsty wouldn't have a chance to + not care how he dealt the cards. + </p> + <p> + Buck and Red moved quickly through the crowd, speaking fast and earnestly. + When they returned to where they had left their friend they saw him half a + block away and they followed slowly, one on either side of the street. + There would be no bullets in his back if they knew what they were about, + and they usually did. + </p> + <p> + As Hopalong neared the corner, Thirsty and his two brothers turned it and + saw him. Thirsty said something in a low voice, and the other two walked + across the street and disappeared behind the store. When assured that they + were secure, Thirsty walked up to a huge boulder on the side of the street + farthest from the store and turned and faced his enemy, who approached + rapidly until about five paces away, when he slowed up and finally + stopped. + </p> + <p> + For a number of seconds they sized each other up, Hopalong quiet and + deliberate with a deadly hatred; Thirsty pale and furtive with a sensation + hitherto unknown to him. It was Right meeting Wrong, and Wrong lost + confidence. Often had Thirsty Jones looked death in the face and laughed, + but there was something in Hopalong's eyes that made his flesh creep. + </p> + <p> + He glanced quickly past his foe and took in the scene with one flash of + his eyes. There was the crowd, eager, expectant, scowling. There were Buck + and Red, each lounging against a boulder, Buck on his right, Red on his + left. Before him stood the only man he had ever feared. Hopalong shifted + his feet and Thirsty, coming to himself with a start, smiled. His nerve + had been shaken, but he was master of himself once more. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” he snarled, scowling. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong made no response, but stared him in the eyes. + </p> + <p> + Thirsty expected action, and the deadly quiet of his enemy oppressed him. + He stared in turn, but the insistent searching of his opponent's eyes + scorched him and he shifted his gaze to Hopalong's neck. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” he repeated uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “Did yu have a nice time at th' dance last night?” Asked Hopalong, still + searching the face before him. + </p> + <p> + “Was there a dance? I was over in Alameda,” replied Thirsty shortly. + </p> + <p> + “Ya-as, there was a dance, an' yu can shoot purty durn far if yu was in + Alameda,” responded Hopalong, his voice low and monotonous. + </p> + <p> + Thirsty shifted his feet and glanced around. Buck and Red were still + lounging against their bowlders and apparently were not paying any + attention to the proceedings. His fickle nerve came back again, for he + knew he would receive fair play. So he faced Hopalong once more and + regarded him with a cynical smile. + </p> + <p> + “Yu seems to worry a whole lot about me. Is it because yu has a tender + feelin', or because it's none of yore blame business?” He asked + aggressively. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong paled with sudden anger, but controlled himself. + </p> + <p> + “It's because yu murdered Harris,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “Shoo! An' how does yu figger it out?” Asked Thirsty, jauntily. + </p> + <p> + “He was huntin' yu hard an' yu thought yu'd stop it, so yu came in to lay + for him. When yu saw me an' him together yu saw di' chance to wipe out + another score. That's how I figger it out,” replied Hopalong quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Yore a reg'lar 'tective, ain't yu?” Thirsty asked ironically. + </p> + <p> + “I've got common sense,” responded Hopalong. + </p> + <p> + “Yu has? Yu better tell th' rest that, too,” replied Thirsty. + </p> + <p> + “I know yu shot Harris, an' yu can't get out of it by makin' funny + remarks. Anyhow, yu won't be much loss, an' th' stage company'll feel + better, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Shoo! An' suppose I did shoot him, I done a good job, didn't I?” + </p> + <p> + “Yu did the worst job yu could do, yu highway robber,” softly said + Hopalong, at the same time moving nearer. “Harris knew yu stopped th' + stage last month, an' that's why yu've been dodgin' him.” + </p> + <p> + “Yore a liar!” shouted Thirsty, reaching for his gun. + </p> + <p> + The movement was fatal, for before he could draw, the Colt in Hopalong's + holster leaped out and flashed from its owner's hip and Thirsty fell + sideways, face down in the dust of the street. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong started toward the fallen man, but as he did so a shot rang out + from behind the store and he pitched forward, stumbled and rolled behind + the bowlder. As he stumbled his left hand streaked to his hip, and when he + fell he had a gun in each hand. + </p> + <p> + As he disappeared from sight Goodeye and Bill Jones stepped from behind + the store and started to run away. Not able to resist the temptation to + look again, they stopped and turned and Bill laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Easy as sin,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Run, yu fool—Red an' Buck'll be here. Want to git plugged?” shouted + Goodeye angrily. + </p> + <p> + They turned and started for a group of ponies twenty yards away, and as + they leaped into the saddles two shots were fired from the street. As the + reports died away Buck and Red turned the corner of the store, Colts in + hand, and, checking their rush as they saw the saddles emptied, they + turned toward the street and saw Hopalong, with blood oozing from an + abrasion on his cheek, sitting up cross-legged, with each hand holding a + gun, from which came thin wisps of smoke. + </p> + <p> + “Th' son-of-a-gun!” cried Buck, proud and delighted. + </p> + <p> + “Th' son-of-a-gun!” echoed Red, grinning. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. Hopalong Keeps His Word + </h2> + <p> + The waters of the Rio Grande slid placidly toward the Gulf, the hot sun + branding the sleepy waters with streaks of molten fire. To the north arose + from the gray sandy plain the Quitman Mountains, and beyond them lay Bass + Ca on. From the latter emerged a solitary figure astride a broncho, and as + he ascended the topmost rise he glanced below him at the placid stream and + beyond it into Mexico. As he sat quietly in his saddle he smiled and + laughed gently to himself. The trail he had just followed had been replete + with trouble which had suited the state of his mind and he now felt + humorous, having cleaned up a pressing debt with his six-shooter. Surely + there ought to be a mild sort of excitement in the land he faced, + something picturesque and out of the ordinary. This was to be the + finishing touch to his trip, and he had left his two companions at + Albuquerque in order that he might have to himself all that he could find. + </p> + <p> + Not many miles to the south of him lay the town which had been the + rendezvous of Tamale Jose, whose weakness had been a liking for other + people's cattle. Well he remembered his first man hunt: the discovery of + the theft, the trail and pursuit and—the ending. He was scarcely + eighteen years of age when that event took place, and the wisdom he had + absorbed then had stood him in good stead many times since. He had even + now a touch of pride at the recollection how, when his older companions + had failed to get Tamale Jose, he with his undeveloped strategy had gained + that end. The fight would never be forgotten, as it was his first, and no + sight of wounds would ever affect him as did those of Red Connors as he + lay huddled up in the dark corner of that old adobe hut. + </p> + <p> + He came to himself and laughed again as he thought of Carmencita, the + first girl he had ever known—and the last. With a boy's impetuosity + he had wooed her in a manner far different from that of the peons who sang + beneath her window and talked to her mother. He had boldly scaled the wall + and did his courting in her house, trusting to luck and to his own ability + to avoid being seen. No hidden meaning lay in his words; he spoke from his + heart and with no concealment. And he remembered the treachery that had + forced him, fighting, to the camp of his outfit; and when he had returned + with his friends she had disappeared. + </p> + <p> + To this day he hated that mud-walled convent and those sisters who so + easily forgot how to talk. The fragrance of the old days wrapped + themselves around him, and although he had ceased to pine for his + black-eyed Carmencita-well, it would be nice if he chanced to see her + again. Spurring his mount into an easy canter he swept down to and across + the river, fording it where he had crossed it when pursuing Tamale Jose. + </p> + <p> + The town lay indolent under the Mexican night, and the strumming of + guitars and the tinkle of spurs and tiny bells softly echoed from several + houses. The convent of St. Maria lay indistinct in its heavy shadows and + the little church farther up the dusty street showed dim lights in its + stained windows. Off to the north became audible the rhythmic beat of a + horse and soon a cowboy swept past the convent with a mocking bow. + </p> + <p> + He clattered across the stone-paved plaza and threw his mount back on its + haunches as he stopped before a house. Glancing around and determining to + find out a few facts as soon as possible, he rode up to the low door and + pounded upon it with the butt of his Colt. After waiting for possibly half + a minute and receiving no response he hammered a tune upon it with two + Colts and had the satisfaction of seeing half a score of heads protrude + from the windows in the nearby houses. + </p> + <p> + “If I could scare up another gun I might get th' whole blamed town up,” he + grumbled whimsically, and fell on the door with another tune. + </p> + <p> + “Who is it?” came from within. The voice was distinctly feminine and + Hopalong winked to himself in congratulation. + </p> + <p> + “Me,” he replied, twirling his fingers from his nose at the curious, + forgetting that the darkness hid his actions from sight. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know; but who is 'me'?” Came from the house. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't I a fool!” he complained to himself, and raising his voice he + replied coaxingly, “Open th' door a bit an' see. Are yu Carmencita?” + </p> + <p> + “O-o-o! but you must tell me who it is first.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Cassidy,” he replied, flushing at the 'mister,' “an' I wants to see + Carmencita.” + </p> + <p> + “Carmencita who?” teasingly came from behind the door. Hopalong scratched + his head. “Gee, yu've roped me—I suppose she has got another handle. + Oh, yu know—she used to live here about seven years back. She had + great big black eyes, pretty cheeks an' a mouth that 'ud stampede anybody. + Don't yu know now? She was about so high,” holding out his hands in the + darkness. + </p> + <p> + The door opened a trifle on a chain and Hopalong peered eagerly forward. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, it is you, the brave Americano! You must go away quick or you will + meet with harm. Manuel is awfully jealous and he will kill you! Go at + once, please!” + </p> + <p> + Hopalong pulled at the half-hearted down upon his lip and laughed softly. + Then he slid the guns back in their holsters and felt for his sombrero. + </p> + <p> + “Manuel wants to see me first, Star Eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “No! no!” she replied, stamping upon the floor vehemently. “You must go + now—at once!” + </p> + <p> + “I'd shore look nice hittin' th' trail because Manuel Somebody wants to + get hurt, wouldn't I? Don't yu remember how I used to shinny up this here + wall an' skin th' cat gettin' through that hole up there what yu said was + a window? Ah, come on an' open th' door—I'd shore like to see yu + again!” pleaded the irrepressible. + </p> + <p> + “No! no! Go away. Oh, won't you please go away!” + </p> + <p> + Hopalong sighed audibly and turned his horse. As he did so he heard the + door open and a sigh reached his ears. He wheeled like a flash and found + the door closed again on its chain. A laugh of delight came from behind + it. + </p> + <p> + “Come out, please!—just for a minute,” he begged, wishing that he + was brave enough to smash the door to splinters and grab her. + </p> + <p> + “If I do, will you go away?” Asked the girl. “Oh, what will Manuel say if + he comes? And all those people, they'll tell him!” + </p> + <p> + “Hey, yu!” shouted Hopalong, brandishing his Colts at the protruding + heads. “Git scarce! I'll shore plug th' last one in!” Then he laughed at + the sudden vanishing. + </p> + <p> + The door slowly opened and Carmencita, fat and drowsy, wobbled out to him. + Hopalong's feelings were interfering with his breathing as he surveyed + her. “Oh, yu shore are mistaken, Mrs. Carmencita. I wants to see yore + daughter!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you have forgotten the little Carmencita who used to look for you. + Like all the men, you have forgotten,” she cooed reproachfully. Then her + fear predominated again and she cried, “Oh, if my husband should see me + now!” + </p> + <p> + Hopalong mastered his astonishment and bowed. He had a desire to ride + madly into the Rio Grande and collect his senses. + </p> + <p> + “Yu are right—this is too dangerous—I'll amble on some,” he + replied hastily. Under his breath he prayed that the outfit would never + learn of this. He turned his horse and rode slowly up the street as the + door closed. + </p> + <p> + Rounding the corner he heard a soft footfall, and swerving in his saddle + he turned and struck with all his might in the face of a man who leaped at + him, at the same time grasping the uplifted wrist with his other hand. A + curse and the tinkle of thin steel on the pavement accompanied the fall of + his opponent. Bending down from his saddle he picked up the weapon and the + next minute the enraged assassin was staring into the unwavering and, to + him, growing muzzle of a Colt's .45. + </p> + <p> + “Yu shore had a bum teacher. Don't yu know better'n to push it in? An' me + a cowpuncher, too! I'm most grieved at yore conduct—it shows you + don't appreciate cow-wrastlers. This is safer,” he remarked, throwing the + stiletto through the air and into a door, where it rang out angrily and + quivered. “I don't know as I wants to ventilate yu; we mostly poisons + coyotes up my way,” he added. Then a thought struck him. “Yu must be that + dear Manuel I've been hearin' so much about?” + </p> + <p> + A snarl was the only reply and Hopalong grinned. + </p> + <p> + “Yu shore ain't got no call to go loco that way, none whatever. I don't + want yore Carmencita. I only called to say hulloo,” responded Hopalong, + his sympathies being aroused for the wounded man before him from his vivid + recollection of the woman who had opened the door. + </p> + <p> + “Yah!” snarled Manuel. “You wants to poison my little bird. You with your + fair hair and your cursed swagger!” + </p> + <p> + The six-shooter tentatively expanded and stopped six inches from the + Mexican's nose. “Yu wants to ride easy, hombre. I ain't no angel, but I + don't poison no woman; an' don't yu amble off with th' idea in yore head + that she wants to be poisoned. Why, she near stuck a knife in me!” he + lied. + </p> + <p> + The Mexican's face brightened somewhat, but it would take more than that + to wipe out the insult of the blow. The horse became restless, and when + Hopalong had effectively quieted it he spoke again. + </p> + <p> + “Did yu ever hear of Tamale Jose?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm th' fellow that stopped him in th' 'dobe hut by th' arroyo. I'm + tellin' yu this so yu won't do nothin' rash an' leave Carmencita a widow. + Sabe?” + </p> + <p> + The hate on the Mexican's face redoubled and he took a short step forward, + but stopped when the muzzle of the Colt kissed his nose. He was the + brother of Tamale Jose. As he backed away from the cool touch of the + weapon he thought out swiftly his revenge. Some of his brother's old + companions were at that moment drinking mescal in a saloon down the + street, and they would be glad to see this Americano die. He glanced past + his house at the saloon and Hopalong misconstrued his thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “Shore, go home. I'll just circulate around some for exercise. No hard + feelings, only yu better throw it next time,” he said as he backed away + and rode off. Manuel went down the street and then ran into the saloon, + where he caused an uproar. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong rode to the end of the plaza and tried to sing, but it was a + dismal failure. Then he felt thirsty and wondered why he hadn't thought of + it before. Turning his horse and seeing the saloon he rode up to it and + in, lying flat on the animal's neck to avoid being swept off by the door + frame. His entrance scared white some half a dozen loungers, who + immediately sprang up in a decidedly hostile manner. Hopalong's Colts + peeped over the ears of his horse and he backed into a corner near the + bar. + </p> + <p> + “One, two, three—now, altogether, breathe! Yu acts like yu never saw + a real puncher afore. All th' same,” he remarked, nodding at several of + the crowd, “I've seen yu afore. Yu are th' gents with th' hot-foot + get-a-way that vamoosed when we got Tamale.” + </p> + <p> + Curses were flung at him and only the humorous mood he was in saved + trouble. One, bolder than the rest, spoke up: “The senor will not see any + 'hot-foot get-a-way,' as he calls it, now! The senor was not wise to go so + far away from his friends!”' + </p> + <p> + Hopalong looked at the speaker and a quizzical grin slowly spread over his + face. “They'll shore feel glad when I tells them yu was askin' for 'em. + But didn't yu see too much of 'em once, or was yu poundin' leather in the + other direction? Yu don't want to worry none about me—an' if yu + don't get yore hands closter to yore neck they'll be heck to pay! There, + that's more like home,” he remarked, nodding assurance. + </p> + <p> + Reaching over he grasped a bottle and poured out a drink, his Colt + slipping from his hand and dangling from his wrist by a thong. As the + weapon started to fall several of the audience involuntarily moved as if + to pick it up. Hopalong noticed this and paused with the glass half way to + his lips. “Don't bother yoreselves none; I can git it again,” he said, + tossing off the liquor. + </p> + <p> + “Wow! Holy smoke!” he yelled. “This ain't drink! Sufferin' coyotes, nobody + can accuse yu of sellin' liquor! Did yu make this all by yoreself?” He + asked incredulously of the proprietor, who didn't know whether to run or + to pray. Then he noticed that the crowd was spreading out and his Colts + again became the center of interest. + </p> + <p> + “Yu with th' lovely face, sit down!” he ordered as the person addressed + was gliding toward the door. “I ain't a-goin' to let yu pot me from th' + street. Th' first man who tries to get scarce will stop somethin' hot. An' + yu all better sit down,” he suggested, sweeping them with his guns. One + man, more obdurate than the rest, was slow in complying and Hopalong sent + a bullet through the top of his high sombrero, which had a most gratifying + effect. + </p> + <p> + “You'll regret this!” hissed a man in the rear, and a murmur of assent + arose. Some one stirred slightly in searching for a weapon and immediately + a blazing Colt froze him into a statue. + </p> + <p> + “Yu shore looks funny; eeny, meeny, miny, mo,” counted off the daring + horseman; “move a bit an' off yu go,” he finished. Then his face broke out + in another grin as he thought of more enjoyment. + </p> + <p> + “That there gent on th' left,” he said, pointing out with a gun the man he + meant. “Yu sing us a song. Sing a nice little song.” + </p> + <p> + As the object of his remarks remained mute he let his thumb ostentatiously + slide back with the hammer of the gun under it. “Sing! Quick!” The man + sang. + </p> + <p> + As Hopalong leaned forward to say something a stiletto flashed past his + neck and crashed into the bottle beside him. The echo of the crash was + merged into a report as Hopalong fired from his waist. Then he backed out + into the Street and, wheeling, galloped across the plaza and again faced + the saloon. A flash split the darkness and a bullet hummed over his head + and thudded into an adobe wall at his back. Another shot and he replied, + aiming at the flash. + </p> + <p> + From down the Street came the sound of a window opening and he promptly + caused it to close again. Several more windows opened and hastily closed, + and he rode slowly toward the far end of the plaza. As he faced the saloon + once more he heard a command to throw up his hands and saw the glint of a + gun, held by a man who wore the insignia of sheriff. Hopalong complied, + but as his hands went up two spurts of fire shot forth and the sheriff + dropped his weapon, reeled and sat down. Hopalong rode over to him and + swinging down, picked up the gun and looked the officer over. + </p> + <p> + “Shoo, yu'll be all right soon—yore only plugged in th' arms,” he + remarked as he glanced up the street. Shadowy forms were gliding from + cover to cover and he immediately caused consternation among them by his + accuracy. “Ain't it sad?” He complained to the wounded man. “I never + starts out but what somebody makes me shoot 'em. Came down here to see a + girl an' find she's married. Then when I moves on peaceable—like her + husband makes me hit him. Then I wants a drink an' he goes an' fans a + knife at me, an' me just teachin' him how! Then yu has to come along an' + make more trouble”. + </p> + <p> + “Now look at them fools over there,” he said, pointing at a dark shadow + some fifty paces off. “They're pattin' their backs because I don't see + 'em, an' if I hurts them they'll git mad. Guess I'll make 'em dust along,” + he added, shooting into the spot. A howl went up and two men ran away at + top speed. + </p> + <p> + The sheriff nodded his sympathy and spoke. “I reckons you had better give + up. You can't get away. Every house, every corner and shadow holds a man. + You are a brave man, but, as you say, unfortunate. Better help me up and + come with me—they'll tear you to pieces.” + </p> + <p> + “Shore I'll help yu up—I ain't got no grudge against nobody. But my + friends know where I am an' they'll come down here an' raise a ruction if + I don't show up. So, if it's all th' same to you, I'll be ambling right + along,” he said as he helped the sheriff to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Have you any objections to telling me your name?” Asked the sheriff as he + looked himself over. + </p> + <p> + “None whatever,” answered Hopalong heartily. “I'm Hopalong Cassidy of th' + Bar 20, Texas.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't surprise me—I've heard of you,” replied the sheriff + wearily. “You are the man who killed Tamale Jose, whom I hunted for + unceasingly. I found him when you had left and I got the reward. Come + again some time and I'll divide with you; two hundred and fifty dollars,” + he added craftily. + </p> + <p> + “I shore will, but I don't want no money,” replied Hopalong as he turned + away. “Adios, senor,” he called back. + </p> + <p> + “Adios,” replied the sheriff as he kicked a nearby door for assistance. + </p> + <p> + The cow-pony tied itself up in knots as it pounded down the street toward + the trail, and although he was fired on he swung into the dusty trail with + a song on his lips. Several hours later he stood dripping wet on the + American side of the Rio Grande and shouted advice to a score of Mexican + cavalrymen on the opposite bank. Then he slowly picked his way toward El + Paso for a game at Faro Dan's. + </p> + <p> + The sheriff sat in his easy chair one night some three weeks later, + gravely engaged in rolling a cigarette. His arms were practically well, + the wounds being in the fleshy parts. He was a philosopher and was + disposed to take things easy, which accounted for his being in his + official position for fifteen years. A gentleman at the core, he was well + educated and had visited a goodly portion of the world. A book of Horace + lay open on his knees and on the table at his side lay a shining new + revolver, Hopalong having carried off his former weapon. He read aloud + several lines and in reaching for a light for his cigarette noticed the + new six-shooter. His mind leaped from Horace to Hopalong, and he smiled + grimly at the latter's promise to call. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Glancing up, his eyes fell on a poster which conveyed the information in +Spanish and in English that there was offered + + +———————————————————+ + | | FIVE HUNDRED PESOS | | + + REWARD + + For Hopalong Cassidy, of the Ranch + + | | Known as the Bar-20, Texas, U. S. A. | | + + +———————————————————+ +</pre> + <p> + and which gave a good description of that gentleman. + </p> + <p> + Sighing for the five hundred, he again took up his book and was lost in + its pages when he heard a knock, rather low and timid. Wearily laying + aside his reading, he strode to the door, expecting to hear a lengthy + complaint from one of his townsmen. As he threw the door wide open the + light streamed out and lighted up a revolver and behind it the beaming + face of a cowboy, who grinned. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll be damned!” ejaculated the sheriff, starting back in + amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Don't say that, sheriff; you've got lots of time to reform,” replied a + humorous voice. “How's th' wings?” + </p> + <p> + “Almost well: you were considerate,” responded the sheriff. “Let's go in—somebody + might see me out here an' get into trouble,” suggested the visitor, + placing his foot on the sill. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly—pardon my discourtesy,” said the sheriff. “You see, I + wasn't expecting you to-night,” he explained, thinking of the elaborate + preparations that he would have gone to if he had thought the + irrepressible would call. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I was down this way, an' seeing as how I had promised to drop in I + just natchurally dropped,” replied Hopalong as he took the chair proffered + by his host. + </p> + <p> + After talking awhile on everything and nothing the sheriff coughed and + looked uneasily at his guest. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Cassidy, I am sorry you called, for I like men of your energy and + courage and I very much dislike to arrest you,” remarked the sheriff. “Of + course you understand that you are under arrest,” he added with anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “Who, me?” Asked Hopalong with a rising inflection. + </p> + <p> + “Most assuredly,” breathed the sheriff. + </p> + <p> + “Why, this is the first time I ever heard anything about it,” replied the + astonished cow-puncher. “I'm an American—don't that make any + difference?” + </p> + <p> + “Not in this case, I'm afraid. You see, it's for manslaughter.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, don't that beat th' devil, now?” Said Hopalong. He felt sorry that + a citizen of the glorious United States should be prey for troublesome + sheriffs, but he was sure that his duty to Texas called upon him never to + submit to arrest at the hands of a Mexican. Remembering the Alamo, and + still behind his Colt, he reached over and took up the shining weapon from + the table and snapped it open on his knee. After placing the cartridges in + his pocket he tossed the gun over on the bed and, reaching inside his + shirt, drew out another and threw it after the first. + </p> + <p> + “That's yore gun; I forgot to leave it,” he said, apologetically. “Anyhow + yu needs two,” he added. + </p> + <p> + Then he glanced around the room, noticed the poster and walked over and + read it. A full swift sweep of his gloved hand tore it from its fastenings + and crammed it under his belt. The glimmer of anger in his eyes gave way + as he realized that his head was worth a definite price, and he smiled at + what the boys would say when he showed it to them. Planting his feet far + apart and placing his arms akimbo he faced his host in grim defiance. + </p> + <p> + “Got any more of these?” He inquired, placing his hand on the poster under + his belt. + </p> + <p> + “Several,” replied the sheriff. + </p> + <p> + “Trot 'em out,” ordered Hopalong shortly. + </p> + <p> + The sheriff sighed, stretched and went over to a shelf, from which he took + a bundle of the articles in question. Turning slowly he looked at the + puncher and handed them to him. + </p> + <p> + “I reckons they's all over this here town,” remarked Hopalong. + </p> + <p> + “They are, and you may never see Texas again.” + </p> + <p> + “So? Well, yu tell yore most particular friends that the job is worth five + thousand, and that it will take so many to do it that when th' mazuma is + divided up it won't buy a meal. There's only one man in this country + tonight that can earn that money, an' that's me,” said the puncher. “An' I + don't need it,” he added, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “But you are my prisoner—you are under arrest,” enlightened the + sheriff, rolling another cigarette. The sheriff spoke as if asking a + question. Never before had five hundred dollars been so close at hand and + yet so unobtainable. It was like having a check-book but no bank account. + </p> + <p> + “I'm shore sorry to treat yu mean,” remarked Hopalong, “but I was paid a + month in advance an' I'll have to go back an' earn it.” + </p> + <p> + “You can—if you say that you will return,” replied the sheriff + tentatively. The sheriff meant what he said and for the moment had + forgotten that he was powerless and was not the one to make terms. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong was amazed and for a time his ideas of Mexicans staggered under + the blow. Then he smiled sympathetically as he realized that he faced a + white man. + </p> + <p> + “Never like to promise nothin',” he replied. “I might get plugged, or + something might happen that wouldn't let me.” Then his face lighted up as + a thought came to him. “Say, I'll cut di' cards with yu to see if I comes + back or not.” + </p> + <p> + The sheriff leaned back and gazed at the cool youngster before him. A + smile of satisfaction, partly at the self-reliance of his guest and partly + at the novelty of his situation, spread over his face. He reached for a + pack of Mexican cards and laughed. “Man! You're a cool one—I'll do + it. What do you call?” + </p> + <p> + “Red,” answered Hopalong. + </p> + <p> + The sheriff slowly raised his hand and revealed the ace of hearts. + Hopalong leaned back and laughed, at the same time taking from his pocket + the six extracted cartridges. Arising and going over to the bed he slipped + them in the chambers of the new gun and then placed the loaded weapon at + the sheriff's elbow. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I reckon I'll amble, sheriff,” he said as he opened the door. “If + yu ever sifts up my way drop in an' see me—th' boys'll give yu a + good time.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks; I will be glad to,” replied the sheriff. “You'll take your + pitcher to the well once too often some day, my friend. This courtesy,” + glancing at the restored revolver, “might have cost you dearly.” + </p> + <p> + “Shoo! I did that once an' th' feller tried to use it,” replied the cowboy + as he backed through the door. “Some people are awfully careless,” he + added. “So long—” + </p> + <p> + “So long,” replied the sheriff, wondering what sort of a man he had been + entertaining. + </p> + <p> + The door closed softly and soon after a joyous whoop floated in from the + Street. The sheriff toyed with the new gun and listened to the low caress + of a distant guitar. + </p> + <p> + “Well, don't that beat all?” He ejaculated. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. The Advent of McAllister + </h2> + <p> + The blazing sun shone pitilessly on an arid plain which was spotted with + dust-gray clumps of mesquite and thorny chaparral. Basking in the burning + sand and alkali lay several Gila monsters, which raised their heads and + hissed with wide-open jaws as several faint, whip-like reports echoed + flatly over the desolate plain, showing that even they had learned that + danger was associated with such sounds. + </p> + <p> + Off to the north there became visible a cloud of dust and at intervals + something swayed in it, something that rose and fell and then became + hidden again. Out of that cloud came sharp, splitting sounds, which were + faintly responded to by another and larger cloud in its rear. As it came + nearer and finally swept past, the Gilas, to their terror, saw a madly + pounding horse, and it carried a man. The latter turned in his saddle and + raised a gun to his shoulder and the thunder that issued from it caused + the creeping audience to throw up their tails in sudden panic and bury + themselves out of sight in the sand. + </p> + <p> + The horse was only a broncho, its sides covered with hideous yellow spots, + and on its near flank was a peculiar scar, the brand. Foam flecked from + its crimsoned jaws and found a resting place on its sides and on the hairy + chaps of its rider. Sweat rolled and streamed from its heaving flanks and + was greedily sucked up by the drought-cursed alkali. Close to the rider's + knee a bloody furrow ran forward and one of the broncho's ears was torn + and limp. The broncho was doing its best—it could run at that pace + until it dropped dead. Every ounce of strength it possessed was put forth + to bring those hind hoofs well in front of the forward ones and to send + them pushing the sand behind in streaming clouds. The horse had done this + same thing many times—when would its master learn sense? + </p> + <p> + The man was typical in appearance with many of that broad land. Lithe, + sinewy and bronzed by hard riding and hot suns, he sat in his Cheyenne + saddle like a centaur, all his weight on the heavy, leather-guarded + stirrups, his body rising in one magnificent straight line. A bleached + moustache hid the thin lips, and a gray sombrero threw a heavy shadow + across his eyes. Around his neck and over his open, blue flannel shirt lay + loosely a knotted silk kerchief, and on his thighs a pair of open-flapped + holsters swung uneasily with their ivory handled burdens. He turned + abruptly, raised his gun to his shoulder and fired, then he laughed + recklessly and patted his mount, which responded to the confident caress + by lying flatter to the earth in a spurt of heart-breaking speed. + </p> + <p> + “I'll show 'em who they're trailin'. This is th' second time I've started + for Muddy Wells, an' I'm goin' to git there, too, for all th' Apaches out + of Hades!” + </p> + <p> + To the south another cloud of dust rapidly approached and the rider + scanned it closely, for it was directly in his path. As he watched it he + saw something wave and it was a sombrero! Shortly afterward a real cowboy + yell reached his ears. He grinned and slid another cartridge in the + greasy, smoking barrel of the Sharp's and fired again at the cloud in his + rear. Some few minutes later a whooping, bunched crowd of madly riding + cowboys thundered past him and he was recognized. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo, Frenchy!” yelled the nearest one. “Comin' back?” + </p> + <p> + “Come on, McAllister!” shouted another; “we'll give 'em blazes!” In + response the straining broncho suddenly stiffened, bunched and slid on its + haunches, wheeled and retraced its course. The rear cloud suddenly + scattered into many smaller ones and all swept off to the east. The + rescuing band overtook them and, several hours later, when seated around a + table in Tom Lee's saloon, Muddy Wells, a count was taken of them, which + was pleasing in its facts. + </p> + <p> + “We was huntin' coyotes when we saw yu,” said a smiling puncher who was + known as Salvation Carroll chiefly because he wasn't. + </p> + <p> + “Yep! They've been stalkin' Tom's chickens,” supplied Waffles, the + champion poker player of the outfit. Tom Lee's chickens could whip + anything of their kind for miles around and were reverenced accordingly. + </p> + <p> + “Sho! Is that so?” Asked Frenchy with mild incredulity, such a state of + affairs being deplorable. + </p> + <p> + “She shore is!” answered Tex Le Blanc, and then, as an afterthought, he + added, “Where'd yu hit th' War-whoops?” + </p> + <p> + “'Bout four hours back. This here's th' second time I've headed for this + place—last time they chased me to Las Cruces.” + </p> + <p> + “That so?” Asked Bigfoot Baker, a giant. “Ain't they allus interferin', + now? Anyhow, they're better'n coyotes.” + </p> + <p> + “They was purty well heeled,” suggested Tex, glancing at a bunch of + repeating Winchesters of late model which lay stacked in a corner. + “Charley here said he thought they was from th' way yore cayuse looked, + didn't yu, Charley?” Charley nodded and filled his pipe. + </p> + <p> + “'Pears like a feller can't amble around much nowadays without havin' to + fight,” grumbled Lefty Allen, who usually went out of his way hunting up + trouble. + </p> + <p> + “We're goin' to th' Hills as soon as our cookie turns up,” volunteered + Tenspot Davis, looking inquiringly at Frenchy. “Heard any more news?” + </p> + <p> + “Nope. Same old story—lots of gold. Shucks, I've bit on so many of + them rumors that they don't feaze me no more. One man who don't know + nothin' about prospectin' goes an' stumbles over a fortune an' those who + know it from A to Izzard goes 'round pullin' in their belts.” + </p> + <p> + “We don't pull in no belts—we knows just where to look, don't we, + Tenspot?” Remarked Tex, looking very wise. + </p> + <p> + “Ya-as we do,” answered Tenspot, “if yu hasn't dreamed about it, we do.” + </p> + <p> + “Yu wait; I wasn't dreamin', none whatever,” assured Tex. + </p> + <p> + “I saw it!” + </p> + <p> + “Ya-as, I saw it too onct,” replied Frenchy with sarcasm. “Went and lugged + fifty pound of it all th' way to th' assay office—took me two days! + an' that there four-eyed cuss looks at it and snickers. Then he takes me + by di' arm an' leads me to th' window. 'See that pile, my friend? That's + all like yourn,' sez he. 'It's worth about one simoleon a ton at th' + coast. They use it for ballast.'” + </p> + <p> + “Aw! But this what I saw was gold!” exploded Tex. + </p> + <p> + “So was mine, for a while!” laughed Frenchy, nodding to the bartender for + another round. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we're tired of punchin' cows! Ride sixteen hours a day, year in an' + year out, an' what do we get? Fifty a month an' no chance to spend it, an' + grub that'd make a coyote sniffle! I'm for a vacation, an' if I goes + broke, why, I'll punch again!” asserted Waffles, the foreman, thus + revealing the real purpose of the trip. + </p> + <p> + “What'd yore boss say?” Asked Frenchy. + </p> + <p> + “Whoop! What didn't he say! Honest, I never thought he had it in him. It + was fine. He cussed an hour frontways an' then trailed back on a dead + gallop, with us a-laughin' fit to bust. Then he rustles for his gun an' we + rustles for town,” answered Waffles, laughing at his remembrance of it. + </p> + <p> + As Frenchy was about to reply his sombrero was snatched from his head and + disappeared. If he “got mad” he was to be regarded as not sufficiently + well acquainted for banter and he was at once in hot water; if he took it + good-naturedly he was one of the crowd in spirit; but in either case he + didn't get his hat without begging or fighting for it. This was a + recognized custom among the O-Bar-O outfit and was not intended as an + insult. + </p> + <p> + Frenchy grabbed at the empty air and arose. Punching Lefty playfully in + the ribs he passed his hands behind that person's back. Not finding the + lost head-gear he laughed and, tripping Lefty up, fell with him and, + reaching up on the table for his glass, poured the contents down Lefty's + back and arose. + </p> + <p> + “Yu son-of-a-gun!” indignantly wailed that unfortunate. “Gee, it feels + funny,” he added, grinning as he pulled the wet shirt away from his spine. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I've got to be amblin',” said Frenchy, totally ignoring the loss of + his hat. “Goin' down to Buckskin,” he offered, and then asked, “When's + yore cook comin'?” + </p> + <p> + “Day after to-morrow, if he don't get loaded,” replied Tex. + </p> + <p> + “Who is he?” + </p> + <p> + “A one-eyed Mexican—Quiensabe Antonio.” + </p> + <p> + “I used to know him. He's a heck of a cook. Dished up th' grub one season + when I was punchin' for th' Tin-Cup up in Montana,” replied Frenchy. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he kin cook now, all right.” replied Waffles. + </p> + <p> + “That's about all he can cook. Useter wash his knives in th' coffee pot + an' blow on di' tins. I chased him a mile one night for leavin' sand in + th' skillet. Yu can have him—I don't envy yu none whatever. + </p> + <p> + “He don't sand no skillet when little Tenspot's around,” assured that + person, slapping his holster. “Does he, Lefty?” + </p> + <p> + “If he does, yu oughter be lynched,” consoled Lefty. + </p> + <p> + “Well, so long,” remarked Frenchy, riding off to a small store, where he + bought a cheap sombrero. + </p> + <p> + Frenchy was a jack-of-all-trades, having been cow-puncher, prospector, + proprietor of a “hotel” in Albuquerque, foreman of a ranch, sheriff, and + at one time had played angel to a venturesome but poor show troupe. Beside + his versatility he was well known as the man who took the stage through + the Sioux country when no one else volunteered. He could shoot with the + best, but his one pride was the brand of poker he handed out. Furthermore, + he had never been known to take an unjust advantage over any man and, on + the contrary, had frequently voluntarily handicapped himself to make the + event more interesting. But he must not be classed as being hampered with + self-restraint. + </p> + <p> + His reasons for making this trip were two-fold: he wished to see Buck + Peters, the foreman of the Bar-20 outfit, as he and Buck had punched cows + together twenty years before and were firm friends; the other was that he + wished to get square with Hopalong Cassidy, who had decisively cleaned him + out the year before at poker. Hopalong played either in great good luck or + the contrary, while Frenchy played an even, consistent game and usually + left off richer than when he began, and this decisive defeat bothered him + more than he would admit, even to himself. + </p> + <p> + The round-up season was at hand and the Bar-20 was short of ropers, the + rumors of fresh gold discoveries in the Black Hills having drawn all the + more restless men north. The outfit also had a slight touch of the gold + fever, and only their peculiar loyalty to the ranch and the assurance of + the foreman that when the work was over he would accompany them, kept them + from joining the rush of those who desired sudden and much wealth as the + necessary preliminary of painting some cow town in all the “bang up” style + such an event would call for. Therefore they had been given orders to + secure the required assistance, and they intended to do so, and were + prepared to kidnap, if necessary, for the glamour of wealth and the + hilarity of the vacation made the hours falter in their speed. + </p> + <p> + As Frenchy leaned back in his chair in Cowan's saloon, Buckskin, early the + next morning, planning to get revenge on Hopalong and then to recover his + sombrero, he heard a medley of yells and whoops and soon the door flew + open before the strenuous and concentrated entry of a mass of twisting and + kicking arms and legs, which magically found their respective owners and + reverted to the established order of things. + </p> + <p> + When the alkali dust had thinned he saw seven cow-punchers sitting on the + prostrate form of another, who was earnestly engaged in trying to push + Johnny Nelson's head out in the street with one foot as he voiced his + lucid opinion of things in general and the seven in particular. After Red + Connors had been stabbed in the back several times by the victim's + energetic elbow he ran out of the room and presently returned with a + pleased expression and a sombrero full of water, his finger plugging an + old bullet hole in the crown. + </p> + <p> + “Is he any better, Buck?” Anxiously inquired the man with the reservoir. + </p> + <p> + “About a dollar's worth,” replied the foreman. “Jest put a little right + here,” he drawled as he pulled back the collar of the unfortunate's shirt. + </p> + <p> + “Ow! wow! WOW!” wailed the recipient, heaving and straining. The unengaged + leg was suddenly wrested loose, and as it shot up and out Billy Williams, + with his pessimism aroused to a blue-ribbon pitch, sat down forcibly in an + adjacent part of the room, from where he lectured between gasps on the + follies of mankind and the attributes of army mules. + </p> + <p> + Red tiptoed around the squirming bunch, looking for an opening, his + pleased expression now having added a grin. + </p> + <p> + “Seems to be gittin' violent-like,” he soliloquized, as he aimed a stream + at Hopalong's ear, which showed for a second as Pete Wilson strove for a + half-nelson, and he managed to include Johnny and Pete in his effort. + </p> + <p> + Several minutes later, when the storm had subsided, the woeful crowd + enthusiastically urged Hopalong to the bar, where he “bought.” + </p> + <p> + “Of all th' ornery outfits I ever saw—” began the man at the table, + grinning from ear to ear at the spectacle he had just witnessed. + </p> + <p> + “Why, hullo, Frenchy! Glad to see yu, yu old son-of-a-gun! What's th' news + from th' Hills?” Shouted Hopalong. + </p> + <p> + “Rather locoed, an' there's a locoed gang that's headin' that way. Goin' + up?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Shore, after round-up. Seen any punchers trailin' around loose?” + </p> + <p> + “Ya-as,” drawled Frenchy, delving into the possibilities suddenly opened + to him and determining to utilize to the fullest extent the opportunity + that had come to him unsought. “There's nine over to Muddy Wells that yu + might git if yu wants them bad enough. They've got a sombrero of mine,” he + added deprecatingly. + </p> + <p> + “Nine! Twisted Jerusalem, Buck! Nine whole cow-punchers a-pinin' for + work,” he shouted, but then added thoughtfully, “Mebby they's engaged,” it + being one of the courtesies of the land not to take another man's help. + </p> + <p> + “Nope. They've stampeded for th' Hills an' left their boss all alone,” + replied Frenchy, well knowing that such desertion would not, in the minds + of the Bar-20 men, add any merits to the case of the distant outfit. + </p> + <p> + “Th' sons-of-guns,” said Hopalong, “let's go an' get 'em,” he suggested, + turning to Buck, who nodded a smiling assent. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what's the hurry?” Asked Frenchy, seeing his projected game slipping + away into the uncertain future and happy in the thought that he would be + avenged on the O-Bar-O outfit. + </p> + <p> + “They'll be there till to-morrow noon—they's waitin' for their + cookie, who's goin' with them.” + </p> + <p> + “A cook! A cook! Oh, joy, a cook!” exulted Johnny, not for one instant + doubting Buck's ability to capture the whole outfit and seeing a whirl of + excitement in the effort. + </p> + <p> + “Anybody we knows?” Inquired Skinny Thompson. + </p> + <p> + “Shore. Tenspot Davis, Waffles, Salvation Carroll, Bigfoot Baker, Charley + Lane, Lefty Allen, Kid Morris, Curley Tate an' Tex Le Blanc,” responded + Frenchy. + </p> + <p> + “Umm-m. Might as well rope a blizzard,” grumbled Billy. “Might as well try + to git th' Seventh Cavalry. We'll have a pious time corralling that bunch. + Them's th' fellows that hit that bunch of inquirin' Crow braves that time + up in th' Bad Lands an' then said by-bye to th' Ninth.” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, shut up! They's only two that's very much, an' Buck an' Hopalong can + sing 'em to sleep,” interposed Johnny, afraid that the expedition would + fall through. + </p> + <p> + “How about Curley and Tex?” Pugnaciously asked Billy. + </p> + <p> + “Huh, jest because they buffaloed yu over to Las Vegas yu needn't think + they's dangerous. Salvation an' Tenspot are only ones who can shoot,” + stoutly maintained Johnny. + </p> + <p> + “Here yu, get mum,” ordered Buck to the pair. “When this outfit goes after + anything it generally gets it. All in favor of kidnappin' that outfit + signify di' same by kickin' Billy,” whereupon Bill swore. + </p> + <p> + “Do yu want yore hat?” Asked Buck, turning to Frenchy. + </p> + <p> + “I shore do,” answered that individual. + </p> + <p> + “If yu helps us at th' round-up we'll get it for yu. Fifty a month an' + grub,” offered the foreman. + </p> + <p> + “O.K.” replied Frenchy, anxious to even matters. + </p> + <p> + Buck looked at his watch. “Seven o'clock—we ought to get there by + five if we relays at th' Barred-Horseshoe. Come on.” + </p> + <p> + “How are we goin' to git them?” Asked Billy. + </p> + <p> + “Yu leave that to me, son. Hopalong an' Frenchy'll tend to that part of + it,” replied Buck, making for his horse and swinging into the saddle, an + example which was followed by the others, including Frenchy. + </p> + <p> + As they swung off Buck noticed the condition of Frenchy's mount and + halted. “Yu take that cayuse back an' get Cowan's,” he ordered. + </p> + <p> + “That cayuse is good for Cheyenne—she eats work, an' besides I wants + my own,” laughed Frenchy. + </p> + <p> + “Yu must had a reg'lar picnic from th' looks of that crease,” volunteered + Hopalong, whose curiosity was mastering him. “Shoo! I had a little + argument with some feather dusters—th' O-Bar-O crowd cleaned them + up.” + </p> + <p> + “That so?” Asked Buck. + </p> + <p> + “Yep! They sorter got into th' habit of chasin' me to Las Cruces an' + forgot to stop.” + </p> + <p> + “How many'd yu get?” Asked Lanky Smith. + </p> + <p> + “Twelve. Two got away. I got two before th' crowd showed up—that + makes fo'teen.” + </p> + <p> + “Now th' cavalry'll be huntin' yu,” croaked Billy. + </p> + <p> + “Hunt nothin'! They was in war-paint-think I was a target?—Think I + was goin' to call off their shots for 'em?” + </p> + <p> + They relayed at the Barred-Horseshoe and went on their way at the same + pace. Shortly after leaving the last-named ranch Buck turned to Frenchy + and asked, “Any of that outfit think they can play poker?” + </p> + <p> + “Shore. Waffles.” + </p> + <p> + “Does th' reverend Mr. Waffles think so very hard?” + </p> + <p> + “He shore does.” + </p> + <p> + “Do th' rest of them mavericks think so too?” + </p> + <p> + “They'd bet their shirts on him.” + </p> + <p> + At this juncture all were startled by a sudden eruption from Billy. “Haw! + Haw! Haw!” he roared as the drift of Buck's intentions struck him. “Haw! + Haw! Haw!” + </p> + <p> + “Here, yu long-winded coyote,” yelled Red, banging him over the head with + his quirt, “If yu don't 'Haw! Haw!' away from my ear I'll make it a Wow! + Wow! What d'yu mean? Think I am a echo cliff? Yu slabsided doodle-bug, + yu!” + </p> + <p> + “G'way, yu crimson topknot, think my head's a hunk of quartz? Fer a + plugged peso I'd strew yu all over th' scenery!” shouted Billy, feigning + anger and rubbing his head. + </p> + <p> + “There ain't no scenery around here,” interposed Lanky. “This here + be-utiful prospect is a sublime conception of th' devil.” + </p> + <p> + “Easy, boy! Them highfalutin' words'il give yu a cramp some day. Yu talk + like a newly-made sergeant,” remarked Skinny. + </p> + <p> + “He learned them words from the sky-pilot over at El Paso,” volunteered + Hopalong, winking at Red. “He used to amble down th' aisle afore the + lights was lit so's he could get a front seat. That was all hunky for a + while, but every time he'd go out to irrigate, that female organ-wrastler + would seem to call th' music off for his special benefit. So in a month + he'd sneak in an' freeze to a chair by th' door, an' after a while he'd + shy like blazes every time he got within eye range of th' church.” + </p> + <p> + “Shore. But do yu know what made him get religion all of a sudden? He used + to hang around on di' outside after th' joint let out an' trail along + behind di' music-slinger, lookin' like he didn't know what to do with his + hands. Then when he got woozy one time she up an' told him that she had + got a nice long letter from her hubby. Then Mr. Lanky hit th' trail for + Santa Fe so hard that there wasn't hardly none of it left. I didn't see + him for a whole month,” supplied Red innocently. + </p> + <p> + “Yore shore funny, ain't yu?” sarcastically grunted Lanky. “Why, I can + tell things on yu that'd make yu stand treat for a year.” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't sneak off to Santa Fe an' cheat yu out of them. Yu ought to be + ashamed of yoreself.” + </p> + <p> + “Yah!” snorted the aggrieved little man. “I had business over to Santa + Fe!” + </p> + <p> + “Shore,” endorsed Hopalong. “We've all had business over to Santa Fe. Why, + about eight years ago I had business—” + </p> + <p> + “Choke up,” interposed Red. “About eight years ago yu was washin' pans for + cookie, an' askin' me for cartridges. Buck used to larrup yu about four + times a day eight years ago.” + </p> + <p> + To their roars of laughter Hopalong dropped to the rear, where, red-faced + and quiet, he bent his thoughts on how to get square. + </p> + <p> + “We'll have a pleasant time corralling that gang,” began Billy for the + third time. + </p> + <p> + “For heaven's sake get off that trail!” replied Lanky. “We aint goin' to + hold 'em up. De-plomacy's th' game.” + </p> + <p> + Billy looked dubious and said nothing. If he hadn't proven that he was as + nervy as any man in the outfit they might have taken more stock in his + grumbling. + </p> + <p> + “What's the latest from Abilene way?” Asked Buck of Frenchy. + </p> + <p> + “Nothin' much 'cept th' barb-wire ruction,” replied the recruit. + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” Asked Red, glancing apprehensively back at Hopalong. + </p> + <p> + “Why, th' settlers put up barb-wire fence so's the cattle wouldn't get on + their farms. That would a been all right, for there wasn't much of it. But + some Britishers who own a couple of big ranches out there got smart all of + a sudden an' strung wire all along their lines. Punchers crossin' th' + country would run plumb into a fence an' would have to ride a day an' a + half, mebbe, afore they found th' corner. Well, naturally, when a man has + been used to ridin' where he blame pleases an' as straight as he pleases + he ain't goin' to chase along a five-foot fence to Trisco when he wants to + get to Waco. So th' punchers got to totin' wire-snips, an' when they runs + up agin a fence they cuts down half a mile or so. Sometimes they'd tie + their ropes to a strand an' pull off a couple of miles an' then go back + after th' rest. Th' ranch bosses sent out men to watch th' fences an' told + 'em to shoot any festive puncher that monkeyed with th' hardware. Well, yu + know what happens when a puncher gets shot at.” + </p> + <p> + “When fences grow in Texas there'll be th' devil to pay,” said Buck. He + hated to think that some day the freedom of the range would be annulled, + for he knew that it would be the first blow against the cowboys' + occupation. When a man's cattle couldn't spread out all over the land he + wouldn't have to keep so many men. Farms would spring up and the sun of + the free-and-easy cowboy would slowly set. + </p> + <p> + “I reckons th' cutters are classed th' same as rustlers,” remarked Red + with a gleam of temper. + </p> + <p> + “By th' owners, but not by th' punchers; an' it's th' punchers that + count,” replied Frenchy. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we'll give them a fight,” interposed Hopalong, riding up. “When it + gets so I can't go where I please I'll start on th' warpath. I won't buck + the cavalry, but I'll keep it busy huntin' for me an' I'll have time to + 'tend to th' wire-fence men, too. Why, we'll be told we can't tote our + guns!” + </p> + <p> + “They're sayin' that now,” replied Frenchy. “Up in Buffalo, Smith, who's + now marshal, makes yu leave 'em with th' bartenders.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to see any two-laigged cuss get my guns If I didn't want him + to!” began Hopalong, indignant at the idea. + </p> + <p> + “Easy, son,” cautioned Buck. “Yu would do what th' rest did because yu are + a square man. I'm about as hard-headed a puncher as ever straddled leather + an' I've had to use my guns purty considerable, but I reckons if any + decent marshal asked me to cache them in a decent way, why, I'd do it. An' + let me brand somethin' on yore mind—I've heard of Smith of Buffalo, + an' he's mighty nifty with his hands. He don't stand off an' tell yu to + unload yore lead-ranch, but he ambles up close an' taps yu on yore shirt; + if yu makes a gunplay he naturally knocks yu clean across th' room an' + unloads yu afore yu gets yore senses back. He weighs about a hundred an' + eighty an' he's shore got sand to burn.” + </p> + <p> + “Yah! When I makes a gun play she plays! I'd look nice in Abilene or Paso + or Albuquerque without my guns, wouldn't I? Just because I totes them in + plain sight I've got to hand 'em over to some liquor-wrastler? I reckons + not! Some hip-pocket skunk would plug me afore I could wink. I'd shore + look nice loping around a keno layout without my guns, in th' same town + with some cuss huntin' me, wouldn't I? A whole lot of good a marshal would + a done Jimmy, an' didn't Harris get his from a cur in th' dark?” shouted + Hopalong, angered by the prospect. + </p> + <p> + “We're talkin' about Buffalo, where everybody has to hang up their guns,” + replied Buck. “An' there's th' law—” + </p> + <p> + “To blazes with th' law!” whooped Hopalong in Red's ear as he unfastened + the cinch of Red's saddle and at the same time stabbing that unfortunate's + mount with his spurs, thereby causing a hasty separation of the two. When + Red had picked himself up and things had quieted down again the subject + was changed, and several hours later they rode into Muddy Wells, a town + with a little more excuse for its existence than Buckskin. The wells were + in an arid valley west of Guadaloupe Pass, and were not only muddy but + more or less alkaline. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER. X. Peace Hath its Victories + </h2> + <p> + As they neared the central group of buildings they heard a hilarious and + assertive song which sprang from the door and windows of the main saloon. + It was in jig time, rollicking and boisterous, but the words had evidently + been improvised for the occasion, as they clashed immediately with those + which sprang to the minds of the outfit, although they could not be + clearly distinguished. As they approached nearer and finally dismounted, + however, the words became recognizable and the visitors were at once + placed in harmony with the air of jovial recklessness by the roaring of + the verses and the stamping of the time. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Oh we're red-hot cow-punchers playin' on our luck, + An' there ain't a proposition that we won't buck: + From sunrise to sunset we've ridden on the range, + But now we're oft for a howlin' change. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +CHORUS + + Laugh a little, sing a little, all th' day; + Play a little, drink a little—we can pay; + Ride a little, dig a little an' rich we'll grow. + Oh, we're that bunch from th' O-Bar-O! + + Oh, there was a little tenderfoot an' he had a little gun, + An' th' gun an' him went a-trailin' up some fun. + They ambles up to Santa Fe' to find a quiet game, + An' now they're planted with some more of th' same! +</pre> + <p> + As Hopalong, followed by the others, pushed open the door and entered he + took up the chorus with all the power of Texan lungs and even Billy joined + in. The sight that met their eyes was typical of the men and the mood and + the place. Leaning along the walls, lounging on the table and straddling + chairs with their forearms crossed on the backs were nine cowboys, ranging + from old twenty to young fifty in years, and all were shouting the song + and keeping time with their hands and feet. + </p> + <p> + In the center of the room was a large man dancing a fair buck-and-wing to + the time so uproariously set by his companions. Hatless, neck-kerchief + loose, holsters flapping, chaps rippling out and close, spurs clinking and + perspiration streaming from his tanned face, danced Bigfoot Baker as + though his life depended on speed and noise. Bottles shook and the air was + fogged with smoke and dust. Suddenly, his belt slipping and letting his + chaps fall around his ankles, he tripped and sat down heavily. Gasping for + breath, he held out his hand and received a huge plug of tobacco, for + Bigfoot had won a contest. + </p> + <p> + Shouts of greeting were hurled at the newcomers and many questions were + fired at them regarding “th' latest from th' Hills.” Waffles made a rush + for Hopalong, but fell over Big-foot's feet and all three were piled up in + a heap. All were beaming with good nature, for they were as so many school + boys playing truant. Prosaic cow-punching was relegated to the rear and + they looked eagerly forward to their several missions. Frenchy told of the + barb-wire fence war and of the new regulations of “Smith of Buffalo” + regarding cow-punchers' guns, and from the caustic remarks explosively + given it was plain to be seen what a wire fence could expect, should one + be met with, and there were many imaginary Smiths put hors de combat. + </p> + <p> + Kid Morris, after vainly trying to slip a blue-bottle fly inside of + Hopalong's shirt, gave it up and slammed his hand on Hopalong's back + instead, crying: “Well, I'll be doggoned if here ain't Hopalong! How's th' + missus an' th' deacon an' all th' folks to hum? I hears yu an' Frenchy's + reg'lar poker fiends!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we plays onct in a while, but we don't want none of yore dust. Yu'll + shore need it all afore th' Hills get through with yu,” laughingly replied + Hopalong. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yore shore kind! But I was a sort of reckonin' that we needs some + more. Perfesser P. D. Q. Waffles is our poker man an' he shore can clean + out anything I ever saw. Mebbe yu fellers feel reckless-like an' would + like to make a pool,” he cried, addressing the outfit of the Bar-20, “an' + back yore boss of th' full house agin ourn?” + </p> + <p> + Red turned slowly around and took a full minute in which to size the Kid + up. Then he snorted and turned his back again. + </p> + <p> + The Kid stared at him in outraged dignity. “Well, what say!” he softly + murmured. Then he leaped forward and walloped Red on the back. “Hey, yore + royal highness!” he shouted. “Yu-yu-yu-oh, hang it-yu! Yu slab-sided, + ring-boned, saddle-galled shade of a coyote, do yu think I'm only + meanderin' in th' misty vales of-of—” + </p> + <p> + Suggestions intruded from various sources. “Hades?” offered Hopalong. + “Cheyenne?” Murmured Johnny. “Misty mistiness of misty?” tentatively + supplied Waffles. + </p> + <p> + Red turned around again. “Better come up an' have somethin',” he + sympathetically invited, wiping away an imaginary tear. + </p> + <p> + “An' he's so young!” sobbed Frenchy. + </p> + <p> + “An' so fair!” wailed Tex. + </p> + <p> + “An' so ornery!” howled Lefty, throwing his arms around the discomfited + youngster. Other arms went around him, and out of the sobbing mob could be + heard earnest and heart-felt cussing, interspersed with imperative + commands, which were gradually obeyed. + </p> + <p> + The Kid straightened up his wearing apparel. “Come on, yu locoed—” + </p> + <p> + “Angels?” Queried Charley Lane, interrupting him. “Sweet things?” breathed + Hopalong in hopeful expectancy. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, blast it!” yelled the Kid as he ran out into the street to escape the + persecution. + </p> + <p> + “Good Kid, all right,” remarked Waffles. “He'll go around an' lick some + Mexican an' come back sweet as honey.” + </p> + <p> + “Did somebody say poker?” Asked Bigfoot, digressing from the Kid. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yu fellows don't want no poker. Of course yu don't. Poker's mighty + uncertain,” replied Red. + </p> + <p> + “Yah!” exclaimed Tex Le Blanc, pushing forward. “I'll just bet yu to a + standstill that Waffles an' Salvation'll round up all th' festive + simoleons yu can get together! An' I'll throw in Frenchy's hat as an + inducement.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if yore shore set on it make her a pool,” replied Red, “an' th' + winners divide with their outfit. Here's a starter,” he added, tossing a + buckskin bag on the table. “Come on, pile 'em up.” + </p> + <p> + The crowd divided as the players seated themselves at the table, the + O-Bar-O crowd grouping themselves behind their representatives; the Bar-20 + behind theirs. A deck of cards was brought and the game was on. + </p> + <p> + Red, true to his nature, leaned back in a corner, where, hands on hips, he + awaited any hostile demonstration on the part of the O-Bar-O; then, + suddenly remembering, he looked half ashamed of his warlike position and + became a peaceful citizen again. Buck leaned with his broad back against + the bar, talking over his shoulder to the bartender, but watching Tenspot + Davis, who was assiduously engaged in juggling a handful of Mexican + dollars. + </p> + <p> + Up by the door Bigfoot Baker, elated at winning the buck-and-wing contest, + was endeavoring to learn a new step, while his late rival was drowning his + defeat at Buck's elbow. Lefty Allen was softly singing a Mexican love + song, humming when the words would not come. At the table could be heard + low-spoken card terms and good-natured banter, interspersed with the clink + of gold and silver and the soft pat-pat of the onlookers' feet + unconsciously keeping time to Lefty's song. Notwithstanding the grim + assertiveness of belts full of .45's and the peeping handles of + long-barreled Colts, set off with picturesque chaps, sombreros and + tinkling spurs, the scene was one of peaceful content and good-fellowship. + </p> + <p> + “Ugh!” grunted Johnny, walking over to Red and informing that person that + he, Red, was a worm-eaten prune and that for half a wink he, Johnny, would + prove it. Red grabbed him by the seat of his corduroys and the collar of + his shirt and helped him outside, where they strolled about, taking pot + shots at whatever their fancy suggested. + </p> + <p> + Down the street in a cloud of dust rumbled the Las Cruces-El Paso stage + and the two punchers went up to meet it. Raw furrows showed in the + woodwork, one mule was missing and the driver and guard wore fresh + bandages. A tired tenderfoot leaped out with a sigh of relief and hunted + for his baggage, which he found to be generously perforated. Swearing at + the God-forsaken land where a man had to fight highwaymen and Indians + inside of half a day he grumblingly lugged his valise toward a + forbidding-looking shack which was called a hotel. + </p> + <p> + The driver released his teams and then turned to Red. “Hullo, old hoss, + how's th' gang?” he asked genially. “We've had a heck of a time this yere + trip,” he went on without waiting for Red to reply. “Five miles out of Las + Cruces we stood off a son-of-a-gun that wanted th' dude's wealth. Then + just this side of the San Andre foothills we runs into a bunch of young + bucks who turned us off this yere way an' gave us a runnin' fight purty + near all th' way. I'm a whole lot farther from Paso now than I was when I + started, an seem as I lost a jack I'll be some time gittin' there. Yu + don't happen to sabe a jack I can borrow, do yu?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know about no jack, but I'll rope yu a bronch,” offered Red, + winking at Johnny. + </p> + <p> + “I'll pull her myself before I'll put dynamite in di' traces,” replied the + driver. “Yu fellers might amble back a ways with me—them buddin' + warriors'll be layin' for me.” + </p> + <p> + “We shore will,” responded Johnny eagerly. “There's nine of us now an' + there'll be nine more an' a cook to-morrow, mebby.” + </p> + <p> + “Gosh, yu grows some,” replied the guard. “Eighteen'll be a plenty for + them glory hunters.” + </p> + <p> + “We won't be able to,” contradicted Red, “for things are peculiar.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment the conversation was interrupted by the tenderfoot, who + sported a new and cheap sombrero and also a belt and holster complete. + </p> + <p> + “Will you gentlemen join me?” He asked, turning to Red and nodding at the + saloon. “I am very dry and much averse to drinking alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, shore,” responded Red heartily, wishing to put the stranger at ease. + </p> + <p> + The game was running about even as they entered and Lefty Allen was + singing “The Insult,” the rich tenor softening the harshness of the + surroundings. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I've swum th' Colorado where she's almost lost to view, I've braced + th' Jaro layouts in Cheyenne; + + I've fought for muddy water with a howlin' bunch of Sioux, An' + swallowed hot tamales, an' cayenne. + + I've rid a pitchin' broncho 'till th' sky was underneath, I've + tackled every desert in th' land; + + I've sampled XXXX whiskey 'till I couldn't hardly see, An' dallied + with th' quicksands of the Grande. + + I've argued with th' marshals of a half-a-dozen burgs, I've been + dragged free an' fancy by a cow; + + I've had three years' campaignin' with th' fightin', bitin' Ninth, + An' never lost my temper 'till right now. + + I've had the yaller fever an I've been shot full of holes, I've + grabbed an army mule plumb by its tail; + + I've never been so snortin', really highfalutin' mad As when y'u up + an' hands me ginger ale! +</pre> + <p> + Hopalong laughed joyously at a remark made by Waffles and the stranger + glanced quickly at him. His merry, boyish face, underlined by a jaw + showing great firmness and set with an expression of aggressive + self-reliance, impressed the stranger and he remarked to Red, who lounged + lazily near him, that he was surprised to see such a face on so young a + man and he asked who the player was. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, his name's Hopalong Cassidy,” answered Red. “He's di' cuss that + raised that ruction down in Mexico last spring. Rode his cayuse in a + saloon and played with the loungers and had to shoot one before he got + out. When he did get out he had to fight a whole bunch of Mexicans an' + even potted their marshal, who had di' drop on him. Then he returned and + visited the marshal about a month later, took his gun away from him an' + then cut th' cards to see if he was a prisoner or not. He's a shore funny + cuss.” + </p> + <p> + The tenderfoot gasped his amazement. “Are you not fooling with me?” He + asked. + </p> + <p> + “Tell him yu came after that five hundred dollars reward and see,” + answered Red goodnaturedly. + </p> + <p> + “Holy smoke!” shouted Waffles as Hopalong won his sixth consecutive pot. + “Did yu ever see such luck?” Frenchy grinned and some time later raked in + his third. Salvation then staked his last cent against Hopalong's flush + and dropped out. + </p> + <p> + Tenspot flipped to Waffles the money he had been juggling and Lefty + searched his clothes for wealth. Buck, still leaning against the bar, + grinned and winked at Johnny, who was pouring hair-raising tales into the + receptive ears of the stranger. Thereupon Johnny confided to his newly + found acquaintance the facts about the game, nearly causing that person to + explode with delight. + </p> + <p> + Waffles pushed back his chair, stood up and stretched. At the finish of a + yawn he grinned at his late adversary. “I'm all in, yu old son-of-a-gun. + Yu shore can play draw. I'm goin' to try yu again some time. I was beat + fair an' square an' I ain't got no kick comin', none whatever,” he + remarked, as he shook hands with Hopalong. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we're that gang from th' O-Bar-O,” hummed the Kid as he sauntered in. + One cheek was slightly swollen and his clothes shed dust at every step. + “Who wins?” he inquired, not having heard Waffles. + </p> + <p> + “They did, blast it!” exploded Bigfoot. + </p> + <p> + One of the Kid's peculiarities was revealed in the unreasoning and hasty + conclusions he arrived at. From no desire to imply unfairness, but rather + because of his bitterness against failure of any kind and his loyalty to + Waffles, came his next words: + </p> + <p> + “Mebby they skinned yu.” + </p> + <p> + Like a flash Waffles sprang before him, his hand held up, palm out. “He + don't mean nothin'—he's only a ignorant kid!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + Buck smiled and wrested the Colt from Johnny's ever-ready hand. “Here's + another,” he said. Red laughed softly and rolled Johnny on the floor. “Yu + jackass,” he whispered, “don't yu know better'n to make a gun-play when we + needs them all?” + </p> + <p> + “What are we goin' to do?” Asked Tex, glancing at the bulging pockets of + Hopalong's chaps. + </p> + <p> + “We're goin' to punch cows again, that's what we're to do,” answered + Bigfoot dismally. + </p> + <p> + “An' whose are we goin' to punch? We can't go back to the old man,” + grumbled Tex. + </p> + <p> + Salvation looked askance at Buck and then at the others. “Mebby,” he + began, “Mebby we kin git a job on th' Bar-20.” Then turning to Buck again + he bluntly asked, “Are yu short of punchers?” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“Well, I might use some,” answered the foreman, hesitating. “But + I ain't got only one cook, an'——” + </pre> + <p> + “We'll git yu th' cook all O.K.,” interrupted Charley Lane vehemently. + “Hi, yu cook!” he shouted, “amble in here an' git a rustle on!” + </p> + <p> + There was no reply, and after waiting for a minute he and Waffles went + into the rear room, from which there immediately issued great chunks of + profanity and noise. They returned looking pugnacious and disgusted, with + a wildly fighting man who was more full of liquor than was the bottle + which he belligerently waved. + </p> + <p> + “This here animated distillery what yu sees is our cook,” said Waffles. + “We eats his grub, nobody else. If he gits drunk that's our funeral; but + he won't get drunk! If yu wants us to punch for yu say so an' we does; if + yu don't, we don't.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied Buck thoughtfully, “mebby I can use yu.” Then with a burst + of recklessness he added, “Yes, if I lose my job! But yu might sober that + Mexican up if yu let him fall in th' horse trough.” + </p> + <p> + As the procession wended its way on its mission of wet charity, carrying + the cook in any manner at all, Frenchy waved his long lost sombrero at + Buck, who stood in the door, and shouted, “Yu old son-of-a-gun, I'm proud + to know yu!” + </p> + <p> + Buck smiled and snapped his watch shut “Time to amble,” he said. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. Holding the Claim + </h2> + <p> + “Oh, we're that gang from th' O-Bar-O,” hummed Waffles, sinking the + branding-iron in the flank of a calf. The scene was one of great activity + and hilarity. Several fires were burning near the huge corral and in them + half a dozen irons were getting hot. Three calves were being held down for + the brand of the “Bar-20” and two more were being dragged up on their + sides by the ropes of the cowboys, the proud cow-ponies showing off their + accomplishments at the expense of the calves' feelings. In the corral the + dust arose in steady clouds as calf after calf was “cut out” by the ropers + and dragged out to get “tagged.” Angry cows fought valiantly for their + terrorized offspring, but always to no avail, for the hated rope of some + perspiring and dust-grimed rider sent them crashing to earth. Over the + plain were herds of cattle and groups of madly riding cowboys, and two + cook wagons were stalled a short distance from the corral. The round-up of + the Bar-20 was taking place, and each of the two outfits tried to outdo + the other and each individual strove for a prize. The man who cut out and + dragged to the fire the most calves in three days could leave for the + Black Hills at the expiration of that time, the rest to follow as soon as + they could. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +In this contest Hopalong Cassidy led his nearest rival, Red Connors, +both of whom were Bar-20 men, by twenty cut-outs, and there remained but +half an hour more in which to compete. As Red disappeared into the sea +of tossing horns Hopalong dashed out with a whoop. + + “Hi, yu trellis-built rack of bones, come along there! Whoop!” he +yelled, turning the prisoner over to the squad by the fire. +</pre> + <p> + “Chalk up this here insignificant wart of cross-eyed perversity: an' how + many?” He called as he galloped back to the corral. + </p> + <p> + “One ninety-eight,” announced Buck, blowing the sand from the tally sheet. + “That's shore goin' some,” he remarked to himself. + </p> + <p> + When the calf sprang up it was filled with terror, rage and pain, and + charged at Billy from the rear as that pessimistic soul was leaning over + and poking his finger at a somber horned-toad. “Wow!” he yelled as his + feet took huge steps up in the air, each one strictly on its own course. + “Woof!” he grunted in the hot sand as he arose on his hands and knees and + spat alkali. + </p> + <p> + “What's s'matter?” He asked dazedly of Johnny Nelson. “Ain't it funny!” he + yelled sarcastically as he beheld Johnny holding his sides with laughter. + “Ain't it funny!” he repeated belligerently. “Of course that four-laigged, + knock-kneed, wobblin' son-of-a-Piute had to cut me out. They wasn't nobody + in sight but Billy! Why didn't yu say he was comin'? Think I can see four + ways to once? Why didn't—” At this point Red cantered up with a + calf, and by a quick maneuver, drew the taut rope against the rear of + Billy's knees, causing that unfortunate to sit down heavily. As he arose + choking with broken-winded profanity Red dragged the animal to the fire, + and Billy forgot his grievances in the press of labor. + </p> + <p> + “How many, Buck?” Asked Red. + </p> + <p> + “One-eighty.” + </p> + <p> + “How does she stand?” + </p> + <p> + “Yore eighteen to th' bad,” replied the foreman. “Th' son-of-a-gun!” + marveled Red, riding off. + </p> + <p> + Another whoop interrupted them, and Billy quit watching out of the corner + eye for pugnacious calves as he prepared for Hopalong. + </p> + <p> + “Hey, Buck, this here cuss was with a Barred-Horseshoe cow,” he announced + as he turned it over to the branding man. Buck made a tally in a separate + column and released the animal. “Hullo, Red! Workin'?” Asked Hopalong of + his rival. + </p> + <p> + “Some, yu little cuss,” answered Red with all the good nature in the + world. Hopalong was his particular “side partner,” and he could lose to + him with the best of feelings. + </p> + <p> + “Yu looks so nice an' cool, an' clean, I didn't know,” responded Hopalong, + eyeing a streak of sweat and dust which ran from Red's eyes to his chin + and then on down his neck. + </p> + <p> + “What yu been doin'? Plowin' with yore nose?” Returned Red, smiling + blandly at his friend's appearance. + </p> + <p> + “Yah!” snorted Hopalong, wheeling toward the corral. “Come on, yu + pie-eatin' doodle-bug; I'll beat yu to th' gate!” + </p> + <p> + The two ponies sent showers of sand all over Billy, who eyed them in + pugnacious disgust. “Of all th' locoed imps that ever made life miserable + fer a man, them's th' worst! Is there any piece of fool nonsense they + hain't harnessed me with?” He beseeched of Buck. “Is there anything they + hain't done to me? They hides my liquor; they stuffs th' sweat band of my + hat with rope; they ties up my pants; they puts water in. My boots an' + toads in my bunk—ain't they never goin' to get sane?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, they're only kids—they can't help it,” offered Buck. “Didn't + they hobble my cayuse when I was on him an' near bust my neck?” + </p> + <p> + Hopalong interrupted the conversation by driving up another calf, and + Buck, glancing at his watch, declared the contest at an end. + </p> + <p> + “Yu wins,” he remarked to the newcomer. “An' now yu get scarce or Billy + will shore straddle yore nerves. He said as how he was goin' to get square + on yu to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't, neither, Hoppy!” earnestly contradicted Billy, who bad visions + of a night spent in torment as a reprisal for such a threat. “Honest I + didn't, did I, Johnny?” He asked appealingly. + </p> + <p> + “Yu shore did,” lied Johnny, winking at Red, who had just ridden up. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what yore talkin' about, but yu shore did,” replied Red. + </p> + <p> + “If yu did,” grinned Hopalong, “I'll shore make yu hard to find. Come on, + fellows,” he said; “grub's ready. Where's Frenchy?” + </p> + <p> + “Over chewin' th' rag with Waffles about his hat—he's lost it + again,” answered Red. “He needs a guardian fer that bonnet. Th' Kid an' + Salvation has jammed it in th' corral fence an' Waffles has to stand fer + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Let's put it in th' grub wagon an see him cuss cookie,” suggested + Hopalong. + </p> + <p> + “Shore,” indorsed Johnny; Cookie'll feed him bum grub for a week to get + square. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong and Johnny ambled over to the corral and after some trouble + located the missing sombrero, which they carried to the grub wagon and hid + in the flour barrel. Then they went over by the excited owner and dropped + a few remarks about how strange the cook was acting and how he was + watching Frenchy. + </p> + <p> + Frenchy jumped at the bait and tore over to the wagon, where he and the + cook spent some time in mutual recrimination. Hopalong nosed around and + finally dug up the hat, white as new-fallen snow. + </p> + <p> + “Here's a hat—found it in th' dough barrel,” he announced, handing + it over to Frenchy, who received it in open-mouthed stupefaction. + </p> + <p> + “Yu pie-makin' pirate! Yu didn't know where my lid was, did yu! Yu + cross-eyed lump of hypocrisy!” yelled Frenchy, dusting off the flour with + one full-armed swing on the cook's face, driving it into that + unfortunate's nose and eyes and mouth. “Yu white-washed Chink, yu—rub + yore face with water an' yu've got pancakes.” + </p> + <p> + “Hey! What you doin'!” yelled the cook, kicking the spot where he had last + seen Frenchy. “Don't yu know better'n that!” + </p> + <p> + “Yu live close to yoreself or I'll throw yu so high th' sun'll duck,” + replied Frenchy, a smile illuminating his face. + </p> + <p> + “Hey, cookie,” remarked Hopalong confidentially, “I know who put up this + joke on yu. Yu ask Billy who hid th' hat,” suggested the tease. “Here he + comes now—see how queer he looks.” + </p> + <p> + “Th' mournful Piute,” ejaculated the cook. “I'll shore make him wish he'd + kept on his own trail. I'll flavor his slush [coffee] with year-old + dish-rags!” + </p> + <p> + At this juncture Billy ambled up, keeping his weather eye peeled for + trouble. “Who's a dish-rag?” He queried. The cook mumbled something about + crazy hens not knowing when to quit cackling and climbed up in his wagon. + And that night Billy swore off drinking coffee. + </p> + <p> + When the dawn of the next day broke, Hopalong was riding toward the Black + Hills, leaving Billy to untie himself as best he might. + </p> + <p> + The trip was uneventful and several weeks later he entered Red Dog, a + rambling shanty town, one of those western mushrooms that sprang up in a + night. He took up his stand at the Miner's Rest, and finally secured six + claims at the cost of nine hundred hard-earned dollars, a fund subscribed + by the outfits, as it was to be a partnership affair. + </p> + <p> + He rode out to a staked-off piece of hillside and surveyed his purchase, + which consisted of a patch of ground, six holes, six piles of dirt and a + log hut. The holes showed that the claims bad been tried and found + wanting. + </p> + <p> + He dumped his pack of tools and provisions, which he had bought on the way + up, and lugged them into the cabin. After satisfying his curiosity he went + outside and sat down for a smoke, figuring up in his mind how much gold he + could carry on a horse. Then, as he realized that he could get a pack mule + to carry the surplus, he became aware of a strange presence near at hand + and looked up into the muzzle of a Sharp's rifle. He grasped the situation + in a flash and calmly blew several heavy smoke rings around the frowning + barrel. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” He asked slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Nice day, stranger,” replied the man with the rifle, “but don't yu reckon + yu've made a mistake?” + </p> + <p> + Hopalong glanced at the number burned on a near-by stake and carelessly + blew another smoke ring. He was waiting for the gun to waver. + </p> + <p> + “No, I reckons not,” he answered. “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll jest tell yu since yu asks. This yere claim's mine an' I'm a + reg'lar terror, I am. That's why; an' seein' as it is, yu better amble + some.” + </p> + <p> + Hopalong glanced down the street and saw an interested group watching him, + which only added to his rage for being in such a position. Then he started + to say something, faltered and stared with horror at a point several feet + behind his opponent. The “terror” sprang to one side in response to + Hop-along's expression, as if fearing that a snake or some such danger + threatened him. As he alighted in his new position he fell forward and + Hopalong slid a smoking Colt in its holster. + </p> + <p> + Several men left the distant group and ran toward the claim. Hopalong + reached his arm inside the door and brought forth his rifle, with which he + covered their advance. + </p> + <p> + “Anything yu want?” he shouted savagely. + </p> + <p> + The men stopped and two of them started to sidle in front of two others, + but Hopalong was not there for the purpose of permitting a move that would + screen any gun play and he stopped the game with a warning shout. Then the + two held up their hands and advanced. + </p> + <p> + “We wants to git Dan,” called out one of them, nodding at the prostrate + figure. + </p> + <p> + “Come ahead,” replied Hopalong, substituting a Colt for the rifle. + </p> + <p> + They carried their badly wounded and insensible burden back to those whom + they had left, and several curses were hurled at the cowboy, who only + smiled grimly and entered the hut to place things ready for a siege, + should one come. He had one hundred rounds of ammunition and provisions + enough for two weeks, with the assurance of reinforcements long before + that time would expire. He cut several rough loopholes and laid out his + weapons for quick handling. He knew that he could stop any advance during + the day and planned only for night attacks. How long he could go without + sleep did not bother him, because he gave it no thought, as he was + accustomed to short naps and could awaken at will or at the slightest + sound. + </p> + <p> + As dusk merged into dark he crept forth and collected several handfuls of + dry twigs, which he scattered around the hut, as the cracking of these + would warn him of an approach. Then he went in and went to sleep. + </p> + <p> + He awoke at daylight after a good night's rest, and feasted on canned + beans and peaches. Then he tossed the cans out of the door and shoved his + hat out. Receiving no response he walked out and surveyed the town at his + feet. A sheepish grin spread over his face as he realized that there was + no danger. Several red-shirted men passed by him on their way to town, and + one, a grizzled veteran of many gold camps, stopped and sauntered up to + him. + </p> + <p> + “Mornin',” said Hopalong. + </p> + <p> + “Mornin',” replied the stranger. “I thought I'd drop in an' say that I saw + that gun-play of yourn yesterday. Yu ain't got no reason to look fer a + rush. This camp is half white men an' half bullies, an' th' white men + won't stand fer no play like that. Them fellers that jest passed are + neighbors of yourn, an' they won't lay abed if yu needs them. But yu wants + to look out fer th' joints in th' town. Guess this business is out of yore + line,” he finished as he sized Hopalong up. + </p> + <p> + “She shore is, but I'm here to stay. Got tired of punchin' an' reckoned + I'd get rich.” Here he smiled and glanced at the hole. “How're yu makin' + out?” He asked. + </p> + <p> + “'Bout five dollars a day apiece, but that ain't nothin' when grub's so + high. Got reckless th' other day an' had a egg at fifty cents.” + </p> + <p> + Hopalong whistled and glanced at the empty cans at his feet. “Any marshal + in this burg?” + </p> + <p> + “Yep. But he's one of th' gang. No good, an' drunk half th' time an' half + drunk th' rest. Better come down an' have something,” invited the miner. + </p> + <p> + “I'd shore like to, but I can't let no gang get in that door,” replied the + puncher. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's all right; I'll call my pardner down to keep house till yu + gits back. He can hold her all right. Hey, Jake!” he called to a man who + was some hundred paces distant; “Come down here an' keep house till we + gits back, will yu?” + </p> + <p> + The man lumbered down to them and took possession as Hopalong and his + newly found friend started for the town. + </p> + <p> + They entered the “Miner's Rest” and Hopalong fixed the room in his mind + with one swift glance. Three men—and they looked like the crowd he + had stopped before—were playing poker at a table near the window. + Hopalong leaned with his back to the bar and talked, with the players + always in sight. + </p> + <p> + Soon the door opened and a bewhiskered, heavy-set man tramped in, and + walking up to Hopalong, looked him over. + </p> + <p> + “Huh,” he sneered, “Yu are th' gent with th' festive guns that plugged + Dan, ain't yu?” + </p> + <p> + Hopalong looked at him in the eyes and quietly replied: + </p> + <p> + “An' who th' deuce are yu?” + </p> + <p> + The stranger's eyes blazed and his face wrinkled with rage as he + aggressively shoved his jaw close to Hopalong's face. + </p> + <p> + “Yu runt, I'm a better man than yu even if yu do wear hair pants,” + referring to Hopalong's chaps. “Yu cow-wrastlers make me tired, an' I'm + goin' to show yu that this town is too good for you. Yu can say it right + now that yu are a ornery, game-leg—” + </p> + <p> + Hopalong smashed his insulter squarely between the eyes with all the power + of his sinewy body behind the blow, knocking him in a heap under the + table. Then he quickly glanced at the card players and saw a hostile + movement. His gun was out in a flash and he covered the trio as he walked + up to them. Never in all his life had he felt such a desire to kill. His + eyes were diamond points of accumulated fury, and those whom he faced + quailed before him. + </p> + <p> + “Yu scum! Draw, please draw! Pull yore guns an' gimme my chance! Three to + one, an' I'll lay my guns here,” he said, placing them on the bar and + removing his hands. “'Nearer My God to Thee' is purty appropriate fer yu + just now! Yu seem to be a-scared of yore own guns. Git down on yore dirty + knees an' say good an' loud that yu eats dirt! Shout out that yu are too + currish to live with decent men,” he said, even-toned and distinct, his + voice vibrant with passion as he took up his Colts. “Get down!” he + repeated, shoving the weapons forward and pulling back the hammers. + </p> + <p> + The trio glanced at each other, and all three dropped to their knees and + repeated in venomous hatred the words Hopalong said for them. + </p> + <p> + “Now git! An' if I sees yu when I leaves I'll send yu after yore friend. + I'll shoot on sight now. Git!” He escorted them to the door and kicked the + last one out. + </p> + <p> + His miner friend still leaned against the bar and looked his approval. + </p> + <p> + “Well done, youngster! But yu wants to look out—that man,” pointing + to the now groping victim of Hopalong's blow, “is th' marshal of this + town. He or his pals will get yu if yu don't watch th' corners.” + </p> + <p> + Hopalong walked over to the marshal, jerked him to his feet and slammed + him against the bar. Then he tore the cheap badge from its place and threw + it on the floor. Reaching down, he drew the marshal's revolver from its + holster and shoved it in its owner's hand. + </p> + <p> + “Yore th' marshal of this place an' it's too good for me, but yore gain' + to pick up that tin lie,” pointing at the badge, “an' yore goin' to do it + right now. Then yore gain' to get kicked out of that door, an' if yu stops + runnin' while I can see yu I'll fill yu so full of holes yu'll catch cold. + Yore a sumptious marshal, yu are! Yore th' snortingest ki-yi that ever + stuck its tail atween its laigs, yu are. Yu pop-eyed wall flower, yu wants + to peep to yoreself or some papoose'll slide yu over th' Divide so fast yu + won't have time to grease yore pants. Pick up that license-tag an' let me + see you perculate so lively that yore back'll look like a ten-cent piece + in five seconds. Flit!” + </p> + <p> + The marshal, dazed and bewildered, stooped and fumbled for the badge. Then + he stood up and glanced at the gun in his hand and at the eager man before + him. He slid the weapon in his belt and drew his hand across his + fast-closing eyes. Cursing streaks of profanity, he staggered to the door + and landed in a heap in the street from the force of Hopalong's kick. + Struggling to his feet, he ran unsteadily down the block and disappeared + around a corner. + </p> + <p> + The bartender, cool and unperturbed, pushed out three glasses on his + treat: “I've seen yu afore, up in Cheyenne—'member? How's yore + friend Red?” He asked as he filled the glasses with the best the house + afforded. + </p> + <p> + “Well, shore 'nuff! Glad to see yu, Jimmy! What yu doin' away off here?” + Asked Hopalong, beginning to feel at home. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, jest filterin' round like. I'm awful glad to see yu—this yere + wart of a town needs siftin' out. It was only last week I was wishin' one + of yore bunch 'ud show up—that ornament yu jest buffaloed shore + raised th' devil in here, an' I wished I had somebody to prospect his + anatomy for a lead mine. But he's got a tough gang circulating with him. + Ever hear of Dutch Shannon or Blinky Neary? They's with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Dutch Shannon? Nope,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “Bad eggs, an' not a-carin' how they gits square. Th' feller yu' salted + yesterday was a bosom friend of th' marshal's, an' he passed in his chips + last night.” + </p> + <p> + “So?” + </p> + <p> + “Yep. Bought a bottle of ready-made nerve an' went to his own funeral. + Aristotle Smith was lookin' fer him up in Cheyenne last year. Aristotle + said he'd give a century fer five minutes' palaver with him, but he shied + th' town an' didn't come back. Yu know Aristotle, don't yu? He's th' + geezer that made fame up to Poison Knob three years ago. He used to go to + town ridin' astride a log on th' lumber flume. Made four miles in six + minutes with th' promise of a ruction when he stopped. Once when he was + loaded he tried to ride back th' same way he came, an' th' first thing he + knowed he was three miles farther from his supper an' a-slippin' down that + valley like he wanted to go somewhere. He swum out at Potter's Dam an' it + took him a day to walk back. But he didn't make that play again, because + he was frequently sober, an' when he wasn't he'd only stand off an' swear + at th' slide.” + </p> + <p> + “That's Aristotle, all hunk. He's th' chap that used to play checkers with + Deacon Rawlins. They used empty an' loaded shells for men, an' when they + got a king they'd lay one on its side. Sometimes they'd jar th' board an' + they'd all be kings an' then they'd have a cussin' match,” replied + Hopalong, once more restored to good humor. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” responded Jimmy, “he counted his wealth over twice by mistake an' + shore raised a howl when he went to blow it—thought he's been + robbed, an' laid behind th' houses fer a week lookin' fer th' feller that + done it.” + </p> + <p> + “I've heard of that cuss—he shore was th' limit. What become of + him?” Asked the miner. + </p> + <p> + “He ambled up to Laramie an' stuck his head in th' window of that joint by + th' plaza an' hollered 'Fire,' an' they did. He was shore a good feller, + all th' same,” answered the bartender. Hopalong laughed and started for + the door. Turning around he looked at his miner friend and asked: “Comin' + along? I'm goin' back now.” + </p> + <p> + “Nope. Reckon I'll hit th' tiger a whirl. I'll stop in when I passes.” + </p> + <p> + “All right. So long,” replied Hopalong, slipping out of the door and + watching for trouble. There was no opposition shown him, and he arrived at + his claim to find Jake in a heated argument with another of the gang. + </p> + <p> + “Here he comes now,” he said as Hopalong walked up. “Tell him what yu said + to me.” + </p> + <p> + “I said yu made a mistake,” said the other, turning to the cowboy in a + half apologetic manner. + </p> + <p> + “An' what else?” Insisted Jake. + </p> + <p> + “Why, ain't that all?” Asked the claim-jumper's friend in feigned + surprise, wishing that he had kept quiet. + </p> + <p> + “Well I reckons it is if yu can't back up yore words,” responded Jake in + open contempt. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong grabbed the intruder by the collar of his shirt and hauled him + off the claim. “Yu keep off this, understand? I just kicked yore marshal + out in th' street, an' I'll pay yu th' next call. If yu rambles in range + of my guns yu'll shore get in th' way of a slug. Yu an' yore gang wants to + browse on th' far side of th' range or yu'll miss a sunrise some mornin'. + Scoot!” + </p> + <p> + Hopalong turned to his companion and smiled. “What'd he say?” He asked + genially. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he jest shot off his mouth a little. They's all no good. I've + collided with lots of them all over this country. They can't face a good + man an' keep their nerve. What'd yu say to th' marshal?” + </p> + <p> + “I told him what he was an' threw him outen th' street,” replied Hopalong. + “In about two weeks we'll have a new marshal an' he'll shore be a dandy.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes? Why don't yu take th' job yoreself? We're with yu.” + </p> + <p> + “Better man comin'. Ever hear of Buck Peters or Red Connors of th' Bar-20, + Texas?” + </p> + <p> + “Buck Peters? Seems to me I have. Did he punch fer th' Tin-Cup up in + Montana, 'bout twenty years back?” + </p> + <p> + “Shore! Him and Frenchy McAllister punched all over that country an' they + used to paint Cheyenne, too,” replied Hopalong, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “I knows him, then. I used to know Frenchy, too. Are they comin' up here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” responded Hopalong, struggling with another can while waiting for + the fire to catch up. “Better have some grub with me—don't like to + eat alone,” invited the cowboy, the reaction of his late rage swinging him + to the other extreme. + </p> + <p> + When their tobacco had got well started at the close of the meal and + content had taken possession of them Hopalong laughed quietly and finally + spoke: + </p> + <p> + “Did yu ever know Aristotle Smith when yu was up in Montana?” + </p> + <p> + “Did I! Well, me an' Aristotle prospected all through that country till he + got so locoed I had to watch him fer fear he'd blow us both up. He greased + th' fryin' pan with dynamite one night, an' we shore had to eat jerked + meat an' canned stuff all th' rest of that trip. What made yu ask? Is he + comin' up too?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I reckons not. Jimmy, th' bartender, said that he cashed in up at + Laramie. Wasn't he th' cuss that built that boat out there on th' Arizona + desert because he was scared that a flood might come? Th' sun shore warped + that punt till it wasn't even good for a hencoop.” + </p> + <p> + “Nope. That was Sister—Annie Tompkins. He was purty near as bad as + Aristotle, though. He roped a puma up on th' Sacramentos, an' didn't punch + no more fer three weeks. Well, here comes my pardner an' I reckons I'll + amble right along. If yu needs any referee or a side pardner in any + ruction yu has only got to warble up my way. So long.” + </p> + <p> + The next ten days passed quietly, and on the afternoon of the eleventh + Hopalong's miner friend paid him a visit. + </p> + <p> + “Jake recommends yore peaches,” he laughed as he shook Hopalong's hand. + “He says yu boosted another of that crowd. That bein' so I thought I would + drop in an' say that they're comin' after yu to-night, shore. Just heard + of it from yore friend Jimmy. Yu can count on us when th' rush comes. But + why didn't yu say yu was a pard of Buck Peters'? Me an' him used to shoot + up Laramie together. From what yore friend James says, yu can handle this + gang by yore lonesome, but if yu needs any encouragement yu make some sign + an' we'll help th' event along some. They's eight of us that'll be waitin' + up to get th' returns an' we're shore goin' to be in range.” + </p> + <p> + “Gee, it's nice to run across a friend of Buck's! Ain't he a + son-of-a-gun?” Asked Hopalong, delighted at the news. Then, without + waiting for a reply, he went on: “Yore shore square, all right, an' I + hates to refuse yore offer, but I got eighteen friends comin' up an' they + ought to get here by tomorrow. Yu tell Jimmy to head them this way when + they shows up an' I'll have th' claim for them. There ain't no use of yu + fellers gettin' mixed up in this. Th' bunch that's comin' can clean out + any gang this side of sunup, an' I expects they'll shore be anxious to + begin when they finds me eatin' peaches an' wastin' my time shootin' bums. + Yu pass th' word along to yore friends, an' tell them to lay low an' see + th' Arory Boerallis hit this town with its tail up. Tell Jimmy to do it up + good when he speaks about me holdin' th' claim—I likes to see Buck + an' Red fight when they're good an' mad.” + </p> + <p> + The miner laughed and slapped Hopalong on the shoulder. “Yore all right, + youngster! Yore just like Buck was at yore age. Say now, I reckons he + wasn't a reg'lar terror on wheels! Why, I've seen him do more foolish + things than any man I knows of, an' I calculate that if Buck pals with yu + there ain't no water in yore sand. My name's Tom Halloway,” he suggested. + </p> + <p> + “An' mine's Hopalong Cassidy,” was the reply. “I've heard Buck speak of + yu.” + </p> + <p> + “Has yu? Well, don't it beat all how little this world is? Somebody allus + turnin' up that knows somebody yu knows. I'll just amble along, Mr. + Cassidy, an' don't yu be none bashful about callin' if yu needs me. Any + pal of Buck's is my friend. Well, so long,” said the visitor as he strode + off. Then he stopped and turned around. “Hey, mister!” he called. “They + are goin' to roll a fire barrel down agin yu from behind,” indicating by + an outstretched arm the point from where it would start. “If it burns yu + out I'm goin' to take a band from up there,” pointing to a cluster of + rocks well to the rear of where the crowd would work from, “an' I don't + care whether yu likes it or not,” he added to himself. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong scratched his head and then laughed. Taking up a pick and shovel, + he went out behind the cabin and dug a trench parallel with and about + twenty paces away from the rear wall. Heaping the excavated dirt up on the + near side of the cut, he stepped back and surveyed his labor with open + satisfaction. “Roll yore fire barrel an' be dogged,” he muttered. “Mebby + she won't make a bully light for pot shots, though,” he added, grinning at + the execution he would do. + </p> + <p> + Taking up his tools, he went up to the place from where the gang would + roll the barrel, and made half a dozen mounds of twigs, being careful to + make them very flimsy. Then he covered them with earth and packed them + gently. The mounds looked very tempting from the view-point of a marksman + in search of earth-works, and appeared capable of stopping any rifle ball + that could be fired against them. Hopalong looked them over critically and + stepped back. + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to see th' look on th' face of th' son-of-a-gun that uses them + for cover—won't he be surprised” and he grinned gleefully as he + pictured his shots boring through them. Then he placed in the center of + each a chip or a pebble or something that he thought would show up well in + the firelight. + </p> + <p> + Returning to the cabin, he banked it up well with dirt and gravel, and + tossed a few shovelfuls up on the roof as a safety valve to his + exuberance. When he entered the door he had another idea, and fell to work + scooping out a shallow cellar, deep enough to shelter him when lying at + full length. Then he stuck his head out of the window and grinned at the + false covers with their prominent bull's-eyes. + </p> + <p> + “When that prize-winnin' gang of ossified idiots runs up agin' these + fortifications they shore will be disgusted. I'll bet four dollars an' + seven cents they'll think their medicine-man's no good. I hopes that + puff-eyed marshal will pick out that hump with th' chip on it,” and he + hugged himself in anticipation. + </p> + <p> + He then cut down a sapling and fastened it to the roof and on it he tied + his neckerchief, which fluttered valiantly and with defiance in the light + breeze. “I shore hopes they appreciates that,” he remarked whimsically, as + he went inside the hut and closed the door. + </p> + <p> + The early part of the evening passed in peace, and Hopalong, tired of + watching in vain, wished for action. Midnight came, and it was not until + half an hour before dawn that he was attacked. Then a noise sent him to a + loophole, where he fired two shots at skulking figures some distance off. + A fusillade of bullets replied; one of them ripped through the door at a + weak spot and drilled a hole in a can of the everlasting peaches. Hopalong + set the can in the frying pan and then flitted from loophole to loophole, + shooting quick and straight. Several curses told him that he had not + missed, and he scooped up a finger of peach juice. Shots thudded into the + walls of his fort in an unceasing stream, and, as it grew lighter, several + whizzed through the loopholes. He kept close to the earth and waited for + the rush, and when it came sent it back, minus two of its members. + </p> + <p> + As he reloaded his Colts a bullet passed through his shirt sleeve and he + promptly nailed the marksman. He looked out of a crack in the rear wall + and saw the top of an adjoining hill crowned with spectators, all of whom + were armed. Some time later he repulsed another attack and heard a faint + cheer from his friends on the hill. Then he saw a barrel, blazing from end + to end, roll out from the place he had so carefully covered with mounds. + It gathered speed and bounded over the rough ground, flashed between two + rocks and leaped into the trench, where it crackled and roared in vain. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Hopalong, blazing at the mounds as fast as he could fire his + rifle, “we'll just see what yu thinks of yore nice little covers.” + </p> + <p> + Yells of consternation and pain rang out in a swelling chorus, and legs + and arms jerked and flopped, one man, in his astonishment at the shot that + tore open his cheek, sitting up in plain sight of the marksman. Roars of + rage floated up from the main body of the besiegers, and the discomfited + remnant of barrel-rollers broke for real cover. + </p> + <p> + Then he stopped another rush from the front, made upon the supposition + that he was thinking only of the second detachment. A hearty cheer arose + from Tom Halloway and his friends, ensconced in their rocky position, and + it was taken up by those on the hill, who danced and yelled their delight + at the battle, to them more humorous than otherwise. + </p> + <p> + This recognition of his prowess from men of the caliber of his audience + made him feel good, and he grinned: “Gee, I'll bet Halloway an' his + friends is shore itchin' to get in this,” he murmured, firing at a head + that was shown for an instant. “Wonder what Red'll say when Jimmy tells + him—bet he'll plow dust like a cyclone,” and Hopalong laughed, + picturing to himself the satiation of Red's anger. “Old red-headed + son-of-a-gun,” murmured the cowboy affectionately, “he shore can fight.” + </p> + <p> + As he squinted over the sights of his rifle his eye caught sight of a + moving body of men as they cantered over the flats about two miles away. + In his eagerness he forgot to shoot and carefully counted them. “Nine,” he + grumbled. “Wonder what's th' matter?” Fearing that they were not his + friends. Then a second body numbering eight cantered into sight and + followed the first. + </p> + <p> + “Whoop! There's th' Red-head!” he shouted, dancing in his joy. “Now,” he + shouted at the peach can joyously, “yu wait about thirty minutes an' yu'll + shore reckon Hades has busted loose!” + </p> + <p> + He grabbed up his Colts, which he kept loaded for repelling rushes, and + recklessly emptied them into the bushes and between the rocks and trees, + searching every likely place for a human target. Then he slipped his rifle + in a loophole and waited for good shots, having worked off the dangerous + pressure of his exuberance. + </p> + <p> + Soon he heard a yell from the direction of the “Miner's Rest,” and fell to + jamming cartridges into his revolvers so that he could sally out and join + in the fray by the side of Red. + </p> + <p> + The thunder of madly pounding hoofs rolled up the trail, and soon a horse + and rider shot around the corner and headed for the copse. Three more + raced close behind and then a bunch of six, followed by the rest, spread + out and searched for trouble. + </p> + <p> + Red, a Colt in each hand and hatless, stood up in his stirrups and sent + shot after shot into the fleeing mob, which he could not follow on account + of the nature of the ground. Buck wheeled and dashed down the trail again + with Red a close second, the others packed in a solid mass and after them. + At the first level stretch the newcomers swept down and hit their enemies, + going through them like a knife through cheese. Hopalong danced up and + down with rage when he could not find his horse, and had to stand and + yell, a spectator. + </p> + <p> + The fight drifted in among the buildings, where it became a series of + isolated duels, and soon Hopalong saw panic-stricken horses carrying their + riders out of the other side of the town. Then he went gunning for the man + who had rustled his horse. He was unsuccessful and returned to his + peaches. + </p> + <p> + Soon the riders came up, and when they saw Hopalong shove a peach into his + powder-grimed mouth they yelled their delight. + </p> + <p> + “Yu old maverick! Eatin' peaches like yu was afraid we'd git some!” + shouted Red indignantly, leaping down and running up to his pal as though + to thrash him. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong grinned pleasantly and fired a peach against Red's eye. “I was + savin' that one for yu, Reddie,” he remarked, as he avoided Buck's playful + kick. “Yu fellers git to work an' dig up some wealth—I'm hungry.” + Then he turned to Buck: “Yore th' marshal of this town, an' any + son-of-a-gun what don't like it had better write. Oh, yes, here comes Tom + Halloway—'member him?” + </p> + <p> + Buck turned and faced the miner and his hand went out with a jerk. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll be locoed if I didn't punch with yu on th' Tin-Cup!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Yu shore did an' yu was purty devilish, but that there Cassidy of yourn + beats anything I ever seen.” + </p> + <p> + “He's a good kid,” replied Buck, glancing to where Red and Hopalong were + quarreling as to who had eaten the most pie in a contest held some years + before. + </p> + <p> + Johnny, nosing around, came upon the perforated and partially scattered + piles of earth and twigs, and vented his disgust of them by kicking them + to pieces. “Hey! Hoppy! Oh, Hoppy!” he called, “what are these things?” + </p> + <p> + Hopalong jammed Red's hat over that person's eyes and replied: “Oh, them's + some loaded dice I fixed for them.” + </p> + <p> + “Yu son-of-a-gun!” sputtered Red, as he wrestled with his friend in the + exuberance of his pride. “Yu son-of-a-gun! Yu shore ought to be ashamed to + treat 'em that way!” + </p> + <p> + “Shore,” replied Hopalong. “But I ain't!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. The Hospitality of Travennes + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Buck Peters rode into Alkaline one bright September morning and sought + refreshment at the Emporium. Mr. Peters had just finished some business + for his employer and felt the satisfaction that comes with the knowledge + of work well done. He expected to remain in Alkaline for several days, + where he was to be joined by two of his friends and punchers, Mr. Hopalong + Cassidy and Mr. Red Connors, both of whom were at Cactus Springs, seventy + miles to the east. Mr. Cassidy and his friend had just finished a + nocturnal tour of Santa Fe and felt somewhat peevish and dull in + consequence, not to mention the sadness occasioned by the expenditure of + the greater part of their combined capital on such foolishness as faro, + roulette and wet-goods. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Peters and his friends had sought wealth in the Black Hills, where + they had enthusiastically disfigured the earth in the fond expectation of + uncovering vast stores of virgin gold. Their hopes were of an optimistic + brand and had existed until the last canister of cornmeal flour had been + emptied by Mr. Cassidy's burro, which waited not upon it's master's + pleasure nor upon the ethics of the case. When Mr. Cassidy had returned + from exercising the animal and himself over two miles of rocky hillside in + the vain endeavor to give it his opinion of burros and sundry + chastisements, he was requested, as owner of the beast, to give his + counsel as to the best way of securing eighteen breakfasts. Remembering + that the animal was headed north when he last saw it and that it was too + old to eat, anyway, he suggested a plan which had worked successfully at + other times for other ends, namely, poker. Mr. McAllister, an expert at + the great American game, volunteered his service in accordance with the + spirit of the occasion and, half an hour later, he and Mr. Cassidy drifted + into Pell's poker parlors, which were located in the rear of a Chinese + laundry, where they gathered unto themselves the wherewithal for the + required breakfasts. An hour spent in the card room of the “Hurrah” + convinced its proprietor that they had wasted their talents for the past + six weeks in digging for gold. The proof of this permitted the departure + of the outfits with their customary elan. + </p> + <p> + At Santa Fe the various individuals had gone their respective ways, to + reassemble at the ranch in the near future, and for several days they had + been drifting south in groups of twos and threes and, like chaff upon a + stream, had eddied into Alkaline, where Mr. Peters had found them + arduously engaged in postponing the final journey. After he had gladdened + their hearts and soothed their throats by making several pithy remarks to + the bartender, with whom he established their credit, he cautioned them + against letting any one harm them and, smiling at the humor of his + warning, left abruptly. + </p> + <p> + Cactus Springs was burdened with a zealous and initiative organization + known as vigilantes, whose duty it was to extend the courtesies of the + land to cattle thieves and the like. This organization boasted of the name + of Travennes' Terrors and of a muster roll of twenty. There was also a + boast that no one had ever escaped them which, if true, was in many cases + unfortunate. Mr. Slim Travennes, with whom Mr. Cassidy had participated in + an extemporaneous exchange of Colt's courtesies in Santa Fe the year + before, was the head of the organization and was also chairman of the + committee on arrivals, and the two gentlemen of the Bar-20 had not been in + town an hour before he knew of it. + </p> + <p> + Being anxious to show the strangers every attention and having a keen + recollection of the brand of gun-play commanded by Mr. Cassidy, he planned + a smoother method of procedure and one calculated to permit him to enjoy + the pleasures of a good old age. Mr. Travennes knew that horse thieves + were regarded as social enemies, that the necessary proof of their guilt + was the finding of stolen animals in their possession, that death was the + penalty and that every man, whether directly concerned or not, regarded, + himself as judge, jury and executioner. + </p> + <p> + He had several acquaintances who were bound to him by his knowledge of + crimes they had committed and would could not refuse his slightest wish. + Even if they had been free agents they were not above causing the death of + an innocent man. Mr. Travennes, feeling very self-satisfied at his + cleverness, arranged to have the proof placed where it would do the most + harm and intended to take care of the rest by himself. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Connors, feeling much refreshed and very hungry, arose at daylight the + next morning, and dressing quickly, started off to feed and water the + horses. After having several tilts with the landlord about the bucket he + took his departure toward the corral at the rear. Peering through the + gate, he could hardly believe his eyes. He climbed over it and inspected + the animals at close range, and found that those which he and his friend + had ridden for the last two months were not to be seen, but in their + places were two better animals, which concerned him greatly. Being fair + and square himself, he could not understand the change and sought + enlightenment of his more imaginative and suspicious friend. + </p> + <p> + “Hey, Hopalong!” he called, “come out here an' see what th' blazes has + happened!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cassidy stuck his auburn head out of the wounded shutter and + complacently surveyed his companion. Then he saw the horses and looked + hard. + </p> + <p> + “Quit yore foolin', yu old cuss,” he remarked pleasantly, as he groped + around behind him with his feet, searching for his boots. “Anybody would + think yu was a little boy with yore fool jokes. Ain't yu ever goin' to + grow up?” + </p> + <p> + “They've got our bronch,” replied Mr. Connors in an injured tone. “Honest, + I ain't kiddin' yu,” he added for the sake of peace. + </p> + <p> + “Who has?” Came from the window, followed immediately by, “Yu've got my + boots!” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't—they're under th' bunk,” contradicted and explained Mr. + Connors. Then, turning to the matter in his mind he replied, “I don't know + who's got them. If I did do yu think I'd be holdin' hands with myself?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody'd accuse yu of anything like that,” came from the window, + accompanied by an overdone snicker. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Connors flushed under his accumulated tan as he remembered the varied + pleasures of Santa Fe, and he regarded the bronchos in anything but a + pleasant state of mind. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cassidy slid through the window and approached his friend, looking as + serious as he could. + </p> + <p> + “Any tracks?” He inquired, as he glanced quickly over the ground to see + for himself. + </p> + <p> + “Not after that wind we had last night. They might have growed there for + all I can see,” growled Mr. Connors. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon we better hold a pow-wow with th' foreman of this shack an' find + out what he knows,” suggested Mr. Cassidy. “This looks too good to be a + swap.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Connors looked his disgust at the idea and then a light broke in upon + him. “Mebby they was hard pushed an' wanted fresh cayuses,” he said. “A + whole lot of people get hard pushed in this country. Anyhow, we'll + prospect th' boss.” + </p> + <p> + They found the proprietor in his stocking feet, getting the breakfast, and + Mr. Cassidy regarded the preparations with open approval. He counted the + tin plates and found only three, and, thinking that there would be more + plates if there were others to feed, glanced into the landlord's room. Not + finding signs of other guests, on whom to lay the blame for the loss of + his horse, he began to ask questions. + </p> + <p> + “Much trade?” He inquired solicitously. + </p> + <p> + “Yep,” replied the landlord. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cassidy looked at the three tins and wondered if there had ever been + any more with which to supply his trade. “Been out this morning?” he + pursued. + </p> + <p> + “Nope.” + </p> + <p> + “Talks purty nigh as much as Buck,” thought Mr. Cassidy, and then said + aloud, “Anybody else here?” + </p> + <p> + “Nope.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cassidy lapsed into a painful and disgusted silence and his friend + tried his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Who owns a mosaic bronch, Chinee flag on th' near side, Skillet brand?” + asked Mr. Connors. + </p> + <p> + “Quien sabe?” + </p> + <p> + “Gosh, he can nearly keep still in two lingoes,” thought Mr. Cassidy. + </p> + <p> + “Who owns a bob-tailed pinto, saddle-galled, cast in th' near eye, Star + Diamond brand, white stockin' on th' off front prop, with a habit of + scratchin' itself every other minute?” went on Mr. Connors. + </p> + <p> + “Slim Travennes,” replied the proprietor, flopping a flapjack. Mr. Cassidy + reflectively scratched the back of his hand and looked innocent, but his + mind was working overtime. + </p> + <p> + “Who's Slim Travennes?” Asked Mr. Connors, never having heard of that + person, owing to the reticence of his friend. + </p> + <p> + “Captain of th' vigilantes.” + </p> + <p> + “What does he look like on th' general run?” Blandly inquired Mr. Cassidy, + wishing to verify his suspicions. He thought of the trouble he had with + Mr. Travennes up in Santa Fe and of the reputation that gentleman + possessed. Then the fact that Mr. Travennes was the leader of the local + vigilantes came to his assistance and he was sure that the captain had a + hand in the change. All these points existed in misty groups in his mind, + but the next remark of the landlord caused them to rush together and + reveal the plot. + </p> + <p> + “Good,” said the landlord, flopping another flapjack, “and a warnin' to + hoss thieves. + </p> + <p> + “Ahem,” coughed Mr. Cassidy and then continued, “is he a tall, lanky, + yaller-headed son-of-a-gun, with a big nose an' lots of ears?” + </p> + <p> + “Mebby so,” answered the host. + </p> + <p> + “Urn, slopping over into bad Sioux,” thought Mr. Cassidy, and then said + aloud, “How long has he hung around this here layout?” At the same time + passing a warning glance at his companion. + </p> + <p> + The landlord straightened up. “Look here, stranger, if yu hankers after + his pedigree so all-fired hard yu had best pump him.” + </p> + <p> + “I told yu this here feller wasn't a man what would give away all he + knowed,” lied Mr. Connors, turning to his friend and indicating the host. + “He ain't got time for that. Anybody can see that he is a powerful busy + man. An' then he ain't no child.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cassidy thought that the landlord could tell all he knew in about five + minutes and then not break any speed records for conversation, but he + looked properly awed and impressed. “Well, yu needn't go an' get mad about + it! I didn't know, did I?” + </p> + <p> + “Who's gettin' mad?” Pugnaciously asked Mr. Connors. After his injured + feelings had been soothed by Mr. Cassidy's sullen silence he again turned + to the landlord. + </p> + <p> + “What did this Travennes look like when yu saw him last?” Coaxed Mr. + Connors. + </p> + <p> + “Th' same as he does now, as yu can see by lookin' out of th' window. + That's him down th' street,” enlightened the host, thawing to the pleasant + Mr. Connors. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cassidy adopted the suggestion and frowned. Mr. Travennes and two + companions were walking toward the corral and Mr. Cassidy once again slid + out of the window, his friend going by the door. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. Travennes' Discomfiture + </h2> + <p> + When Mr. Travennes looked over the corral fence he was much chagrined to + see a man and a Colt both paying strict attention to his nose. + </p> + <p> + “Mornin', Duke,” said the man with the gun. “Lose anything?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travennes looked back at his friends and saw Mr. Connors sitting on a + rock holding two guns. Mr. Travennes' right and left wings were the + targets and they pitted their frowns against Mr. Connors' smile. + </p> + <p> + “Not that I knows of,” replied Mr. Travennes, shifting his feet uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “Find anything?” Came from Mr. Cassidy as he sidled out of the gate. + </p> + <p> + “Nope,” replied the captain of the Terrors, eying the Colt. “Are yu in the + habit of payin' early mornin' calls to this here corral?” persisted Mr. + Cassidy, playing with the gun. + </p> + <p> + “Ya-as. That's my business—I'm th' captain of the vigilantes.” + </p> + <p> + “That's too bad,” sympathized Mr. Cassidy, moving forward a step. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travennes looked put out and backed off. “What yu mean, stickin' me up + this-away?” He asked indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “Yu needn't go an' get mad,” responded Mr. Cassidy. “Just business. Yore + cayuse an' another shore climbed this corral fence last night an' ate up + our bronchs, an' I just nachurly want to know about it.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travennes looked his surprise and incredulity and craned his neck to + see for himself. When he saw his horse peacefully scratching itself he + swore and looked angrily up the street. Mr. Connors, behind the shack, was + hidden to the view of those on the street, and when two men ran up at a + signal from Mr. Travennes, intending to insert themselves in the + misunderstanding, they were promptly lined up with the first two by the + man on the rock. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down,” invited Mr. Connors, pushing a chunk of air out of the way + with his guns. The last two felt a desire to talk and to argue the case on + its merits, but refrained as the black holes in Mr. Connors' guns hinted + at eruption. “Every time yu opens yore mouths yu gets closer to th' Great + Divide,” enlightened that person, and they were childlike in their belief. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travennes acted as though he would like to scratch his thigh where his + Colt's chafed him, but postponed the event and listened to Mr. Cassidy, + who was asking questions. + </p> + <p> + “Where's our cayuses, General?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travennes replied that he didn't know. He was worried, for he feared + that his captor didn't have a secure hold on the hammer of the ubiquitous + Colt's. + </p> + <p> + “Where's my cayuse?” Persisted Mr. Cassidy. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, but I wants to ask yu how yu got mine,” replied Mr. + Travennes. + </p> + <p> + “Yu tell me how mine got out an' I'll tell yu how yourn got in,” countered + Mr. Cassidy. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Connors added another to his collection before the captain replied. + </p> + <p> + “Out in this country people get in trouble when they're found with other + folks' cayuses,” Mr. Travennes suggested. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cassidy looked interested and replied: “Yu shore ought to borrow some + experience, an' there's lots floating around. More than one man has smoked + in a powder mill, an' th' number of them planted who looked in th' muzzle + of a empty gun is scandalous. If my remarks don't perculate right smart + I'll explain.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travennes looked down the street again, saw number five added to the + line-up, and coughed up chunks of broken profanity, grieving his host by + his lack of courtesy. + </p> + <p> + “Time,” announced Mr. Cassidy, interrupting the round. “I wants them + cayuses an' I wants 'em right now. Yu an' me will amble off an' get 'em. I + won't bore yu with tellin' yu what'll happen if yu gets skittish. Slope + along an' don't be scared; I'm with yu,” assured Mr. Cassidy as he looked + over at Mr. Connors, whose ascetic soul pined for the flapjacks of which + his olfactories caught intermittent whiffs. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Red, I reckons yu has got plenty of room out here for all yu may + corral; anyhow there ain't a whole lot more. My friend Slim an' I are + shore going to have a devil of a time if we can t find them cussed + bronchs. Whew, them flapjacks smell like a plain trail to payday. Just + think of th' nice maple juice we used to get up to Cheyenne on them frosty + mornings.” + </p> + <p> + “Get out of here an' lemme alone! 'What do yu allus want to go an' make a + feller unhappy for? Can't yu keep still about grub when yu knows I ain't + had my morning's feed yet?” Asked Mr. Connors, much aggrieved. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll be back directly an' I'll have them cayuses or a scalp. Yu + tend to business an' watch th' herd. That shorthorn yearling at th' end of + th' line”—pointing to a young man who looked capable of taking risks—“he + looks like he might take a chance an' gamble with yu,” remarked Mr. + Cassidy, placing Mr. Travennes in front of him and pushing back his own + sombrero. “Don't put too much maple juice on them flapjacks, Red,” he + warned as he poked his captive in the back of the neck as a hint to get + along. Fortunately Mr. Connors' closing remarks are lost to history. + </p> + <p> + Observing that Mr. Travennes headed south on the quest, Mr. Cassidy + reasoned that the missing bronchos ought to be somewhere in the north, and + he postponed the southern trip until such time when they would have more + leisure at their disposal. Mr. Travennes showed a strong inclination to + shy at this arrangement, but quieted down under persuasion, and they + started off toward where Mr. Cassidy firmly believed the North Pole and + the cayuses to be. + </p> + <p> + “Yu has got quite a metropolis here,” pleasantly remarked Mr. Cassidy as + under his direction they made for a distant corral. “I can see four + different types of architecture, two of 'em on one residence,” he + continued as they passed a wood and adobe hut. “No doubt the railroad will + put a branch down here some day an' then yu can hire their old cars for + yore public buildings. Then when yu gets a post-office yu will shore make + Chicago hustle some to keep her end up. Let's assay that hollow for + horse-hide; it looks promisin'.” + </p> + <p> + The hollow was investigated but showed nothing other than cactus and baked + alkali. The corral came next, and there too was emptiness. For an hour the + search was unavailing, but at the end of that time Mr. Cassidy began to + notice signs of nervousness on the part of his guest, which grew less as + they proceeded. Then Mr. Cassidy retraced their steps to the place where + the nervousness first developed and tried another way and once more + returned to the starting point. + </p> + <p> + “Yu seems to hanker for this fool exercise,” quoth Mr. Trayennes with much + sarcasm. “If yu reckons I'm fond of this locoed ramblin' yu shore needs + enlightenment.” + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes I do get these fits,” confessed Mr. Cassidy, “an' when I do I'm + dead sore on objections. Let's peek in that there hut,” he suggested. + </p> + <p> + “Huh; yore ideas of cayuses are mighty peculiar. Why don't you look for + 'em up on those cactuses or behind that mesquite? I wouldn't be a heap + surprised if they was roostin' on th' roof. They are mighty knowing + animals, cayuses. I once saw one that could figger like a schoolmarm,” + remarked Mr. Travennes, beginning sarcastically and toning it down as he + proceeded, out of respect for his companion's gun. + </p> + <p> + “Well, they might be in th' shack,” replied Mr. Cassidy. “Cayuses know so + much that it takes a month to unlearn them. I wouldn't like to bet they + ain't in that hut, though.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travennes snickered in a manner decidedly uncomplimentary and began to + whistle, softly at first. The gentleman from the Bar-20 noticed that his + companion was a musician; that when he came to a strong part he increased + the tones until they bid to be heard at several hundred yards. When Mr. + Travennes had reached a most passionate part in “Juanita” and was + expanding his lungs to do it justice he was rudely stopped by the + insistent pressure of his guard's Colt's on the most ticklish part of his + ear. + </p> + <p> + “I shore wish yu wouldn't strain yoreself thataway,” said Mr. Cassidy, + thinking that Mr. Travennes might be endeavoring to call assistance. “I + went an' promised my mother on her deathbed that I wouldn't let nobody + whistle out loud like that, an' th' opery is hereby stopped. Besides, + somebody might hear them mournful tones an' think that something is th' + matter, which it ain't.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travennes substituted heartfelt cursing, all of which was heavily + accented. + </p> + <p> + As they approached the hut Mr. Cassidy again tickled his prisoner and + insisted that he be very quiet, as his cayuse was very sensitive to noise + and it might be there. Mr. Cassidy still thought Mr. Travennes might have + friends in the hut and wouldn't for the world disturb them, as he would + present a splendid target as he approached the building. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. The Tale of a Cigarette + </h2> + <p> + The open door revealed three men asleep on the earthen floor, two of whom + were Mexicans. Mr. Cassidy then for the first time felt called upon to + relieve his companion of the Colt's which so sorely itched that + gentleman's thigh and then disarmed the sleeping guards. + </p> + <p> + “One man an' a half,” murmured Mr. Cassidy, it being in his creed that it + took four Mexicans to make one Texan. + </p> + <p> + In the far corner of the room were two bronchos, one of which tried in + vain to kick Mr. Cassidy, not realizing that he was ten feet away. The + noise awakened the sleepers, who sat up and then sprang to their feet, + their hands instinctively streaking to their thighs for the weapons which + peeked contentedly from the bosom of Mr. Cassidy's open shirt. One of the + Mexicans made a lightning-like grab for the back of his neck for the knife + which lay along his spine and was shot in the front of his neck for his + trouble. The shot spoiled his aim, as the knife flashed past Mr. Cassidy's + arm, wide by two feet, and thudded into the door frame, where it hummed + angrily. + </p> + <p> + “The only man who could do that right was th' man who invented it, Mr. + Bowie, of Texas,” explained Mr. Cassidy to the other Mexican. Then he + glanced at the broncho, that was squealing in rage and fear at the shot, + which sounded like a cannon in the small room, and laughed. + </p> + <p> + “That's my cayuse, all right, an' he wasn't up no cactus nor roostin' on + th' roof, neither. He's th' most affectionate beast I ever saw. It took me + nigh onto six months afore I could ride him without fighting him to a + standstill,” said Mr. Cassidy to his guest. Then he turned to the horse + and looked it over. “Come here! What d'yu mean, acting thataway? Yu ragged + end of nothin' wobbling in space! Yu wall-eyed, ornery, locoed guide to + Hades! Yu won't be so frisky when yu've made them seventy hot miles + between here an' Alkaline in five hours,” he promised, as he made his way + toward the animal. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travennes walked over to the opposite wall and took down a pouch of + tobacco which hung from a peg. He did this in a manner suggesting + ownership, and after he had deftly rolled a cigarette with one hand he put + the pouch in his pocket and, lighting up, inhaled deeply and with much + satisfaction. Mr. Cassidy turned around and glanced the group over, + wondering if the tobacco had been left in the hut on a former call. + </p> + <p> + “Did yu find yore makings?” He asked, with a note of congratulations in + his voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yep. Want one?” Asked Mr. Travennes. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cassidy ignored the offer and turned to the guard whom he had found + asleep. + </p> + <p> + “Is that his tobacco?” He asked, and the guard, anxious to make everything + run smoothly, told the truth and answered: + </p> + <p> + “Shore. He left it here last night,” whereupon Mr. Travennes swore and Mr. + Cassidy smiled grimly. + </p> + <p> + “Then yu knows how yore cayuse got in an' how mine got out,” said the + latter. “I wish yu would explain,” he added, fondling his Colts. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travennes frowned and remained silent. + </p> + <p> + “I can tell yu, anyhow,” continued Mr. Cassidy, still smiling, but his + eyes and jaw belied the smile. “Yu took them cayuses out because yu wanted + yourn to be found in their places. Yu remembered Santa Fe an' it rankled + in yu. Not being man enough to notify me that yu'd shoot on sight an' + being afraid my friends would get yu if yu plugged me on th' sly, yu tried + to make out that me an' Red rustled yore cayuses. That meant a lynching + with me an' Red in th' places of honor. Yu never saw Red afore, but yu + didn't care if he went with me. Yu don't deserve fair play, but I'm going + to give it to yu because I don't want anybody to say that any of th' + Bar-20 ever murdered a man, not even a skunk like yu. My friends have + treated me too square for that. Yu can take this gun an yu can do one of + three things with it, which are: walk out in th' open a hundred paces an' + then turn an walk toward me—after you face me yu can set it a-going + whenever yu want to; the second is, put it under yore hat an' I'll put + mine an' th' others back by the cayuses. Then we'll toss up an' th' lucky + man gets it to use as he wants. Th' third is, shoot yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cassidy punctuated the close of his ultimatum by handing the weapon, + muzzle first, and, because the other might be an adept at “twirling,” he + kept its recipient covered during the operation. Then, placing his second + Colt's with the captured weapons, he threw them through the door, being + very careful not to lose the drop on his now armed prisoner. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travennes looked around and wiped the sweat from his forehead, and + being an observant gentleman, took the proffered weapon and walked to the + east, directly toward the sun, which at this time was halfway to the + meridian. The glare of its straight rays and those reflected from the + shining sand would, in a measure, bother Mr. Cassidy and interfere with + the accuracy of his aim, and he was always thankful for small favors. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travennes was the possessor of accurate knowledge regarding the lay of + the land, and the thought came to him that there was a small but deep hole + out toward the east and that it was about the required distance away. This + had been dug by a man who had labored all day in the burning sun to make + an oven so that he could cook mesquite root in the manner he had seen the + Apaches cook it. Mr. Travennes blessed hobbies, specific and general, + stumbled thoughtlessly and disappeared from sight as the surprised Mr. + Cassidy started forward to offer his assistance. + </p> + <p> + Upon emphatic notification from the man in the hole that his help was not + needed, Mr. Cassidy wheeled around and in great haste covered the distance + separating him from the hut, whereupon Mr. Travennes swore in + self-congratulation and regret. Mr. Cassidy's shots barked a cactus which + leaned near Mr. Travennes' head and flecked several clouds of alkali near + that person's nose, causing him to sneeze, duck, and grin. + </p> + <p> + “It's his own gun,” grumbled Mr. Cassidy as a bullet passed through his + sombrero, having in mind the fact that his opponent had a whole belt full + of .44's. If it had been Mr. Cassidy's gun that had been handed over he + would have enjoyed the joke on Mr. Travennes, who would have had five + cartridges between himself and the promised eternity, as he would have + been unable to use the .44's in Mr. Cassidy's .45, while the latter would + have gladly consented to the change, having as he did an extra .45. Never + before had Mr. Cassidy looked with reproach upon his .45 caliber Colt's, + and he sighed as he used it to notify Mr. Travennes that arbitration was + not to be considered, which that person indorsed, said indorsement passing + so close to Mr. Cassidy's ear that he felt the breeze made by it. + </p> + <p> + “He's been practicin' since I plugged him up in Santa Fe,” thought Mr. + Cassidy, as he retired around the hut to formulate a plan of campaign. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travennes sang “Hi-le, hi-lo,” and other selections, principally + others, and wondered how Mr. Cassidy could hoist him out. The slack of his + belt informed him that he was in the middle of a fast, and suggested + starvation as the derrick that his honorable and disgusted adversary might + employ. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cassidy, while figuring out his method of procedure, absent-mindedly + jabbed a finger in his eye, and the ensuing tears floated an idea to him. + He had always had great respect for ricochet shots since his friend Skinny + Thompson had proved their worth on the hides of Sioux. If he could disturb + the sand and convey several grains of it to Mr. Travennes' eyes the game + would be much simplified. While planning for the proposed excavation, a la + Colt's, he noticed several stones lying near at hand, and a new and better + scheme presented itself for his consideration. If Mr. Travennes could be + persuaded to get out of—well, it was worth trying. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cassidy lined up his gloomy collection and tersely ordered them to + turn their backs to him and to stay in that position, the suggestion being + that if they looked around they wouldn't be able to dodge quickly enough. + He then slipped bits of his lariat over their wrists and ankles, tying + wrists to ankles and each man to his neighbor. That finished to his + satisfaction, he dragged them in the hut to save them from the burning + rays of the sun. + </p> + <p> + Having performed this act of kindness, he crept along the hot sand, taking + advantage of every bit of cover afforded, and at last he reached a point + within a hundred feet of the besieged. During the trip Mr. Travennes sang + to his heart's content, some of the words being improvised for the + occasion and were not calculated to increase Mr. Cassidy's respect for his + own wisdom if he should hear them. Mr. Cassidy heard, however, and several + fragments so forcibly intruded on his peace of mind that he determined to + put on the last verse himself and to suit himself. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Mr. Travennes poked his head up and glanced at the hut. He was + down again so quickly that there was no chance for a shot at him and he + believed that his enemy was still sojourning in the rear of the building, + which caused him to fear that he was expected to live on nothing as long + as he could and then give himself up. Just to show his defiance he + stretched himself out on his back and sang with all his might, his + sombrero over his face to keep the glare of the sun out of his eyes. + </p> + <p> + He was interrupted, however, forgot to finish a verse as he had intended, + and jumped to one side as a stone bounced off his leg. Looking up, he saw + another missile curve into his patch of sky and swiftly bear down on him. + He avoided it by a hair's breadth and wondered what had happened. Then + what Mr. Travennes thought was a balloon, being unsophisticated in matters + pertaining to aerial navigation, swooped down upon him and smote him on + the shoulder and also bounced off. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travennes hastily laid music aside and took up elocution as he dodged + another stone and wished that the mesquite-loving crank had put on a roof. + In evading the projectile he let his sombrero appear on a level with the + desert, and the hum of a bullet as it passed through his head-gear and + into the opposite wall made him wish that there had been constructed a + cellar, also. + </p> + <p> + “Hi-le, hi-lo” intruded upon his ear, as Mr. Cassidy got rid of the + surplus of his heart's joy. Another stone the size of a man's foot shaved + Mr. Travennes' ear and he hugged the side of the hole nearest his enemy. + </p> + <p> + “Hibernate, blank yu!” derisively shouted the human catapult as he + released a chunk of sandstone the size of a quail. “Draw in yore laigs an' + buck,” was his God-speed to the missile. + </p> + <p> + “Hey, yu!” indignantly yowled Mr. Travennes from his defective storm + cellar. “Don't yu know any better'n to heave things thataway?” + </p> + <p> + “Hi-le, hi-lo,” sang Mr. Cassidy, as another stone soared aloft in the + direction of the complainant. Then he stood erect and awaited results with + a Colt's in his hand leveled at the rim of the hole. A hat waved and an + excited voice bit off chunks of expostulation and asked for an armistice. + Then two hands shot up and Mr. Travennes, sore and disgusted and + desperate, popped his head up an blinked at Mr. Cassidy's gun. + </p> + <p> + “Yu was fillin' th' hole up,” remarked Mr. Travennes in an accusing tone, + hiding the real reason for his evacuation. “In a little while I'd a been + th' top of a pile instead of th' bottom of a hole,” he announced, crawling + out and rubbing his head. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cassidy grinned and ordered his prisoner to one side while be secured + the weapon which lay in the hole. Having obtained it as quickly as + possible be slid it in his open shirt and clambered out again. + </p> + <p> + “Yu remind me of a feller I used to know,” remarked Mr. Travennes, as he + led the way to the hut, trying not to limp. “Only he throwed dynamite. + That was th' way he cleared off chaparral—blowed it off. He got so + used to heaving away everything he lit that he spoiled three pipes in two + days.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cassidy laughed at the fiction and then became grave as he pictured + Mr. Connors sitting on the rock and facing down a line of men, any one of + whom was capable of his destruction if given the interval of a second. + </p> + <p> + When they arrived at the hut Mr. Cassidy observed that the prisoners had + moved considerably. There was a cleanly swepttrail four yards long where + they had dragged themselves, and they sat in the end nearer the guns. Mr. + Cassidy smiled and fired close to the Mexican's ear, who lost in one + frightened jump a little of what he had so laboriously gained. + </p> + <p> + “Yu'll wear out yore pants,” said Mr. Cassidy, and then added grimly, “an' + my patience.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Travennes smiled and thought of the man who so ably seconded Mr. + Cassidy's efforts and who was probably shot by this time. The outfit of + the Bar-20 was so well known throughout the land that he was aware the + name of the other was Red Connors. An unreasoning streak of sarcasm swept + over him and he could not resist the opportunity to get in a stab at his + captor. + </p> + <p> + “Mebby yore pard has wore out somebody's patience, too,” said Mr. + Travennes, suggestively and with venom. + </p> + <p> + His captor wheeled toward him, his face white with passion, and Mr. + Travennes shrank back and regretted the words. + </p> + <p> + “I ain't shootin' dogs this here trip,” said Mr. Cassidy, trembling with + scorn and anger, “so yu can pull yourself together. I'll give yu another + chance, but yu wants to hope almighty hard that Red is O. K. If he ain't, + I'll blow yu so many ways at once that if yu sprouts yu'll make a good + acre of weeds. If he is all right yu'd better vamoose this range, for + there won't be no hole for yu to crawl into next time. What friends yu + have left will have to tote yu off an' plant yu,” he finished with + emphasis. He drove the horses outside, and, after severing the bonds on + his prisoners, lined them up. + </p> + <p> + “Yu,” he began, indicating all but Mr. Travennes, “yu amble right smart + toward Canada,” pointing to the north. “Keep a-going till yu gets far + enough away so a Colt won't find yu.” Here he grinned with delight as he + saw his Sharp's rifle in its sheath on his saddle and, drawing it forth, + he put away his Colts and glanced at the trio, who were already + industriously plodding northward. “Hey!” he shouted, and when they + sullenly turned to see what new idea he had found he gleefully waved his + rifle at them and warned them further: “This is a Sharp's an' it's good + for half a mile, so don't stop none too soon.” + </p> + <p> + Having sent them directly away from their friends so they could not have + him “potted” on the way back, he mounted his broncho and indicated to Mr. + Travennes that he, too, was to ride, watching that that person did not + make use of the Winchester which Mr. Connors was foolish enough to carry + around on his saddle. Winchesters were Mr. Cassidy's pet aversion and Mr. + Connors' most prized possession, this difference of opinion having upon + many occasions caused hasty words between them. Mr. Connors, being better + with his Winchester than Mr. Cassidy was with his Sharp's, had frequently + proved that his choice was the wiser, but Mr. Cassidy was loyal to the + Sharp's and refused to be convinced. Now, however, the Winchester became + pregnant with possibilities and, therefore, Mr. Travennes rode a few yards + to the left and in advance, where the rifle was in plain sight, hanging as + it did on the right of Mr. Connors' saddle, which Mr. Travennes graced so + well. + </p> + <p> + The journey back to town was made in good time and when they came to the + buildings Mr. Cassidy dismounted and bade his companion do likewise, there + being too many corners that a fleeing rider could take advantage of. Mr. + Travennes felt of his bumps and did so, wishing hard things about Mr. + Cassidy. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. The Penalty + </h2> + <p> + While Mr. Travennes had been entertained in the manner narrated, Mr. + Connors had passed the time by relating stale jokes to the uproarious + laughter of his extremely bored audience, who had heard the aged efforts + many times since they had first seen the light of day, and most of whom + earnestly longed for a drink. The landlord, hearing the hilarity, had + taken advantage of the opportunity offered to see a free show. Not being + able to see what the occasion was for the mirth, he had pulled on his + boots and made his way to the show with a flapjack in the skillets which, + in his haste, he had forgotten to put down. He felt sure that he would be + entertained, and he was not disappointed. He rounded the corner and was + enthusiastically welcomed by the hungry Mr. Connors, whose ubiquitous guns + coaxed from the skillet its dyspeptic wad. + </p> + <p> + “Th' saints be praised!” ejaculated Mr. Connors as a matter of form, not + having a very clear idea of just what saints were, but he knew what + flapjacks were and greedily overcame the heroic resistance of the one + provided by chance and his own guns. As he rolled his eyes in ecstatic + content the very man Mr. Cassidy had warned him against suddenly arose and + in great haste disappeared around the corner of the corral, from which + point of vantage he vented his displeasure at the treatment he had + received by wasting six shots at the mortified Mr. Connors. + </p> + <p> + “Steady!” sang out that gentleman as the line-up wavered. “He's a + precedent to hell for yu fellers! Don't yu get ambitious, none whatever.” + Then he wondered how long it would take the fugitive to secure a rifle and + return to release the others by drilling him at long range. + </p> + <p> + His thoughts were interrupted by the vision of a red head that climbed + into view over a rise a short distance off and he grinned his delight as + Mr. Cassidy loomed up, jaunty and triumphant. Mr. Cassidy was executing + calisthenics with a Colt in the rear of Mr. Travennes' neck and was + leading the horses. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Connors waved the skillet and his friend grinned his congratulations + at what the token signified. + </p> + <p> + “I see yu got some more,” said Mr. Cassidy, as he went down the line-up + from the rear and collected nineteen weapons of various makes and + conditions, this number being explained by the fact that all but one of + the prisoners wore two. Then he added the five that had kicked against his + ribs ever since he had left the hut, and carefully threaded the end of his + lariat through the trigger guards. + </p> + <p> + “Looks like we stuck up a government supply mule, Red,” he remarked, as he + fastened the whole collection to his saddle. “Fourteen colts, six + Merwin-Hulbert's, three Prescott, an' one puzzle,” he added, examining the + puzzle. “Made in Germany, it says, and it shore looks like it. It's got + little pins stickin' out of th' cylinder, like you had to swat it with a + hammer or a rock, or somethin' to make it go off. Must be damn dangerous, + to most anybody around. Looks more like a cactus than a six-shooter-gosh, + it's a ten-shooter! I allus said them Dutchmen was bloody-minded cusses. + Think of bein' able to shoot yoreself ten times before th' blame thing + stops!” Then looking at the line-up for the owner of the weapon, he + laughed at the woeful countenances displayed. “Did they sidle in by + companies or squads?” He asked. + </p> + <p> + “By twos, mostly. Then they parade-rested an' got discharged from duty. I + had eleven, but one got homesick, or disgusted, or something, an' + deserted. It was that cussed flapjack,” confessed and explained Mr. + Connors. + </p> + <p> + “What!” said Mr. Cassidy in a loud voice. “Got away! Well, we'll have to + make our get-away plumb sudden or we'll never go.” + </p> + <p> + At this instant the escaped man again began his bombardment from the + corner of the corral and Mr. Cassidy paused, indignant at the fusillade + which tore up the dust at his feet. He looked reproachfully at Mr. Connors + and then circled out on the plain until he caught a glimpse of a fleeing + cow-puncher, whose back rapidly grew smaller in the fast-increasing + distance. + </p> + <p> + “That's yore friend, Red,” said Mr. Cassidy as he returned from his + reconnaissance. “He's that short-horn yearling. Mebby he'll come back + again,” he added hopefully. “Anyhow, we've got to move. He'll collect + reinforcements an' mebby they all won't shoot like him. Get up on yore + Clarinda an' hold th' fort for me,” he ordered, pushing the farther horse + over to his friend. Mr. Connors proved that an agile man can mount a + restless horse and not lose the drop, and backed off three hundred yards, + deftly substituting his Winchester for the Colts. Then Mr. Cassidy + likewise mounted with his attention riveted elsewhere and backed off to + the side of his companion. + </p> + <p> + The bombardment commenced again from the corral, but this time Mr. + Connors' rifle slid around in his lap and exploded twice. The bellicose + gentleman of the corral yelled in pain and surprise and vanished. + </p> + <p> + “Purty good for a Winchester,” said Mr. Cassidy in doubtful + congratulation. + </p> + <p> + “That's why I got him,” snapped Mr. Connors in brief reply, and then he + laughed. “Is them th' vigilantes what never let a man get away?” He + scornfully asked, backing down the street and patting his Winchester. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Red, they wasn't all there. They was only twelve all told,” excused + Mr. Cassidy. “An' then we was two,” he explained, as he wished the + collection of six-shooters was on Mr. Connors' horse so they wouldn't bark + his shin. + </p> + <p> + “An we still are,” corrected Mr. Connors, as they wheeled and galloped for + Alkaline. + </p> + <p> + As the sun sank low on the horizon Mr. Peters finished ordering provisions + at the general store, the only one Alkaline boasted, and sauntered to the + saloon where he had left his men. He found diem a few dollars richer, as + they had borrowed ten dollars from the bartender on their reputations as + poker players and had used the money to stake Mr. McAllister in a game + against the local poker champion. + </p> + <p> + “Has Hopalong an' Red showed up yet?” Asked Mr. Peters, frowning at the + delay already caused. + </p> + <p> + “Nope,” replied Johnny Nelson, as he paused from tormenting Billy + Williams. + </p> + <p> + At that minute the doorway was darkened and Mr. Cassidy and Mr. Connors + entered and called for refreshments. Mr. Cassidy dropped a huge bundle of + six-shooters on the floor, making caustic remarks regarding their utility. + </p> + <p> + “What's th' matter?” Inquired Mr. Peters of Mr. Cassidy. “Yu looks mad an' + anxious. An' where in blazes did yu corral them guns?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cassidy drank deep and then reported with much heat what had occurred + at Cactus Springs and added that he wanted to go back and wipe out the + town, said desire being luridly endorsed by Mr. Connors. + </p> + <p> + “Why, shore,” said Mr. Peters, “we'll all go. Such doings must be stopped + instanter.” Then he turned to the assembled outfits and asked for a vote, + which was unanimous for war. + </p> + <p> + Shortly afterward eighteen angry cowpunchers rode to the east, two + red-haired gentlemen well in front and urging speed. It was 8 P.M. when + they left Alkaline, and the cool of the night was so delightful that the + feeling of ease which came upon them made them lax and they lost three + hours in straying from the dim trail. At eight o'clock the next morning + they came in sight of their destination and separated into two squads, Mr. + Cassidy leading the northern division and Mr. Connors the one which + circled to the south. The intention was to attack from two directions, + thus taking the town from front and rear. + </p> + <p> + Cactus Springs lay gasping in the excessive heat and the vigilantes who + had toed Mr. Connors' line the day before were lounging in the shade of + the “Palace” saloon, telling what they would do if they ever faced the + same man again. Half a dozen sympathizers offered gratuitous condolence + and advice and all were positive that they knew where Mr. Cassidy and Mr. + Connors would go when they died. + </p> + <p> + The rolling thunder of madly pounding hoofs disturbed their post-mortem + and they arose in a body to flee from half their number, who, guns in + hands, charged down upon them through clouds of sickly white smoke. + Travennes' Terrors were minus many weapons and they could not be expected + to give a glorious account of themselves. Windows rattled and fell in and + doors and walls gave off peculiar sounds as they grew full of holes. Above + the riot rattled the incessant crack of Colt's and Winchester, emphasized + at close intervals by the assertive roar of buffalo guns. Off to the south + came another rumble of hoofs and Mr. Connors, leading the second squad,—arrived + to participate in the payment of the debt. + </p> + <p> + Smoke spurted from windows and other points of vantage and hung wavering + in the heated air. The shattering of woodwork told of heavy slugs finding + their rest, and the whines that grew and diminished in the air sang the + course of .45s. + </p> + <p> + While the fight raged hottest Mr. Nelson sprang from his horse and ran to + the “Palace,” where he collected and piled a heap of tinder like wood, and + soon the building burst out in flames, which, spreading, swept the town + from end to end. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cassidy fired slowly and seemed to be waiting for something. Mr. + Connors laid aside his hot Winchester and devoted his attention to his + Colts. A spurt of flame and smoke leaped from the window of a 'dobe hut + and Mr. Connors sat down, firing as he went. A howl from the window + informed him that he had made a hit, and Mr. Cassidy ran out and dragged + him to the shelter of a near-by bowlder and asked how much he was hurt. + </p> + <p> + “Not much—in the calf,” grunted Mr. Connors. “He was a bad shot—must + have been the cuss that got away yesterday,” speculated the injured man as + he slowly arose to his feet. Mr. Cassidy dissented from force of habit and + returned to his station. Mr. Travennes, who was sleeping late that + morning, coughed and fought for air in his sleep, awakened in smoke, + rubbed his eyes to make sure and, scorning trousers and shirt, ran clad in + his red woolen undergarments to the corral, where he mounted his scared + horse and rode for the desert and safety. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cassidy, swearing at the marksmanship of a man who fired at his head + and perforated his sombrero, saw a crimson rider sweep down upon him, said + rider being heralded by a blazing .44. + </p> + <p> + “Gosh!” ejaculated Mr. Cassidy, scarcely believing his eyes. “Oh, it's my + friend Slim going to hades,” he remarked to himself in audible and + relieved explanation. Mr. Cassidy's Colts cracked a protest and then he + joined Mr. Peters and the others and with them fought his way out of the + flame-swept town of Cactus Springs. + </p> + <p> + An hour later Mr. Connors glanced behind him at the smoke silhouetted on + the horizon and pushed his way to where Mr. Cassidy rode in silence. Mr. + Connors grinned at his friend of the red hair, who responded in the same + manner. + </p> + <p> + “Did yu see Slim?” Casually inquired Mr. Connors, looking off to the + south. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cassidy sat upright in his saddle and felt of his Colts. “Yes,” he + replied, “I saw him.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Connors thereupon galloped on in silence. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. Rustlers on the Range + </h2> + <p> + The affair at Cactus Springs had more effect on the life at the Bar-20 + than was realized by the foreman. News travels rapidly, and certain men, + whose attributes were not of the sweetest, heard of it and swore + vengeance, for Slim Travennes had many friends, and the result of his + passing began to show itself. Outlaws have as their strongest defense the + fear which they inspire, and little time was lost in making reprisals, and + these caused Buck Peters to ride into Buckskin one bright October morning + and then out the other side of the town. Coming to himself with a start he + looked around shamefacedly and retraced his course. He was very much + troubled, for, as foreman of the Bar-20, he had many responsibilities, and + when things ceased to go aright he was expected not only to find the cause + of the evil, but also the remedy. That was what he was paid seventy + dollars a month for and that was what he had been endeavoring to do. As + yet, however, he had only accomplished what the meanest cook's assistant + had done. He knew the cause of his present woes to be rustlers (cattle + thieves), and that was all. + </p> + <p> + Riding down the wide, quiet street, he stopped and dismounted before the + ever-open door of a ramshackle, one-story frame building. Tossing the + reins over the flattened ears of his vicious pinto he strode into the + building and leaned easily against the bar, where he drummed with his + fingers and sank into a reverie. + </p> + <p> + A shining bald pate, bowed over an open box, turned around and revealed a + florid face, set with two small, twinkling blue eyes, as the proprietor, + wiping his hands on his trousers, made his way to Buck's end of the bar. + </p> + <p> + “Mornin', Buck. How's things?” + </p> + <p> + The foreman, lost in his reverie, continued to stare out the door. + </p> + <p> + “Mornin',” repeated the man behind the bar. “How's things?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” ejaculated the foreman, smiling, “purty cussed.” + </p> + <p> + “Anything flew?” + </p> + <p> + “Th' C-80 lost another herd last night.” + </p> + <p> + His companion swore and placed a bottle at the foreman's elbow, but the + latter shook his head. “Not this mornin'—I'll try one of them vile + cigars, however.” + </p> + <p> + “Them cigars are th' very best that—” began the proprietor, + executing the order. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, heck!” exclaimed Buck with weary disgust. “Yu don't have to palaver + none: I shore knows all that by heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Them cigars—” repeated the proprietor. + </p> + <p> + “Yas, yas; them cigars—I know all about them cigars. Yu gets them + for twenty dollars a thousand an' hypnotizes us into payin' yu a hundred,” + replied the foreman, biting off the end 'of his weed. Then he stared + moodily and frowned. “I wonder why it is?” He asked. “We punchers like + good stuff an' we pays good prices with good money. What do we get? Why, + cabbage leaves an' leather for our smokin' an' alcohol an' extract for our + drink. Now, up in Kansas City we goes to a sumptious layout, pays less an' + gets bang-up stuff. If yu smelled one of them K. C. cigars yu'd shore have + to ask what it was, an' as for the liquor, why, yu'd think St. Peter asked + yu to have one with him. It's shore wrong somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “They have more trade in K. C.,” suggested the proprietor. + </p> + <p> + “An' help, an' taxes, an' a license, an' rent, an' brass, cut glass, + mahogany an' French mirrors,” countered the foreman. + </p> + <p> + “They have more trade,” reiterated the man with the cigars. + </p> + <p> + “Forty men spend thirty dollars apiece with yu every month.” The + proprietor busied himself under the bar. “Yu'll feel better to-morrow. + Anyway, what do yu care, yu won't lose yore job,” he said, emerging. + </p> + <p> + Buck looked at him and frowned, holding back the words which formed in + anger. What was the use, he thought, when every man judged the world in + his own way. + </p> + <p> + “Have yu seen any of th' boys?” He asked, smiling again. + </p> + <p> + “Nary a boy. Who do yu reckon's doin' all this rustlin'?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm reckonin', not shoutin',” responded the foreman. + </p> + <p> + The proprietor looked out the window and grinned: “Here comes one of yourn + now.” + </p> + <p> + The newcomer stopped his horse in a cloud of dust, playfully kicked the + animal in the ribs and entered, dusting the alkali from him with a huge + sombrero. Then he straightened up and sniffed: “What's burnin'?” he asked, + simulating alarm. Then he noticed the cigar between the teeth of his + foreman and grinned: “Gee, but yore a brave man, Buck.” + </p> + <p> + “Hullo, Hopalong,” said the foreman. “Want a smoke?” Waving his hand + toward the box on the bar. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hopalong Cassidy side-stepped and began to roll a cigarette: “Shore, + but I'll burn my own—I know what it is.” + </p> + <p> + “What was yu doin' to my cayuse afore yu come in?” Asked Buck. + </p> + <p> + “Nothin',” replied the newcomer. “That was mine what I kicked in th' + corrugations.” + </p> + <p> + “How is it yore ridin' the calico?” Asked the foreman. “I thought yu was + dead stuck on that piebald.” + </p> + <p> + “That piebald's a goat; he's beein livin' off my pants lately,” responded + Hopalong. “Every time I looks th' other way he ambles over and takes a + bite at me. Yu just wait 'til this rustler business is roped, an' branded, + an' yu'll see me eddicate that blessed scrapheap into eatin' grass again.” + He swiped Billy's shirt th' other day—took it right off th' corral + wall, where Billy's left it to dry. Then, seeing Buck raise his eyebrows, + he explained: “Shore, he washed it again. That makes three times since + last fall.” + </p> + <p> + The proprietor laughed and pushed out the ever-ready bottle, but Hopalong + shoved it aside and told the reason: “Ever since I was up to K. C. I've + been spoiled. I'm drinkin' water an' slush.” + </p> + <p> + “For Pete's sake, has any more of yu fellers been up to K. C.?” queried + the proprietor in alarm. + </p> + <p> + “Shore: Red an' Billy was up there, too.” responded Hopalong. “Red's got a + few remarks to shout to yu about yore pain-killer. Yu better send for some + decent stuff afore he comes to town,” he warned. + </p> + <p> + Buck swung away from the bar and looked at his dead cigar. Then he turned + to Hopalong. “What did you find?” He asked. + </p> + <p> + “Same old story: nice wide trail up to th' Staked Plain—then + nothin'.” + </p> + <p> + “It shore beats me,” soliloquized the foreman. “It shore beats me.” + </p> + <p> + “Think it was Tamale Jose's old gang?” Asked Hopalong. + </p> + <p> + “If it was they took th' wrong trail home—that ain't th' way to + Mexico.” + </p> + <p> + Hopalong tossed aside his half-smoked cigarette. “Well, come on home; + what's th' use stewin' over it? It'll come out all O.K. in th' wash.” Then + he laughed: “There won't be no piebald waitin' for it.” + </p> + <p> + Evading Buck's playful blow he led the way to the door, and soon they were + a cloud of dust on the plain. The proprietor, despairing of customers + under the circumstances, absent-mindedly wiped oil on the bar, and sought + his chair for a nap, grumbling about the way his trade had fallen off, for + there were few customers, and those who did call were heavy with loss of + sleep, and with anxiety, and only paused long enough to toss off their + drink. On the ranges there were occurrences which tried men's souls. + </p> + <p> + For several weeks cattle had been disappearing from the ranges and the + losses had long since passed the magnitude of those suffered when Tamale + Jose and his men had crossed the Rio Grande and repeatedly levied heavy + toll on the sleek herds of the Pecos Valley. Tamale Jose had raided once + too often, and prosperity and plenty had followed on the ranches and the + losses had been forgotten until the fall round-ups clearly showed that + rustlers were again at work. + </p> + <p> + Despite the ingenuity of the ranch owners and the unceasing vigilance and + night rides of the cow-punchers, the losses steadily increased until there + was promised a shortage which would permit no drive to the western + terminals of the railroad that year. For two weeks the banks of the Rio + Grande had been patrolled and sharp-eyed men searched daily for trails + leading southward, for it was not strange to think that the old raiders + were again at work, notwithstanding the fact that they had paid dearly for + their former depredations. + </p> + <p> + The patrols failed to discover anything out of the ordinary and the + searchers found no trails. Then it was that the owners and foremen of the + four central ranches met in Cowan's saloon and sat closeted together for + all of one hot afternoon. + </p> + <p> + The conference resulted in riders being dispatched from all the ranches + represented, and one of the couriers, Mr. Red Connors, rode north, his + destination being far-away Montana. All the ranches within a radius of a + hundred miles received letters and blanks and one week later the Pecos + Valley Cattle-Thief Elimination Association was organized and working, + with Buck as Chief Ranger. + </p> + <p> + One of the outcomes of Buck's appointment was a sudden and marked + immigration into the affected territory. Mr. Connors returned from Montana + with Mr. Frenchy McAllister, the foreman of the Tin-Cup, who was + accompanied by six of his best and most trusted men. Mr. McAllister and + party were followed by Mr. You-bet Somes, foreman of the Two-X-Two of + Arizona, and five of his punchers, and later on the same day Mr. Pie + Willis, accompanied by Mr. Billy Jordan and his two brothers, arrived from + the Panhandle. The O-Bar-O, situated close to the town of Muddy Wells, + increased its payroll by the addition of nine men, each of whom bore the + written recommendation of the foreman of the Bar-20. The C-80, Double + Arrow and the Three Triangle also received heavy reinforcements, and even + Carter, owner of the Barred Horseshoe, far removed from the zone of the + depredations, increased his outfits by half their regular strength. + </p> + <p> + Buck believed that if a thing was worth doing at all that it was worth + doing very well, and his acquaintances were numerous and loyal. The + collection of individuals that responded to the call were noteworthy + examples of “gun-play” and their aggregate value was at par with twice + their numbers in cavalry. + </p> + <p> + Each ranch had one large ranch-house and numerous line-houses scattered + along the boundaries. These latter, while intended as camps for the + outriders, had been erected in the days, none too remote, when Apaches, + Arrapahoes, and even Cheyennes raided southward, and they had been + constructed with the idea of defense paramount. Upon more than one + occasion a solitary line-rider had retreated within their adobe walls and + had successfully resisted all the cunning and ferocity of a score of + paint-bedaubed warriors and, when his outfit had rescued him, emerged none + the worse for his ordeal. + </p> + <p> + On the Bar-20, Buck placed these houses in condition to withstand seige. + Twin barrels of water stood in opposite corners, provisions were stored on + the hanging shelves and the bunks once again reveled in untidiness. Spare + rifles, in pattern ranging from long-range Sharp's and buffalo guns to + repeating rifles, leaned against the walls, and unbroken boxes of + cartridges were piled above the bunks. Instead of the lonesome outrider, + he placed four men to each house, two of whom were to remain at home and + hold the house while their companions rode side by side on their + multi-mile beat. + </p> + <p> + There were six of these houses and, instead of returning each night to the + same line-house, the outriders kept on and made the circuit, thus keeping + every one well informed and breaking the monotony. These measures were + expected to cause the rustling operations to cease at once, but the effect + was to shift the losses to the Double Arrow, the line-houses of which + boasted only one puncher each. Unreasonable economy usually defeats its + object. + </p> + <p> + The Double Arrow was restricted on the north by the Staked Plain, which in + itself was considered a superb defense. The White Sand Hills formed its + eastern boundary and were thought to be second only to the northern + protection. The only reason that could be given for the hitherto + comparative immunity from the attacks of the rustlers was that its cattle + clung to the southern confines where there were numerous springs, thus + making imperative the crossing of its territory to gain the herds. + </p> + <p> + It was in line-house No. 3, most remote of all, that Johnny Redmond fought + his last fight and was found face down in the half ruined house with a + hole in the back of his head, which proved that one man was incapable of + watching all the loop holes in four walls at once. There must have been + some casualties on the other side, for Johnny was reputed to be very + painstaking in his “gunplay,” and the empty shells which lay scattered on + the floor did not stand for as many ciphers, of that his foreman was + positive. + </p> + <p> + He was buried the day he was found, and the news of his death ran quickly + from ranch to ranch and made more than one careless puncher arise and pace + the floor in anger. More men came to the Double Arrow and its sentries + were doubled. The depredations continued, however, and one night a week + later Frank Swift reeled into the ranch-house and fell exhausted across + the supper table. Rolling hoof-beats echoed flatly and died away on the + plain, but the men who pursued them returned empty handed. The wounds of + the unfortunate were roughly dressed and in his delirium he recounted the + fight. His companion was found literally shot to pieces twenty paces from + the door. One wall was found blown in, and this episode, when coupled with + the use of dynamite, was more than could be tolerated. + </p> + <p> + When Buck had been informed of this he called to him Hopalong Cassidy, Red + Connors and Frenchy McAllister, and the next day the three men rode north + and the contingents of the ranches represented in the Association were + divided into two squads, one of which was to remain at home and guard the + ranches; the other, to sleep fully dressed and armed and never to stray + far from their ranch-houses and horses. These latter would be called upon + to ride swiftly and far when the word came. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. Mr. Trendley Assumes Added Importance + </h2> + <p> + That the rustlers were working under a well organized system was evident. + That they were directed by a master of the game was ceaselessly beaten + into the consciousness of the Association by the diversity, dash and + success of their raids. No one, save the three men whom they had + destroyed, had ever seen them. But, like Tamale Jose, they had raided once + too often. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Trendley, more familiarly known to men as “Slippery,” was the + possessor of a biased conscience, if any at all. Tall, gaunt and + weather-beaten and with coal-black eyes set deep beneath hairless + eyebrows, he was sinister and forbidding. Into his forty-five years of + existence he had crowded a century of experience, and unsavory rumors + about him existed in all parts of the great West. From Canada to Mexico + and from Sacramento to Westport his name stood for brigandage. His + operations had been conducted with such consummate cleverness that in all + the accusations there was lacking proof. + </p> + <p> + Only once had he erred, and then in the spirit of pure deviltry and in the + days of youthful folly, and his mistake was a written note. He was even + thought by some to have been concerned in the Mountain Meadow Massacre; + others thought him to have been the leader of the band of outlaws that had + plundered along the Santa Fe Trail in the late '60's. In Montana and + Wyoming he was held responsible for the outrages of the band that had + descended from the Hole-in-the-Wall territory and for over a hundred miles + carried murder and theft that shamed as being weak the most assiduous + efforts of zealous Cheyennes. It was in this last raid that he had made + the mistake and it was in this raid that Frenchy McAllister had lost his + wife. + </p> + <p> + When Frenchy had first been approached by Buck as to his going in search + of the rustlers he had asked to go alone. This had been denied by the + foreman of the Bar-20 because the men whom he had selected to accompany + the scout were of such caliber that their presence could not possibly form + a hindrance. Besides being his most trusted friends they were regarded by + him as being the two best exponents of “gun-play” that the West afforded. + Each was a specialist: Hopalong, expert beyond belief with his Colt's + six-shooters, was only approached by Red, whose Winchester was renowned + for its accuracy. The three made a perfect combination, as the rashness of + the two younger men would be under the controlling influence of a man who + could retain his coolness of mind under all circumstances. + </p> + <p> + When Buck and Frenchy looked into each other's eyes there sprang into the + mind of each the same name—Slippery Trendley. Both had spent the + greater part of a year in fruitless search for that person, the foreman of + the Tin-Cup in vengeance for the murder of his wife, the blasting of his + prospects and the loss of his herds; Buck, out of sympathy for his friend + and also because they had been partners in the Double Y. Now that the + years had passed and the long-sought-for opportunity was believed to be at + hand, there was promised either a cessation of the outrages or that Buck + would never again see his friends. + </p> + <p> + When the three mounted and came to him for final instructions Buck forced + himself to be almost repellent in order to be capable of coherent speech. + Hopalong glanced sharply at him and then understood, Red was all attention + and eagerness and remarked nothing but the words. + </p> + <p> + “Have yu ever heard of Slippery Trendley?” Harshly inquired the foreman. + </p> + <p> + They nodded, and on the faces of the younger men a glint of hatred showed + itself, but Frenchy wore his poker countenance. + </p> + <p> + Buck continued: “Th' reason I asked yu was because I don't want yu to + think yore goin' on no picnic. I ain't shore it's him, but I've had some + hopeful information. Besides, he is th' only man I knows of who's capable + of th' plays that have been made. It's hardly necessary for me to tell yu + to sleep with one eye open and never to get away from yore guns. Now I'm + goin' to tell yu th' hardest part: yu are goin' to search th' Staked Plain + from one end to th' other, an' that's what no white man's ever done to my + knowledge. + </p> + <p> + “Now, listen to this an' don't forget it. Twenty miles north from Last + Stand Rock is a spring; ten miles south of that bend in Hell Arroyo is + another. If yu gets lost within two days from th' time yu enters th' + Plain, put yore left hand on a cactus sometime between sun-up an' noon, + move around until yu are over its shadow an' then ride straight ahead—that's + south. If you goes loco beyond Last Stand Rock, follow th' shadows made + before noon—that's th' quickest way to th' Pecos. Yu all knows what + to do in a sand-storm, so I won't bore you with that. Repeat all I've told + yu,” he ordered and they complied. + </p> + <p> + “I'm tellin' yu this,” continued the foreman, indicating the two + auxiliaries, “because yu might get separated from Frenchy. Now I suggests + that yu look around near the' Devils Rocks: I've heard that there are + several water holes among them, an' besides, they might be turned into + fair corrals. Mind yu, I know what I've said sounds damned idiotic for + anybody that has had as much experience with th' Staked Plain as I have, + but I've had every other place searched for miles around. Th' men of all + th' ranches have been scoutin' an' th' Plain is th' only place left. Them + rustlers has got to be found if we have to dig to hell for them. They've + taken th' pot so many times that they reckons they owns it, an' we've got + to at least make a bluff at drawin' cards. Mebby they're at th' bottom of + th' Pecos,” here he smiled faintly, “but wherever they are, we've got to + find them. I want to holler 'Keno.” + </p> + <p> + “If you finds where they hangs out come away instanter,” here his face + hardened and his eyes narrowed, “for it'll take more than yu three to deal + with them th' way I'm a-hankerin' for. Come right back to th' Double + Arrow, send me word by one of their punchers an' get all the rest you can + afore I gets there. It'll take me a day to get th' men together an' to + reach yu. I'm goin' to use smoke signals to call th' other ranches, so + there won't be no time lost. Carry all th' water yu can pack when yu + leaves th' Double Arrow an' don't depend none on cactus juice. Yu better + take a pack horse to carry it, an' yore grub—yu can shoot it if yu + have to hit th' trail real hard.” + </p> + <p> + The three riders felt of their accouterments, said “So long,” and cantered + off for the pack horse and extra ammunition. Then they rode toward the + Double Arrow, stopping at Cowan's long enough to spend some money, and + reached the Double Arrow at nightfall. Early the next morning they passed + the last line-house and, with the profane well-wishes of its occupants + ringing in their ears, passed onto one of Nature's worst blunders—the + Staked Plain. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. The Search Begins + </h2> + <p> + As the sun arose it revealed three punchers riding away from civilization. + On all sides, stretching to the evil-appearing horizon, lay vast blotches + of dirty-white and faded yellow alkali and sand. Occasionally a dwarfed + mesquite raised its prickly leaves and rustled mournfully. With the + exception of the riders and an occasional Gila monster, no life was + discernible. Cacti of all shapes and sizes reared aloft their forbidding + spines or spread out along the sand. All was dead, ghastly; all was + oppressive, startlingly repellent in its sinister promise; all was the + vastness of desolation. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong knew this portion of the desert for ten miles inward—he had + rescued straying cattle along its southern rim—but once beyond that + limit they would have to trust to chance and their own abilities. There + were water holes on this skillet, but nine out of ten were death traps, + reeking with mineral poisons, colored and alkaline. The two mentioned by + Buck could not be depended on, for they came and went, and more than one + luckless wanderer had depended on them to allay his thirst, and had died + for his trust. + </p> + <p> + So the scouts rode on in silence, noting the half-buried skeletons of + cattle which were strewn plentifully on all sides. Nearly three per cent, + of the cattle belonging to the Double Arrow yearly found death on this + tableland, and the herds of that ranch numbered many thousand heads. It + was this which made the Double Arrow the poorest of the ranches, and it + was this which allowed insufficient sentries in its line-houses. The + skeletons were not all of cattle, for at rare intervals lay the sand-worn + frames of men. + </p> + <p> + On the morning of the second day the oppression increased with the wind + and Red heaved a sigh of restlessness. The sand began to skip across the + plain, in grains at first and hardly noticeable. Hopalong turned in his + saddle and regarded the desert with apprehension. As he looked he saw that + where grains had shifted handfuls were now moving. His mount evinced signs + of uneasiness and was hard to control. + </p> + <p> + A gust of wind, stronger than the others, pricked his face and grains of + sand rolled down his neck. The leather of his saddle emitted strange + noises as if a fairy tattoo was being beaten upon it and he raised his + hand and pointed off toward the east. The others looked and saw what had + appeared to be a fog rise out of the desert and intervene between them and + the sun. As far as eye could reach small whirlwinds formed and broke and + one swept down and covered them with stinging sand. The day became + darkened and their horses whinnied in terror and the clumps of mesquite + twisted and turned to the gusts. + </p> + <p> + Each man knew what was to come upon them and they dismounted, hobbled + their horses and threw them bodily to the earth, wrapping a blanket around + the head of each. A rustling as of paper rubbing together became + noticeable and they threw themselves flat upon the earth, their heads + wrapped in their coats and buried in the necks of their mounts. For an + hour they endured the tortures of hell and then, when the storm had + passed, raised their heads and cursed Creation. Their bodies burned as + though they had been shot with fine needles and their clothes were meshes + where once was tough cloth. Even their shoes were perforated and the + throat of each ached with thirst. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong fumbled at the canteen resting on his hip and gargled his mouth + and throat, washing down the sand which wouldn't come up. His friends did + likewise and then looked around. After some time had elapsed the loss of + their pack horse was noticed and they swore again. Hopalong took the lead + in getting his horse ready for service and then rode around in a circle + half a mile in diameter, but returned empty handed. The horse was gone and + with it went their main supply of food and drink. + </p> + <p> + Frenchy scowled at the shadow of a cactus and slowly rode toward the + northeast, followed closely by his friends. His hand reached for his + depleted canteen, but refrained—water was to be saved until the last + minute. + </p> + <p> + “I'm goin' to build a shack out here an' live in it, I am!” exploded + Hopalong in withering irony as he dug the sand out of his ears and also + from his sixshooter. “I just nachurally dotes on this, I do!” + </p> + <p> + The others were too miserable to even grunt and he neatly severed the head + of a Gila monster from its scaly body as it opened it venomous jaws in + rage at this invasion of its territory. “Lovely place!” he sneered. + </p> + <p> + “You better save them cartridges, Hoppy,” interposed Red as his companion + fired again, feeling that he must say something. + </p> + <p> + “An' what for?” blazed his friend. “To plug sand storms? Anybody what we + find on this God-forsaken lay-out won't have to be shot—they will + commit suicide an' think it's fun! Tell yu what, if them rustlers hangs + out on this sand range they're better men than I reckons they are. Anybody + what hides up here shore earns all he steals.” Hopalong grumbled from + force of habit and because no one else would. His companions understood + this and paid no attention to him, which increased his disgust. + </p> + <p> + “What are we up here for?” He asked, belligerently. “Why, because them + Double Arrow idiots can't even watch a desert! We have to do their work + for them an' they hangs around home an' gets slaughtered! Yes, sir!” he + shouted, “they can't even take care of themselves when they're in + line-houses what are forts. Why, that time we cleaned out them an' th' + C-80 over at Buckskin they couldn't help runnin' into singin' lead!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” drawled Red, whose recollection of that fight was vivid. “Yas, an' + why?” He asked, and then replied to his own question. “Because yu sat up + in a barn behind them, Buck played his gun on th' side window, Pete an' + Skinny lay behind a rock to one side of Buck, me an' Lanky was across th' + Street in front of them, an' Billy an' Johnny was in th' arroyo on th' + other side. Cowan laid on his stummick on th' roof of his place with a + buffalo gun, an' the whole blamed town was agin them. There wasn't five + seconds passed that lead wasn't rippin' through th' walls of their shack. + Th' Houston House wasn't made for no fort, an' besides, they wasn't like + th' gang that's punchin' now. That's why.” + </p> + <p> + Hopalong became cheerful again, for here was a chance to differ from his + friend. The two loved each other the better the more they squabbled. + </p> + <p> + “Yas!” responded Hopalong with sarcasm. “Yas!” he reiterated, drawling it + out. “Yu was in front of them, an' with what? Why, an' old, white-haired, + interfering Winchester, that's what! Me an' my Sharp's—” + </p> + <p> + “Yu and yore Sharp's!” exploded Red, whose dislike for that rifle was very + pronounced. “Yu and yore Sharp's.” + </p> + <p> + “Me an' my Sharp's, as I was palaverin' before bein' interrupted,” + continued Hopalong, “did more damage in five min—” + </p> + <p> + “Says yu!” snapped Red with heat. “All yu an yore Sharp's could do was to + cut yore initials in th' back door of their shack, an'——” + </p> + <p> + “Did more damage in five minutes,” continued Hopalong, “than all th' + blasted Winchesters in th' whole damned town. Why—” + </p> + <p> + “An' then they was cut blamed poor. Every time that cannon of yourn + exploded I shore thought th'—” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Cowan an' his buffalo did more damage (Cowan was reputed to be a + very poor shot) than yu an—” + </p> + <p> + “I thought th' artillery was comin' into th' disturbance. I could see yore + red head—” + </p> + <p> + “MY red head!” exclaimed Hopalong, sizing up the crimson warlock of his + companion. “MY red head!” he repeated, and then turned to Frenchy: “Hey, + Frenchy, who's got th' reddest hair, me or Red?” + </p> + <p> + Frenchy slowly turned in his saddle and gravely scrutinized them. Being + strictly impartial and truthful, he gave up the effort of differentiating + and smiled. “Why, if the tops of yore heads were poked through two holes + in a board an' I didn't know which was which, I'd shore make a mistake if + I tried to name 'em” + </p> + <p> + But Red had the last word. “Anyhow, you didn't have a Sharp's in that + fight—you had a .45-70 Winchester, just like mine!” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon the discussion was directed at the judge, and the forenoon + passed very pleasantly, Frenchy even smiling in his misery. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. Hopalong's Decision + </h2> + <p> + Shortly after noon, Hopalong, who had ridden with his head bowed low in + meditation, looked up and slapped his thigh. Then he looked at Red and + grinned. + </p> + <p> + “Look ahere, Red,” he began, “there ain't no rustlers with their + headquarters on this God-forsaken sand heap, an' there never was. They + have to have water an' lots of it, too, an' th' nearest of any account is + th' Pecos, or some of them streams over in th' Panhandle. Th' Panhandle is + th' best place. There are lots of streams an' lakes over there an' they're + right in a good grass country. Why, an' army could hide over there an' + never be found unless it was hunted for blamed good. Then, again, it's + close to the railroad. Up north aways is th' south branch of th' Santa Fe + Trail an' it's far enough away not to bother anybody in th' middle + Panhandle. Then there's Fort Worth purty near, an' other trails. Didn't + Buck say he had all th' rest of th' country searched? He meant th' Pecos + Valley an th' Davis Mountains country. All th' rustlers would have to do + if they were in th' Panhandle would be to cross th' Canadian an th' + Cimarron an' hit th' trail for th' railroad. Good fords, good grass an' + water all th' way, cattle fat when they are delivered an plenty of room. + Th' more I thinks about it th' more I cottons to the Panhandle.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it shore does sound good,” replied Red, reflectively. + </p> + <p> + “Do yu mean th' Cunningham Lake region or farther north?” + </p> + <p> + “Just th' other side of this blasted desert: anywhere where there's + water,” responded Hopalong, enthusiastically. “I've been doin' some hot + reckonin' for th' last two hours an' this is th' way it looks to me: they + drives th' cows up on this skillet for a ways, then turns east an' hits + th' trail for home an' water. They can get around th' ca on near + Thatcher's Lake by a swing of th' north. I tell yu that's th' only way + out'n this. Who could tell where they turned with th' wind raisin' th' + deuce with the trail? Didn't we follow a trail for a ways, an' then what? + Why, there wasn't none to follow. We can ride north 'till we walk behind + ourselves an' never get a peek at them. I am in favor of headin' for th' + Sulphur Spring Creek district. We can spend a couple of weeks, if we has + to, an' prospect that whole region without havin' to cut our' water down + to a smell an' a taste an live on jerked beef. If we investigates that + country we'll find something else than sand storms, poisoned water holes + an' blisters.” + </p> + <p> + “Ain't th' Panhandle full of nesters (farmers)?” Inquired Red, doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Along th' Canadian an' th' edges, yas; in th' middle, no,” explained + Hopalong. “They hang close together on account of th' war-whoops, an' they + like th' trails purty well because of there allus bein' somebody passin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Buck ought to send some of th' Panhandle boys up there,” suggested Red. + “There's Pie Willis an' th' Jordans—they knows th' Panhandle like yu + knows poker.” + </p> + <p> + Frenchy had paid no apparent attention to the conversation up to this + point, but now he declared himself. “Yu heard what Buck said, didn't yu?” + He asked. “We were told to search th' Staked Plains from one end to th' + other an' I'm goin' to do it if I can hold out long enough. I ain't goin' + to palaver with yu because what yu say can't be denied as far as wisdom is + concerned. Yu may have hit it plumb center, but I knows what I was ordered + to do, an' yu can't get me to go over there if you shouts all night. When + Buck says anything, she goes. He wants to know where th' cards are stacked + an' why he can't holler 'Keno,' an' I'm goin' to find out if I can. Yu can + go to Patagonia if yu wants to, but yu go alone as far as I am concerned.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's better if yu don't go with us,” replied Hopalong, taking it + for granted that Red would accompany him. “Yu can prospect this end of th' + game an' we'll be takin' care of th' other. It's two chances now where we + only had one afore.” + </p> + <p> + “Yu go east an' I'll hunt around as ordered,” responded Frenchy. + </p> + <p> + “East nothin',” replied Hopalong. “Yu don't get me to wallow in hot alkali + an' lose time ridin' in ankle-deep sand when I can hit th' south trail, + skirt th' White Sand Hills an' be in God's country again. I ain't goin' to + wrastle with no ca on this here trip, none whatever. I'm goin' to travel + in style, get to Big Spring by ridin' two miles to where I could only make + one on this stove. Then I'll head north along Sulpher Spring Creek an' + have water an' grass all th' way, barrin' a few stretches. While you are + bein' fricasseed I'll be streakin' through cottonwood groves an' ridin' in + the creek.” + </p> + <p> + “Yu'll have to go alone, then,” said Red, resolutely. “Frenchy ain't + a-goin' to die of lonesomeness on this desert if I knows what I'm about, + an' I reckon I do, some. Me an' him'll follow out what Buck said, hunt + around for a while an' then Frenchy can go back to th' ranch to tell Buck + what's up an' I'll take th' trail yu are a-scared of an' meet yu at th' + east end of Cunningham Lake three days from now.” + </p> + <p> + “Yu better come with me,” coaxed Hopalong, not liking what his friend had + said about being afraid of the trail past the ca on and wishing to have + some one with whom to talk on his trip. “I'm goin' to have a nice long + swim to-morrow night,” he added, trying bribery. + </p> + <p> + “An' I'm goin' to try to keep from hittin' my blisters,” responded Red. “I + don't want to go swimmin' in no creek full of moccasins—I'd rather + sleep with rattlers or copperheads. Every time I sees a cotton-mouth I + feels like I had just sit down on one. + </p> + <p> + “I'll flip a coin to see whether yu comes or not,” proposed Hopalong. + </p> + <p> + “If yu wants to gamble so bad I'll flip yu to see who draws our pay next + month, but not for what you said,” responded Red, choking down the desire + to try his luck. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong grinned and turned toward the south. “If I sees Buck afore yu do, + I'll tell him yu an' Frenchy are growin' watermelons up near Last Stand + Rock an' are waitin' for rain. Well, so long,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Yu tell Buck we're obeyin' orders!” shouted Red, sorry that he was not + going with his bunkie. + </p> + <p> + Frenchy and Red rode on in silence, the latter feeling strangely lonesome, + for he and the departed man had seldom been separated when journeys like + this were to be taken. And when in search of pleasure they were nearly + always together. Frenchy, while being very friendly with Hopalong, a + friendship that would have placed them side by side against any odds, was + not accustomed to his company and did not notice his absence. + </p> + <p> + Red looked off toward the south for the tenth time and for the tenth time + thought that his friend might return. “He's a son-of-a-gun,” he + soliloquized. + </p> + <p> + His companion looked up: “He shore is, an' he's right about this rustler + business, too. But we'll look around for a day or so an' then yu raise + dust for th' Lake. I'll go back to th' ranch an' get things primed, so + there'll be no time lost when we get th' word.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry I went an' said what I did about me takin' th' trail he was + a-scared of,” confessed Red, after a pause. “Why, he ain't a-scared of + nothin'.” + </p> + <p> + “He got back at yu about them watermelons, so what's th' difference?” + Asked Frenchy. “He don't owe yu nothin'.” + </p> + <p> + An hour later they searched the Devil's Rocks, but found no rustlers. + Filling their canteens at a tiny spring and allowing their mounts to drink + the remainder of the water, they turned toward Hell Arroyo, which they + reached at nightfall. Here, also, their search availed them nothing and + they paused in indecision. Then Frenchy turned toward his companion and + advised him to ride toward the Lake in the night when it was comparatively + cool. + </p> + <p> + Red considered and then decided that the advice was good. He rolled a + cigarette, wheeled and faced the east and spurred forward: “So long,” he + called. + </p> + <p> + “So long,” replied Frenchy, who turned toward the south and departed for + the ranch. + </p> + <p> + The foreman of the Bar-20 was cleaning his rifle when he heard the + hoof-beats of a galloping horse and he ran around the corner of the house + to meet the newcomer, whom he thought to be a courier from the Double + Arrow. Frenchy dismounted and explained why he returned alone. + </p> + <p> + Buck listened to the report and then, noting the fire which gleamed in his + friend's eyes, nodded his approval to the course. “I reckon it's Trendley, + Frenchy—I've heard a few things since yu left. An' yu can bet that + if Hopalong an' Red have gone for him he'll be found. I expect action any + time now, so we'll light th' signal fire.” Then he hesitated; “Yu light it—yu've + been waiting a long time for this.” + </p> + <p> + The balls of smoke which rolled upward were replied to by other balls at + different points on the plain, and the Bar-20 prepared to feed the numbers + of hungry punchers who would arrive within the next twenty-four hours. + </p> + <p> + Two hours had not passed when eleven men rode up from the Three Triangle, + followed eight hours later by ten from the O-Bar-O. The outfits of the + Star Circle and the Barred Horseshoe, eighteen in all, came next and had + scarcely dismounted when those of the C-80 and the Double Arrow, fretting + at the delay, rode up. With the sixteen from the Bar-20 the force numbered + seventy-five resolute and pugnacious cowpunchers, all aching to wipe out + the indignities suffered. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. A Problem Solved + </h2> + <p> + Hopalong worried his way out of the desert on a straight line, thus + cutting in half the distance he had traveled when going into it. He camped + that night on the sand and early the next morning took up his journey. It + was noon when he began to notice familiar sights, and an hour later he + passed within a mile of line-house No. 3, Double Arrow. Half an hour later + he espied a cow-puncher riding like mad. Thinking that an investigation + would not be out of place, he rode after the rider and overtook him, when + that person paused and retraced his course. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo, Hopalong!” shouted the puncher and he came near enough to + recognize his pursuer. “Thought yu was farmin' up on th' Staked Plain?” + </p> + <p> + “Hullo, Pie,” replied Hopalong, recognizing Pie Willis. “What was yu + chasin' so hard?” + </p> + <p> + “Coyote—damn 'em, but can't they go some? They're gettin' so thick + we'll shore have to try strichnine an' thin 'em out.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought anybody that had been raised in th' Panhandle would know + better'n to chase greased lightnin',” rebuked Hopalong. “Yu has got about + as much show catchin' one of them as a tenderfoot has of bustin' an + outlawed cayuse.” + </p> + <p> + “Shore; I know it,” responded Pie, grinning. “But it's fun seem' them hunt + th' horizon. What are yu doin' down here an' where are yore pardners?” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon Hopalong enlightened his inquisitive companion as to what had + occurred and as to his reasons for riding south. + </p> + <p> + Pie immediately became enthusiastic and announced his intention of + accompanying Hopalong on his quest, which intention struck that gentleman + as highly proper and wise. Then Pie hastily turned and played at chasing + coyotes in the direction of the line-house, where he announced that his + absence would be accounted for by the fact that he and Hopalong were going + on a journey of investigation into the Panhandle. Billy Jordan who shared + with Pie the accommodations of the house, objected and showed, very + clearly, why he was eminently better qualified to take up the proposed + labors than his companions. The suggestions were fast getting tangled up + with the remarks, when Pie, grabbing a chunk of jerked beef, leaped into + his saddle and absolutely refused to heed the calls of his former + companion and return. He rode to where Hopalong was awaiting him as if he + was afraid he wasn't going to live long enough to get there. Confiding to + his companion that Billy was a “locoed sage hen,” he led the way along the + base of the White Sand Hills and asked many questions. Then they turned + toward the east and galloped hard. + </p> + <p> + It had been Hopalong's intention to carry out what he had told Red and to + go to Big Spring first and thence north along Sulphur Spring Creek, but to + this his guide strongly dissented. There was a short cut, or several of + them for that matter, was Pie's contention, and any one of them would save + a day's hard riding. Hopalong made no objection to allowing his companion + to lead the way over any trail he saw fit, for he knew that Pie had been + born and brought up in the Panhandle, the Cunningham Lake district having + been his back yard, as it were. So they followed the short cut having the + most water and grass, and pounded out a lively tattoo as they raced over + the stretches of sand which seemed to slide beneath them. + </p> + <p> + “What do yu know about this here business?” Inquired Pie, as they raced + past a chaparral and onto the edge of a grassy plain. + </p> + <p> + “Nothin' more'n yu do, only Buck said he thought Slippery Trendley is at + th' bottom of it.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” ejaculated Pie in surprise. “Him!” + </p> + <p> + “Yore on. An' between yu an' me an' th' Devil, I wouldn't be a heap + surprised if Deacon Rankin is with him, neither.” + </p> + <p> + Pie whistled: “Are him an' th' Deacon pals?” + </p> + <p> + “Shore,” replied Hopalong, buttoning up his vest and rolling a cigarette. + “Didn't they allus hang out together! One watched that th' other didn't + get plugged from behind. It was a sort of + yu-scratch-my-back-an'-I'll-scratch-yourn arrangement.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if they still hangs out together, I know where to hunt for our + cows,” responded Pie. “Th' Deacon used to range along th' headwaters of + th' Colorado—it ain't far from Cunningham Lake. Thunderation!” he + shouted, “I knows th' very ground they're on—I can take yu to th' + very shack!” Then to himself he muttered: “An' that doodlebug Billy Jordan + thinkin' he knowed more about th' Panhandle than me!” + </p> + <p> + Hopalong showed his elation in an appropriate manner and his companion + drank deeply from the proffered flask; Thereupon they treated their mounts + to liberal doses of strap-oil and covered the ground with great speed. + </p> + <p> + They camped early, for Hopalong was almost worn out from the exertions of + the past few days and the loss of sleep he had sustained. Pie, too excited + to sleep and having had unbroken rest for a long period, volunteered to + keep guard, and his companion eagerly consented. + </p> + <p> + Early the next morning they broke camp and the evening of the same day + found them fording Sulphur Spring Creek, and their quarry lay only an hour + beyond, according to Pie. Then they forded one of the streams which form + the headwaters of the Colorado, and two hours later they dismounted in a + cottonwood grove. Picketing their horses, they carefully made their way + through the timber, which was heavily grown with brush, and, after half an + hour's maneuvering, came within sight of the further edge. + </p> + <p> + Dropping down on all fours, they crawled to the last line of brush and + looked out over an extensive bottoms. At their feet lay a small river, and + in a clearing on the farther side was a rough camp, consisting of about a + dozen leanto shacks and log cabins in the main collection, and a few + scattered cabins along the edge. A huge fire was blazing before the main + collection of huts, and to the rear of these was an indistinct black mass, + which they knew to be the corral. + </p> + <p> + At a rude table before the fire more than a score of men were eating + supper and others could be heard moving about and talking at different + points in the background. While the two scouts were learning the lay of + the land, they saw Mr. Trendley and Deacon Rankin walk out of the cabin + most distant from the fire, and the latter limped. Then they saw two men + lying on rude cots, and they wore bandages. Evidently Johnny Redmond had + scored in his fight. + </p> + <p> + The odor of burning cowhide came from the corral, accompanied by the + squeals of cattle, and informed them that brands were being blotted out. + Hopalong longed to charge down and do some blotting out of another kind, + but a heavy hand was placed on his shoulder and he silently wormed his way + after Pie as that person led the way back to the horses. Mounting, they + picked their way out of the grove and rode over the plain at a walk. When + far enough away to insure that the noise made by their horses would not + reach the ears of those in the camp they cantered toward the ford they had + taken on the way up. + </p> + <p> + After emerging from the waters of the last forded stream, Pie raised his + hand and pointed off toward the northwest, telling his companion to take + that course to reach Cunningham Lake. He himself would ride south, taking, + for the saving of time, a yet shorter trail to the Double Arrow, from + where he would ride to Buck. He and the others would meet Hopalong and Red + at the split rock they had noticed on their way up. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong shook hands with his guide and watched him disappear into the + night. He imagined he could still catch whiffs of burning cowhide and + again the picture of the camp came to his mind. Glancing again at the + point where Pie had disappeared, he stuffed his sombrero under a strap on + his saddle and slowly rode toward the lake. A coyote slunk past him on a + time-destroying lope and an owl hooted at the foolishness of men. He + camped at the base of a cottonwood and at daylight took up his journey + after a scanty breakfast from his saddle-bags. + </p> + <p> + Shortly before noon he came in sight of the lake and looked for his + friend. He had just ridden around a clump of cotton-woods when he was hit + on the back with something large and soft. Turning in his saddle, with his + Colts ready, he saw Red sitting on a stump, a huge grin extending over his + features. He replaced the weapon, said something about fools and + dismounted, kicking aside the bundle of grass his friend had thrown. + </p> + <p> + “Yore shore easy,” remarked Red, tossing aside his cold cigarette. + “Suppose I was Trendley, where would yu be now?” + </p> + <p> + “Diggin' a hole to put yu in,” pleasantly replied Hopalong. “If I didn't + know he wasn't around this part of the country I wouldn't a rode as I + did.” + </p> + <p> + The man on the stump laughed and rolled a fresh cigarette. Lighting it, he + inquired where Mr. Trendley was, intimating by his words that the rustler + had not been found. + </p> + <p> + “About thirty miles to th' southeast,” responded the other. “He's figurin' + up how much dust he'll have when he gets our cows on th' market. Deacon + Rankin is with him, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Th' deuce!” exclaimed Red, in profound astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Yore right,” replied his companion. Then he explained all the + arrangements and told of the camp. + </p> + <p> + Red was for riding to the rendezvous at once, but his friend thought + otherwise and proposed a swim, which met with approval. After enjoying + themselves in the lake they dressed and rode along the trail Hopalong had + made in coming for his companion, it being the intention of the former to + learn more thoroughly the lay of the land immediately surrounding the + camp. Red was pleased with this, and while they rode he narrated all that + had taken place since the separation on the Plain, adding that he had + found the trail left by the rustlers after they had quitted the desert and + that he had followed it for the last two hours of his journey. It was well + beaten and an eighth of a mile wide. + </p> + <p> + At dark they came within sight of the grove and picketed their horses at + the place used by Pie and Hopalong. Then they moved forward and the same + sight greeted their eyes that had been seen the night before. Keeping well + within the edge of the grove and looking carefully for sentries, they went + entirely around the camp and picked out several places which would be of + strategic value later on. They noticed that the cabin used by Slippery + Trendley was a hundred paces from the main collection of huts and that the + woods came to within a tenth part of that distance of its door. It was + heavily built, had no windows and faced the wrong direction. + </p> + <p> + Moving on, they discovered the storehouse of the enemy, another tempting + place. It was just possible, if a siege became necessary, for several of + the attacking force to slip up to it and either destroy it by fire or take + it and hold it against all comers. This suggested a look at the enemy's + water supply, which was the river. A hundred paces separated it from the + nearest cabin and any rustler who could cross that zone under the fire of + the besiegers would be welcome to his drink. + </p> + <p> + It was very evident that the rustlers had no thought of defense, thinking, + perhaps, that they were immune from attack with such a well covered trail + between them and their foes. Hopalong mentally accused them of harboring + suicidal inclinations and returned with his companion to the horses. They + mounted and sat quietly for a while, and then rode slowly away and at dawn + reached the split rock, where they awaited the arrival of their friends, + one sleeping while the other kept guard. Then they drew a rough map of the + camp, using the sand for paper, and laid out the plan of attack. + </p> + <p> + As the evening of the next day came on they saw Pie, followed by many + punchers, ride over a rise a mile to the south and they rode out to meet + him. + </p> + <p> + When the force arrived at the camp of the two scouts they were shown the + plan prepared for them. Buck made a few changes in the disposition of the + men and then each member was shown where he was to go and was told why. + Weapons were put in a high state of efficiency, canteens were refilled and + haversacks were somewhat depleted. Then the newcomers turned in and slept + while Hopalong and Red kept guard. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. The Call + </h2> + <p> + At three o'clock the next morning a long line of men slowly filed into the + cottonwood grove, being silently swallowed up by the dark. Dismounting, + they left their horses in the care of three of their number and + disappeared into the brush. Ten minutes later forty of the force were + distributed along the edge of the grove fringing on the bank of the river + and twenty more minutes gave ample time for a detachment of twenty to + cross the stream and find concealment in the edge of the woods which ran + from the river to where the corral made an effective barrier on the south. + </p> + <p> + Eight crept down on the western side of the camp and worked their way + close to Mr. Trendley's cabin door, and the seven who followed this + detachment continued and took up their positions at the rear of the + corral, where, it was hoped, some of the rustlers would endeavor to escape + into the woods by working their way through the cattle in the corral and + then scaling the stockade wall. These seven were from the Three Triangle + and the Double Arrow, and they were positive that any such attempt would + not be a success from the view-point of the rustlers. + </p> + <p> + Two of those who awaited the pleasure of Mr. Trendley crept forward, and a + rope swished through the air and settled over the stump which lay most + convenient on the other side of the cabin door. Then the slack moved + toward the woods, raised from the ground as it grew taut and, with the + stump for its axis, swung toward the door, where it rubbed gently against + the rough logs. It was made of braided horsehair, was half an inch in + diameter and was stretched eight inches above the ground. + </p> + <p> + As it touched the door, Lanky Smith, Hopalong and Red stepped out of the + shelter of the woods and took up their positions behind the cabin, Lanky + behind the northeast corner where he would be permitted to swing his right + arm. In his gloved right hand he held the carefully arranged coils of a + fifty-foot lariat, and should the chief of the rustlers escape tripping he + would have to avoid the cast of the best roper in the southwest. + </p> + <p> + The two others took the northwest corner and one of them leaned slightly + forward and gently twitched the tripping-rope. The man at the other end + felt the signal and whispered to a companion, who quietly disappeared in + the direction of the river and shortly afterward the mournful cry of a + whip-poor-will dirged out on the early morning air. It had hardly died + away when the quiet was broken by one terrific crash of rifles, and the + two camp guards asleep at the fire awoke in another world. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Trendley, sleeping unusually well for the unjust, leaped from his bed + to the middle of the floor and alighted on his feet and wide awake. + Fearing that a plot was being consummated to deprive him of his + leadership, he grasped the Winchester which leaned at the head of his bed + and, tearing open the door, crashed headlong to the earth. As he touched + the ground, two shadows sped out from the shelter of the cabin wall and + pounced upon him. Men who can rope, throw and tie a wild steer in thirty + seconds flat do not waste time in trussing operations, and before a minute + had elapsed he was being carried into the woods, bound and helpless. Lanky + sighed, threw the rope over one shoulder and departed after his friends. + </p> + <p> + When Mr. Trendley came to his senses he found himself bound to a tree in + the grove near the horses. A man sat on a stump not far from him, three + others were seated around a small fire some distance to the north, and + four others, one of whom carried a rope, made their way into the brush. He + strained at his bonds, decided that the effort was useless and watched the + man on the stump, who struck a match and lit a pipe. The prisoner watched + the light flicker up and go out and there was left in his mind a picture + that he could never forget. The face which had been so cruelly, so + grotesquely revealed was that of Frenchy McAllister, and across his knees + lay a heavy caliber Winchester. A curse escaped from the lips of the + outlaw; the man on the stump spat at a firefly and smiled. + </p> + <p> + From the south came the crack of rifles, incessant and sharp. The reports + rolled from one end of the clearing to the other and seemed to sweep in + waves from the center of the line to the ends. Faintly in the infrequent + lulls in the firing came an occasional report from the rear of the corral, + where some desperate rustler paid for his venture. + </p> + <p> + Buck went along the line and spoke to the riflemen, and after some time + had passed and the light had become stronger, he collected the men into + groups of five and six. Taking one group and watching it closely, it could + be seen that there was a world of meaning in this maneuver. One man + started firing at a particular window in an opposite hut and then laid + aside his empty gun and waited. When the muzzle of his enemy's gun came + into sight and lowered until it had nearly gained its sight level, the + rifles of the remainder of the group crashed out in a volley and usually + one of the bullets, at least, found its intended billet. This volley + firing became universal among the besiegers and the effect was marked. + </p> + <p> + Two men sprinted from the edge of the woods near Mr. Trendley's cabin and + gained the shelter of the storehouse, which soon broke out in flames. The + burning brands fell over the main collection of huts, where there was much + confusion and swearing. The early hour at which the attack had been + delivered at first led the besieged to believe that it was an Indian + affair, but this impression was soon corrected by the volley firing, which + turned hope into despair. It was no great matter to fight Indians, that + they had done many times and found more or less enjoyment in it; but there + was a vast difference between brave and puncher, and the chances of their + salvation became very small. They surmised that it was the work of the + cow-men on whom they had preyed and that vengeful punchers lay hidden + behind that death-fringe of green willow and hazel. + </p> + <p> + Red, assisted by his inseparable companion, Hopalong, laboriously climbed + up among the branches of a black walnut and hooked one leg over a + convenient limb. Then he lowered his rope and drew up the Winchester which + his accommodating friend fastened to it. Settling himself in a comfortable + position and sheltering his body somewhat by the tree, he shaded his eyes + by a hand and peered into the windows of the distant cabins. + </p> + <p> + “How is she, Red?” Anxiously inquired the man on the ground. + </p> + <p> + “Bully: want to come up?” + </p> + <p> + “Nope. I'm goin' to catch yu when yu lets go,” replied Hopalong with a + grin. + </p> + <p> + “Which same I ain't goin' to,” responded the man in the tree. + </p> + <p> + He swung his rifle out over a forked limb and let it settle in the crotch. + Then he slew his head around until he gained the bead he wished. Five + minutes passed before he caught sight of his man and then he fired. + Jerking out the empty shell he smiled and called out to his friend: “One.” + </p> + <p> + Hopalong grinned and went off to tell Buck to put all the men in trees. + </p> + <p> + Night came on and still the firing continued. Then an explosion shook the + woods. The storehouse had blown up and a sky full of burning timber fell + on the cabins and soon three were half consumed, their occupants dropping + as they gained the open air. One hundred paces makes fine pot-shooting, as + Deacon Rankin discovered when evacuation was the choice necessary to avoid + cremation. He never moved after he touched the ground and Red called out: + “Two,” not knowing that his companion had departed. + </p> + <p> + The morning of the next day found a wearied and hopeless garrison, and + shortly before noon a soiled white shirt was flung from a window in the + nearest cabin. Buck ran along the line and ordered the firing to cease and + caused to be raised an answering flag of truce. A full minute passed and + then the door slowly opened and a leg protruded, more slowly followed by + the rest of the man, and Cheyenne Charley strode out to the bank of the + river and sat down. His example was followed by several others and then an + unexpected event occurred. Those in the cabins who preferred to die + fighting, angered at this desertion, opened fire on their former comrades, + who barely escaped by rolling down the slightly inclined bank into the + river. Red fired again and laughed to himself. Then the fugitives swam + down the river and landed under the guns of the last squad. They were + taken to the rear and, after being bound, were placed under a guard. There + were seven in the party and they looked worn out. + </p> + <p> + When the huts were burning the fiercest the uproar in the corral arose to + such a pitch as to drown all other sounds. There were left within its + walls a few hundred cattle whose brands had not yet been blotted out, and + these, maddened to frenzy by the shooting and the flames, tore from one + end of the enclosure to the other, crashing against the alternate walls + with a noise which could be heard far out on the plain. Scores were + trampled to death on each charge and finally the uproar subsided in sheer + want of cattle left with energy enough to continue. When the corral was + investigated the next day there were found the bodies of four rustlers, + but recognition was impossible. + </p> + <p> + Several of the defenders were housed in cabins having windows in the rear + walls, which the occupants considered fortunate. This opinion was revised, + however, after several had endeavored to escape by these openings. The + first thing that occurred when a man put his head out was the hum of a + bullet, and in two cases the experimenters lost all need of escape. + </p> + <p> + The volley firing had the desired effect, and at dusk there remained only + one cabin from which came opposition. Such a fire was concentrated on it + that before an hour had passed the door fell in and the firing ceased. + There was a rush from the side, and the Barred Horseshoe men who swarmed + through the cabins emerged without firing a shot. The organization that + had stirred up the Pecos Valley ranches had ceased to exist. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. The Showdown + </h2> + <p> + A fire burned briskly in front of Mr. Trendley's cabin that night and + several punchers sat around it occupied in various ways. Two men leaned + against the wall and sang softly of the joys of the trail and the range. + One of them, Lefty Allen, of the O-Bar-O, sang in his sweet tenor, and + other men gradually strolled up and seated themselves on the ground, where + the fitful gleam of responsive pipes and cigarettes showed like fireflies. + The songs followed one after another, first a lover's plea in soft Spanish + and then a rollicking tale of the cow-towns and men. Supper had long since + been enjoyed and all felt that life was, indeed, well worth living. + </p> + <p> + A shadow loomed against the cabin wall and a procession slowly made its + way toward the open door. The leader, Hopalong, disappeared within and was + followed by Mr. Trendley, bound and hobbled and tied to Red, the rear + being brought up by Frenchy, whose rifle lolled easily in the crotch of + his elbow. The singing went on uninterrupted and the hum of voices between + the selections remained unchanged. Buck left the crowd around the fire and + went into the cabin, where his voice was heard assenting to something. + Hopalong emerged and took a seat at the fire, sending two punchers to take + his place. He was joined by Frenchy and Red, the former very quiet. + </p> + <p> + In the center of a distant group were seven men who were not armed. Their + belts, half full of cartridges, supported empty holsters. They sat and + talked to the men around them, swapping notes and experiences, and in + several instances found former friends and acquaintances. These men were + not bound and were apparently members of Buck's force. Then one of them + broke down, but quickly regained his nerve and proposed a game of cards. A + fire was started and several games were immediately in progress. These + seven men were to die at daybreak. + </p> + <p> + As the night grew older man after man rolled himself in his blanket and + lay down where he sat, sinking off to sleep with a swiftness that bespoke + tired muscles and weariness. All through the night, however, there were + twelve men on guard, of whom three were in the cabin. + </p> + <p> + At daybreak a shot from one of the guards awakened every man within + hearing, and soon they romped and scampered down to the river's edge to + indulge in the luxury of a morning plunge. After an hour's horseplay they + trooped back to the cabin and soon had breakfast out of the way. + </p> + <p> + Waffles, foreman of the O-Bar-O, and You-bet Somes strolled over to the + seven unfortunates who had just completed a choking breakfast and nodded a + hearty “Good morning.” Then others came up and finally all moved off + toward the river. Crossing it, they disappeared into the grove and all + sounds of their advance grew into silence. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Trendley, escorted outside for the air, saw the procession as it + became lost to sight in the brush. He sneered and asked for a smoke, which + was granted. Then his guards were changed and the men began to straggle + back from the grove. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Trendley, with his back to the cabin, scowled defiantly at the crowd + that hemmed him in. The coolest, most damnable murderer in the West was + not now going to beg for mercy. When he had taken up crime as a means of + livelihood he had decided that if the price to be paid for his course was + death, he would pay like a man. He glanced at the cottonwood grove, + wherein were many ghastly secrets, and smiled. His hairless eyebrows + looked like livid scars and his lips quivered in scorn and anger. + </p> + <p> + As he sneered at Buck there was a movement in the crowd before him and a + pathway opened for Frenchy, who stepped forward slowly and deliberately, + as if on his way to some bar for a drink. There was something different + about the man who had searched the Staked Plain with Hopalong and Red: he + was not the same puncher who had arrived from Montana three weeks before. + There was lacking a certain air of carelessness and he chilled his + friends, who looked upon him as if they had never really known him. He + walked up to Mr. Trendley and gazed deeply into the evil eyes. + </p> + <p> + Twenty years before, Frenchy McAllister had changed his identity from a + happy-go-lucky, devil-may-care cow-puncher and became a machine. The grief + that had torn his soul was not of the kind which seeks its outlet in tears + and wailing; it had turned and struck inward, and now his deliberate + ferocity was icy and devilish. Only a glint in his eyes told of + exultation, and his words were sharp and incisive; one could well imagine + one heard the click of his teeth as they bit off the consonants: every + letter was clear-cut, every syllable startling in its clearness. + </p> + <p> + “Twenty years and two months ago to-day,” he began, “you arrived at the + ranchhouse of the Double Y, up near the Montana-Wyoming line. Everything + was quiet, except, perhaps, a woman's voice, singing. You entered, and + before you left you pinned a note to that woman's dress. I found it, and + it is due.” + </p> + <p> + The air of carelessness disappeared from the members of the crowd and the + silence became oppressive. Most of those present knew parts of Frenchy's + story, and all were in hearty accord with anything he might do. He reached + within his vest and brought forth a deerskin bag. Opening it, he drew out + a package of oiled silk and from that he took a paper. Carefully replacing + the silk and the bag, he slowly unfolded the sheet in his hand and handed + it to Buck, whose face hardened. Two decades had passed since the foreman + of the Bar-20 had seen that precious sheet, but the scene of its finding + would never fade from his memory. He stood as if carved from stone, with a + look on his face that made the crowd shift uneasily and glance at + Trendley. + </p> + <p> + Frenchy turned to the rustler and regarded him evilly. “You are the + hellish brute that wrote that note,” pointing to the paper in the hand of + his friend. Then, turning again, he spoke: “Buck, read that paper.” + </p> + <p> + The foreman cleared his throat and read distinctly: + </p> + <p> + “McAllister: Yore wife is too blame good to live. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + TRENDLEY.” + </pre> + <p> + There was a shuffling sound, but Buck and Frenchy, silently backed up by + Hopalong and Red, intervened, and the crowd fell back, where it surged in + indecision. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” said Frenchy, “I want you to vote on whether any man here has + more right to do with Slippery Trendley as he sees fit than myself. Any + one who thinks so, or that he should be treated like the others, step + forward. Majority rules.” + </p> + <p> + There was no advance and he spoke again: “Is there any one here who + objects to this man dying?” + </p> + <p> + Hopalong and Red awkwardly bumped their knuckles against their guns and + there was no response. + </p> + <p> + The prisoner was bound with cowhide to the wall of the cabin and four men + sat near and facing him. The noonday meal was eaten in silence, and the + punchers rode off to see about rounding up the cattle that grazed over the + plain as far as eye could see. Supper-time came and passed, and busy men + rode away in all directions. Others came and relieved the guards, and at + midnight another squad took up the vigil. + </p> + <p> + Day broke and the thunder of hoofs as the punchers rounded up the cattle + became very noticeable. One herd swept past toward the south, guarded and + guided by fifteen men. Two hours later and another followed, taking a + slightly different trail so as to avoid the close-cropped grass left by + the first. At irregular intervals during the day other herds swept by, + until six had passed and denuded the plain of cattle. + </p> + <p> + Buck, perspiring and dusty, accompanied by Hopalong and Red, rode up to + where the guards smoked and joked. Frenchy came out of the cabin and + smiled at his friends. Swinging in his left hand was a newly filled Colt's + .45, which was recognized by his friends as the one found in the cabin and + it bore a rough “T” gouged in the butt. + </p> + <p> + Buck looked around and cleared his throat: “We've got th' cows on th' home + trail, Frenchy,” he suggested. + </p> + <p> + “Yas?” Inquired Frenchy. “Are there many?” + </p> + <p> + “Yas,” replied Buck, waving his hand at the guards, ordering them to + follow their friends. “It's a good deal for us: we've done right smart + this hand. An' it's a good thing we've got so many punchers: we got a lot + of cattle to drive.” + </p> + <p> + “About five times th' size of th' herd that blamed near made angels out'en + me an' yu,” responded Frenchy with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “I hope almighty hard that we don't have no stampedes on this here drive. + If th' last herds go wild they'll pick up th' others, an' then there'll be + th' devil to pay.” + </p> + <p> + Frenchy smiled again and shot a glance at where Mr. Trendley was bound to + the cabin wall. + </p> + <p> + Buck looked steadily southward for some time and then flecked a foam-sud + from the flank of his horse. “We are goin' south along th' Creek until we + gets to Big Spring, where we'll turn right smart to th' west. We won't be + able to average more'n twelve miles a day, 'though I'm goin' to drive them + hard. How's yore grub?” + </p> + <p> + “Grub to burn.” + </p> + <p> + “Got yore rope?” Asked the foreman of the Bar-20, speaking as if the + question had no especial meaning. + </p> + <p> + Frenchy smiled: “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + Hopalong absent-mindedly jabbed his spurs into his mount with the result + that when the storm had subsided the spell was broken and he said “So + long,” and rode south, followed by Buck and Red. As they swept out of + sight behind a grove Red turned in his saddle and waved his hat. Buck + discussed with assiduity the prospects of a rainfall and was very cheerful + about the recovery of the stolen cattle. Red could see a tall, + broad-shouldered man standing with his feet spread far apart, swinging a + Colt's .45, and Hopalong swore at everything under the sun. Dust arose in + streaming clouds far to the south and they spurred forward to overtake the + outfits. + </p> + <p> + Buck Peters, riding over the starlit plain, in his desire to reach the + first herd, which slept somewhere to the west of him under the care of + Waffles, thought of the events of the past few weeks and gradually became + lost in the memories of twenty years before, which crowded up before his + mind like the notes of a half-forgotten song. His nature, tempered by two + decades of a harsh existence, softened as he lived again the years that + had passed and as he thought of the things which had been. He was so + completely lost in his reverie that he failed to hear the muffled + hoofbeats of a horse that steadily gained upon him, and when Frenchy + McAllister placed a friendly hand on his shoulder he started as if from a + deep sleep. + </p> + <p> + The two looked at each other and their hands met. The question which + sprang into Buck's eyes found a silent answer in those of his friend. They + rode on side by side through the clear night and together drifted back to + the days of the Double Y. + </p> + <p> + After an hour had passed, the foreman of the Bar-20 turned to his + companion and then hesitated: + </p> + <p> + “Did, did—was he a cur?” + </p> + <p> + Frenchy looked off toward the south and, after an interval, replied: + “Yas.” Then, as an after thought, he added, “Yu see, he never reckoned it + would be that way.” + </p> + <p> + Buck nodded, although he did not fully understand, and the subject was + forever closed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. Mr. Cassidy Meets a Woman + </h2> + <p> + The work of separating the cattle into herds of the different brands was + not a big contract, and with so many men it took but a comparatively short + time, and in two days all signs of the rustlers had faded. It was then + that good news went the rounds and the men looked forward to a week of + pleasure, which was all the sharper accentuated by the grim mercilessness + of the expedition into the Panhandle. Here was a chance for unlimited + hilarity and a whole week in which to give strict attention to celebrating + the recent victory. + </p> + <p> + So one day Mr. Hopalong Cassidy rode rapidly over the plain, thinking + about the joys and excitement promised by the carnival to be held at Muddy + Wells. With that rivalry so common to Western towns the inhabitants + maintained that the carnival was to break all records, this because it was + to be held in their town. Perry's Bend and Buckskin had each promoted a + similar affair, and if this year's festivities were to be an improvement + on those which had gone before, they would most certainly be worth riding + miles to see. Perry's Bend had been unfortunate m being the first to hold + a carnival, inasmuch as it only set a mark to be improved upon, and + Buckskin had taken advantage of this and had added a brass band, and now + in turn was to be eclipsed. + </p> + <p> + The events slated were numerous and varied, the most important being those + which dealt directly with the everyday occupations of the inhabitants of + that section of the country. Broncho busting, steer-roping and tying, + rifle and revolver shooting, trick riding and fancy roping made up the + main features of the programme and were to be set off by horse and foot + racing and other county fair necessities. Altogether, the proud citizens + of the town looked forward with keen anticipation to the coming + excitements, and were prone to swagger a bit and to rub their hands in + condescending egoism, while the crowded gambling halls and saloons, and + the three-card-monte men on the street corners enriched themselves at the + cost of venturesome know-it-ails. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong was firmly convinced that his day of hard riding was well worth + while, for the Bar-20 was to be represented in strength. Probably a + clearer insight into his idea of a carnival can be gained by his + definition, grouchily expressed to Red Connors on the day following the + last affair: “Raise cain, go broke, wake up an' begin punching cows all + over again.” But that was the day after and the day after is always filled + with remorse. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong and Red, having twice in succession won the revolver and rifle + competitions, respectively, hoped to make it 'Three straight.' Lanky + Smith, the Bar-20 rope expert, had taken first prize in the only contest + he had entered. Skinny Thompson had lost and drawn with Lefty Allen, of + the O-Bar-O, in the broncho-busting event, but as Skinny had improved + greatly in the interval, his friends confidently expected him to “yank + first place” for the honor of his ranch. These expectations were backed + with all the available Bar-20 money, and, if they were not realized, + something in the nature of a calamity would swoop down upon and wrap that + ranch in gloom. Since the O-Bar-O was aggressively optimistic the betting + was at even money, hats and guns, and the losers would begin life anew so + far as earthly possessions were concerned. No other competitors were + considered in this event, as Skinny and Lefty had so far outclassed all + others that the honor was believed to lie between these two. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong, blissfully figuring out the chances of the different + contestants, galloped around a clump of mesquite only fifteen miles from + Muddy Wells and stiffened in his saddle, for twenty rods ahead of him on + the trail was a woman. As she heard him approach she turned and waited for + him to overtake her, and when she smiled he raised his sombrero and bowed. + </p> + <p> + “Will you please tell me where I am?” She asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yu are fifteen miles southeast of Muddy Wells,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “But which is southeast?” + </p> + <p> + “Right behind yu,” he answered. “Th' town lies right ahead.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going there?” She asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you will not care if I ride with you?” She asked. “I am a trifle + frightened.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I'd be some pleased if yu do, 'though there ain't nothing out here + to be afraid of now.” + </p> + <p> + “I had no intention of getting lost,” she assured him, “but I dismounted + to pick flowers and cactus leaves and after a while I had no conception of + where I was.” + </p> + <p> + “How is it yu are out here?” He asked. “Yu shouldn't get so far from + town.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, papa is an invalid and doesn't like to leave his room, and the town + is so dull, although the carnival is waking it up somewhat. Having nothing + to do I procured a horse and determined to explore the country. Why, this + is like Stanley and Livingstone, isn't it? You rescued the explorer!” And + she laughed heartily. He wondered who in thunder Stanley and Livingstone + were, but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “I like the West, it is so big and free,” she continued. “But it is very + monotonous at times, especially when compared with New York. Papa swears + dreadfully at the hotel and declares that the food will drive him insane, + but I notice that he eats much more heartily than he did when in the city. + And the service!—it is awful. But when one leaves the town behind it + is splendid, and I can appreciate it because I had such a hard season in + the city last winter—so many balls, parties and theaters that I + simply wore myself out.” + </p> + <p> + “I never hankered much for them things,” Hopalong replied. “An' I don't + like th' towns much, either. Once or twice a year I gets as far as Kansas + City, but I soon tires of it an' hits th' back trail. Yu see, I don't like + a fence country—I wants lots of room an' air.” + </p> + <p> + She regarded him intently: “I know that you will think me very forward.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled and slowly replied: “I think yu are all O. K.” + </p> + <p> + “There do not appear to be many women in this country,” she suggested. + </p> + <p> + “No, there ain't many,” he replied, thinking of the kind to be found in + all of the cow-towns. “They don't seem to hanker for this kind of life—they + wants parties an' lots of dancin' an' them kind of things. I reckon there + ain't a whole lot to tempt em to come. + </p> + <p> + “You evidently regard women as being very frivolous,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm speakin' from there not being any out here,” he responded, + “although I don't know much about them, to tell th' truth. Them what are + out here can't be counted.” Then he flushed and looked away. + </p> + <p> + She ignored the remark and placed her hand to her hair: + </p> + <p> + “Goodness! My hair must look terrible!” + </p> + <p> + He turned and looked: “Yore hair is pretty—I allus did like brown + hair.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed and put back the straggling locks: “It is terrible! Just look + at it! Isn't it awful?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no: I reckons not,” he replied critically. “It looks sort of free + an' easy thataway.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's no matter, it cannot be helped,” she laughed. “Let's race!” + she cried and was off like a shot. + </p> + <p> + He humored her until he saw that her mount was getting unmanageable, when + he quietly overtook her and closed her pony's nostrils with his hand, the + operation having a most gratifying effect. + </p> + <p> + “Joe hadn't oughter let yu had this cayuse,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Why, how do you know of whom I procured it?” She asked. “By th' brand: + it's a O-Bar-O, canceled, with J. H. over it. He buys all of his cayuses + from th' O-Bar-O.” + </p> + <p> + She found out his name, and, after an interval of silence, she turned to + him with eyes full of inquiry: “What is that thorny shrub just ahead?” She + asked. + </p> + <p> + “That's mesquite,” he replied eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me all about it,” she commanded. + </p> + <p> + “Why, there ain't much to tell,” he replied, “only it's a valuable tree + out here. Th' Apaches use it a whole lot of ways. They get honey from th' + blossoms an' glue an' gum, an' they use th' bark for tannin' hide. Th' + dried pods an' leaves are used to feed their cattle, an' th' wood makes + corrals to keep 'em in. They use th' wood for making other things, too, + an' it is of two colors. Th' sap makes a dye what won't wash out, an' th' + beans make a bread what won't sour or get hard. Then it makes a barrier + that shore is a dandy-coyotes an' men can't get through it, an' it + protects a whole lot of birds an' things. Th' snakes hate it like poison, + for th' thorns get under their scales an' whoops things up for 'em. It + keeps th' sand from shiftin', too. Down South where there is plenty of + water, it often grows forty feet high, but up here it squats close to th' + ground so it can save th' moisture. In th' night th' temperature sometimes + falls thirty degrees, an' that helps it, too.” + </p> + <p> + “How can it live without water?” She asked. + </p> + <p> + “It gets all th' water it wants,” he replied, smiling. “Th' tap roots go + straight down 'til they find it, sometimes fifty feet. That's why it don't + shrivel up in th' sun. Then there are a lot of little roots right under it + an' they protects th' tap roots. Th' shade it gives is th' coolest out + here, for th' leaves turn with th' wind an' lets th' breeze + through-they're hung on little stems.” + </p> + <p> + “How splendid!” she exclaimed. “Oh! Look there!” she cried, pointing ahead + of them. A chaparral cock strutted from its decapitated enemy, a + rattlesnake, and disappeared in the chaparral. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong laughed: “Mr. Scissors-bill Road-runner has great fun with + snakes. He runs along th' sand-an' he can run, too—an' sees a snake + takin' a siesta. Snip! goes his bill an' th' snake slides over th' Divide. + Our fighting friend may stop some coyote's appetite before morning, + though, unless he stays where he is.” + </p> + <p> + Just then a gray wolf blundered in sight a few rods ahead of them, and + Hopalong fired instantly. His companion shrunk from him and looked at him + reproachfully. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you do that!” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Why, because they costs us big money every year,” he replied. “There's a + bounty on them because they pull down calves, an' sometimes full grown + cows. I'm shore wonderin' why he got so close—they're usually just + out of range, where they stays.” + </p> + <p> + “Promise me that you will shoot no more while I am with you. + </p> + <p> + “Why, shore: I didn't think yu'd care,” he replied. “Yu are like that + sky-pilot over to Las Cruces—he preached agin killin' things, which + is all right for him, who didn't have no cows.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you go to the missions?” She asked. + </p> + <p> + He replied that he did, sometimes, but forgot to add that it was usually + for the purpose of hilarity, for he regarded sky-pilots with humorous + toleration. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me all about yourself—what you do for enjoyment and all about + your work,” she requested. + </p> + <p> + He explained in minute detail the art of punching cows, and told her more + of the West in half an hour than she could have learned from a year's + experience. She showed such keen interest in his words that it was a + pleasure to talk to her, and he monopolized the conversation until the + town intruded its sprawling collection of unpainted shacks and adobe huts + in their field of vision. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. The Strategy of Mr. Peters + </h2> + <p> + Hopalong and his companion rode into Muddy Wells at noon, and Red Connors, + who leaned with Buck Peters against the side of Tom Lee's saloon, gasped + his astonishment. Buck looked twice to be sure, and then muttered + incredulously: “What th' heck!” Red repeated the phrase and retreated + within the saloon, while Buck stood his ground, having had much experience + with women, inasmuch as he had narrowly escaped marrying. He thought that + he might as well get all the information possible, and waited for an + introduction. It was in vain, however, for the two rode past without + noticing him. + </p> + <p> + Buck watched them turn the corner and then called for Red to come out, but + that person, fearing an ordeal, made no reply and the foreman went in + after him. The timorous one was corraling bracers at the bar and nearly + swallowed down the wrong channel when Buck placed a heavy hand on his + broad shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “G'way!” remarked Red. “I don't want no introduction, none whatever,” he + asserted. “G'way!” he repeated, backing off suspiciously. + </p> + <p> + “Better wait 'til yu are asked,” suggested Buck. “Better wait 'til yu sees + th' rope afore yu duck.” Then he laughed: “Yu bashful fellers make me + plumb disgusted. Why, I've seen yu face a bunch of guns an never turn a + hair, an' here yore all in because yu fear yu'll have to stand around an' + hide yore hands. She won't bite yu. Anyway, from what I saw, Hopalong is + due to be her grub—he never saw me at all, th' chump.” + </p> + <p> + “He shore didn't see me, none,” replied Red with distinct relief. “Are + they gone?” + </p> + <p> + “Shore,” answered Buck. “An' if they wasn't they wouldn't see us, not if + we stood in front of them an' yelled. She's a hummer-stands two hands + under him an' is a whole lot prettier than that picture Cowan has got over + his bar. There's nothing th' matter with his eyesight, but he's plumb + locoed, all th' same. He'll go an' get stuck on her an' then she'll hit + th' trail for home an' mamma, an' he won't be worth his feed for a year.” + Then he paused in consternation: “Thunder, Red: he's got to shoot + to-morrow!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, suppose he has?” Responded Red. “I don't reckon she'll stampede his + gun-play none. + </p> + <p> + “Yu don't reckon, eh?” Queried Buck with much irony. “No, an' that's + what's th' matter with yu. Why, do yu expect to see him to-morrow? Yu + won't if I knows him an' I reckon I do. Nope, he'll be follerin' her all + around.” + </p> + <p> + “He's got sand to burn,” remarked Red in awe. “Wonder how he got to know + her?” + </p> + <p> + “Yu can gamble she did th' introducing part—he ain't got th' nerve + to do it himself. He saved her life, or she thinks he did, or some + romantic nonsense like that. So yu better go around an' get him away, an' + keep him away, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Who, me?” Inquired Red in indignation. “Me go around an' tote him off? I + ain't no wagon: yu go, or send Johnny.” + </p> + <p> + “Johnny would say something real pert an' get knocked into th' middle of + next week for it. He won't do, so I reckon yu better go yoreself,” + responded Buck, smiling broadly and moving off. + </p> + <p> + “Hey, yu! Wait a minute!” cried Red in consternation. Buck paused and Red + groped for an excuse: “Why don't you send Billy?” He blurted in + desperation. + </p> + <p> + The foreman's smile assumed alarming proportions and he slapped his thigh + in joy: “Good boy!” he laughed. “Billy's th' man—good Lord, but + won't he give Cupid cold feet! Rustle around an' send th' pessimistic soul + to me.” + </p> + <p> + Red, grinning and happy, rapidly visited door after door, shouted, “Hey, + Billy!” and proceeded to the next one. He was getting pugnacious at his + lack of success when he espied Mr. Billy Williams tacking along the + accidental street as if he owned it. Mr. Williams was executing fancy + steps and was trying to sing many songs at once. + </p> + <p> + Red stopped and grabbed his bibulous friend as that person veered to + starboard: “Yore a peach of a life-preserver, yu are!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + Billy balanced himself, swayed back and forth and frowned his displeasure + at this unwarranted action: “I ain't no wife-deserter!” he shouted. + “Unrope me an' give me th' trail! No tenderfoot can ride me!” Then he + recognized his friend and grinned joyously: “Shore I will, but only one. + Jus' one more, jus' one more. Yu see, m'friend, it was all Jimmy's fault. + He—” + </p> + <p> + Red secured a chancery hold and dragged his wailing and remonstrating + friend to Buck, who frowned with displeasure. + </p> + <p> + “This yere,” said Red in belligerent disgust, “is th' dod-blasted hero + what's a-goin' to save Hopalong from a mournful future. What are we + a-goin' to do?” + </p> + <p> + Buck slipped the Colt's from Billy's holster and yanked the erring one to + his feet: “Fill him full of sweet oil, source him in th' trough, walk him + around for awhile an' see what it does,” he ordered. + </p> + <p> + Two hours later Billy walked up to his foreman and weakly asked what was + wanted. He looked as though he had just been released from a six-months' + stay in a hospital. + </p> + <p> + “Yu go over to th' hotel an' find Hopalong,” said the foreman sternly. + “Stay with him all th' time, for there is a plot on foot to wing him on + th' sly. If yu ain't mighty spry he'll be dead by night.” + </p> + <p> + Having delivered the above instructions and prevarications, Buck throttled + the laugh which threatened to injure him and scowled at Red, who again + fled into the saloon for fear of spoiling it all with revealed mirth. + </p> + <p> + The convalescent stared in open-mouthed astonishment: + </p> + <p> + “What's he doin' in th' hotel, an' who's goin' to plug him?” He asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yu leave that to me,” replied Buck, “All yu has to do is to get on th' + job with yore gun,” handing the weapon to him, “an' freeze to him like a + flea on a cow. Mebby there'll be a woman in th' game, but that ain't none + of yore funeral—yu do what I said.” + </p> + <p> + “Blast th' women!” exploded Billy, moving off. When he had entered the + hotel Buck went in to Red. + </p> + <p> + “For Pete's sake!” moaned that person in senseless reiteration. “Th' Lord + help Billy! Holy Mackinaw!” he shouted. “Gimme a drink an' let me tell th' + boys.” + </p> + <p> + The members of the outfit were told of the plot and they gave their + uproarious sanction, all needing bracers to sustain them. + </p> + <p> + Billy found the clerk swapping lies with the bartender and, procuring the + desired information, climbed the stairs and hunted for room No. 6. + Discovering it, he dispensed with formality, pushed open the door and + entered. + </p> + <p> + He found his friend engaged in conversation with a pretty young woman, and + on a couch at the far side of the room lay an elderly white-whiskered + gentleman who was reading a magazine. Billy felt like a criminal for a few + seconds and then there came to him the thought that his was a mission of + great import and he braced himself to face any ordeal. “Anyway,” he + thought, “th' prettier they are th' more dust they can raise.” + </p> + <p> + “What are yu doing here?” Cried Hopalong in amazement. + </p> + <p> + “That's all right,” averred the protector, confidentially. + </p> + <p> + “What's all right?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, everything,” replied Billy, feeling uncomfortable. + </p> + <p> + The elderly man hastily sat up and dropped his magazine when he saw the + armed intruder, his eyes as wide open as his mouth. He felt for his + spectacles, but did not need them, for he could see nothing but the Colt's + which Billy jabbed at him. + </p> + <p> + “None of that!” snapped Billy. “'ands up!” he ordered, and the hands went + up so quick that when they stopped the jerk shook the room. Peering over + the gentleman's leg, Billy saw the spectacles and backed to the wall as he + apologized: “It's shore on me, Stranger—I reckoned yu was + contemplatin' some gun-play.” + </p> + <p> + Hopalong, blazing with wrath, arose and shoved Billy toward the hail, when + Mr. Johnny Nelson, oozing fight and importance, intruded his person into + the zone of action. + </p> + <p> + “Lord!” ejaculated the newcomer, staring at the vision of female + loveliness which so suddenly greeted him. “Mamma,” he added under his + breath. Then he tore off his sombrero: “Come out of this, Billy, yu + chump!” he exploded, backing toward the door, being followed by the + protector. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong slammed the door and turned to his hostess, apologizing for the + disturbance. + </p> + <p> + “Who are they?” Palpitated Miss Deane. + </p> + <p> + “What the deuce are they doing up here!” blazed her father. Hopalong + disclaimed any knowledge of them and just then Billy opened the door and + looked in. + </p> + <p> + “There he is again!” cried Miss Deane, and her father gasped. Hopalong ran + out into the hall and narrowly missed kicking Billy into Kingdom Come as + that person slid down the stairs, surprised and indignant. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Billy Williams, who sat at the top of the stairs, was feeling hungry + and thirsty when he saw his friend, Mr. Pete Wilson, the slow witted, + approaching. + </p> + <p> + “Hey, Pete,” he called, “come up here an' watch this door while I rustles + some grub. Keep yore eyes open,” he cautioned. + </p> + <p> + As Pete began to feel restless the door opened and a dignified gentleman + with white whiskers came out into the hall and then retreated with great + haste and no dignity. Pete got the drop on the door and waited. Hopalong + yanked it open and kissed the muzzle of the weapon before he could stop, + and Pete grinned. + </p> + <p> + “Coming to th' fight?” He loudly asked. “It's going to be a shore 'nough + sumptious scrap—just th' kind yu allus like. Come on, th' boys are + waitin' for yu.” + </p> + <p> + “Keep quiet!” hissed Hopalong. + </p> + <p> + “What for?” Asked Pete in surprise. “Didn't yu say yu shore wanted to see + that scrap?” + </p> + <p> + “Shut yore face an' get scarce, or yu'll go home in cans!” + </p> + <p> + As Hopalong seated himself once more Red strolled up to the door and + knocked. Hopalong ripped it open and Red, looking as fierce and worried as + he could, asked Hopalong if he was all right. Upon being assured by + smoking adjectives that he was, the caller looked relieved and turned + thoughtfully away. + </p> + <p> + “Hey, yu! Come here!” called Hopalong. + </p> + <p> + Red waved his hand and said that he had to meet a man and clattered down + the stairs. Hopalong thought that he, also, had to meet a man and, + excusing himself, hastened after his friend and overtook him in the + Street, where he forced a confession. Returning to his hostess he told her + of the whole outrage, and she was angry at first, but seeing the humorous + side of it, she became convulsed with laughter. Her father re-read his + paragraph for the thirteenth time and then, slamming the magazine on the + floor, asked how many times he was expected to read ten lines before he + knew what was in them, and went down to the bar. + </p> + <p> + Miss Deane regarded her companion with laughing eyes and then became + suddenly sober as he came toward her. + </p> + <p> + “Go to your foreman and tell him that you will shoot to-morrow, for I will + see that you do, and I will bring luck to the Bar-20. Be sure to call for + me at one o'clock: I will be ready.” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated, bowed, and slowly departed, making his way to Tom Lee's, + where his entrance hushed the hilarity which had reigned. Striding to + where Buck stood, he placed his hands on his hips and searched the + foreman's eyes. + </p> + <p> + Buck smiled: “Yu ain't mad, are yu?” He asked. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong relaxed: “No, but blame near it.” + </p> + <p> + Red and the others grabbed him from the rear, and when he had been + “buffaloed” into good humor he threw them from him, laughed and waved his + hand toward the bar: + </p> + <p> + “Come up, yu sons-of-guns. Yore a cussed nuisance sometimes, but yore a + bully gang all th' same.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV. Mr. Ewalt Draws Cards + </h2> + <p> + Tex Ewalt, cow-puncher, prospector, sometimes a rustler, but always a + dude, rode from El Paso in deep disgust at his steady losses at faro and + monte. The pecuniary side of these caused him no worry, for he was flush. + This pleasing opulence was due to his business ability, for he had + recently sold a claim for several thousand dollars. The first operation + was simple, being known in Western phraseology as “jumping”; and the + second, somewhat more complicated, was known as “salting.” + </p> + <p> + The first of the money spent went for a complete new outfit, and he had + parted with just three hundred and seventy dollars to feed his vanity. He + desired something contrasty and he procured it. His sombrero, of gray felt + a quarter of an inch thick, flaunted a band of black leather, on which was + conspicuously displayed a solid silver buckle. His neck was protected by a + crimson kerchief of the finest, heaviest silk. His shirt, in pattern the + same as those commonly worn in the cow country, was of buckskin, soft as a + baby's cheek and impervious to water, and the Angora goatskin chaps, with + the long silken hair worn outside, were as white as snow. Around his waist + ran loosely a broad, black leather belt supporting a heavy black holster, + in which lay its walnut-handled burden, a .44 caliber six-shooter; and + thirty center-fire cartridges peeked from their loops, fifteen on a side. + His boots, the soles thin and narrow and the heels high, were black and of + the finest leather. Huge spurs, having two-inch rowels, were held in place + by buckskin straps, on which, also, were silver buckles. Protecting his + hands were heavy buckskin gloves, also waterproof, having wide, black + gauntlets. + </p> + <p> + Each dainty hock of his dainty eight-hundred-pound buckskin pony was + black, and a black star graced its forehead. Well groomed, with flowing + mane and tail, and with the brand on its flank being almost imperceptible, + the animal was far different in appearance from most of the cow-ponies. + Vicious and high-spirited, it cavorted just enough to show its lines to + the best advantage. + </p> + <p> + The saddle, a famous Cheyenne and forty pounds in weight, was black, + richly embossed, and decorated with bits of beaten silver which flashed + back the sunlight. At the pommel hung a thirty-foot coil of braided + horsehair rope, and at the rear was a Sharp's .50-caliber, breech-loading + rifle, its owner having small use for any other make. The color of the + bridle was the same as the saddle and it supported a heavy U bit which was + capable of a leverage sufficient to break the animal's jaw. + </p> + <p> + Tex was proud of his outfit, but his face wore a frown—not there + only on acount of his losses, but also by reason of his mission, for under + all his finery beat a heart as black as any in the cow country. For months + he had smothered hot hatred and he was now on his way to ease himself of + it. + </p> + <p> + He and Slim Travennes had once exchanged shots with Hopalong in Santa Fe, + and the month which he had spent in bed was not pleasing, and from that + encounter had sprung the hatred. That he had been in the wrong made no + difference with him. Some months later he had learned of the death of + Slim, and it was due to the same man. That Slim had again been in the + wrong also made no difference, for he realized the fact and nothing else. + </p> + <p> + Lately he had been told of the death of Slippery Trendley and Deacon + Rankin, and he accepted their passing as a personal affront. That they had + been caught red-handed in cattle stealing of huge proportions and received + only what was customary under the conditions formed no excuse in his mind + for their passing. He was now on his way to attend the carnival at Muddy + Wells, knowing that his enemy would be sure to be there. + </p> + <p> + While passing through Las Cruces he met Porous Johnson and Silent Somes, + who were thirsty and who proclaimed that fact, whereupon he relieved them + of their torment and, looking forward to more treatment of a similar + nature, they gladly accompanied him without asking why or where. + </p> + <p> + As they left the town in their rear Tex turned in his saddle and surveyed + them with a cynical smile. + </p> + <p> + “Have yu heard anything of Trendley?” He asked. + </p> + <p> + They shook their heads. + </p> + <p> + “Him an' th' Deacon was killed over in th' Panhandle,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “What!” chorused the pair. + </p> + <p> + “Jack Dorman, Shorty Danvers, Charley Teale, Stiffhat Bailey, Billy + Jackson, Terry Nolan an' Sailor Carson was lynched.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” they shouted. + </p> + <p> + “Fish O'Brien, Pinochle Schmidt, Tom Wilkins, Apache Gordon, Charley of + th' Bar Y, Penobscot Hughes an' about twenty others died fightin'.” + </p> + <p> + Porous looked his astonishment: “Cavalry?” + </p> + <p> + “An' I'm going after th' dogs who did it,” he continued, ignoring the + question. “Are yu with me?—Yu used to pal with some of them, didn't + yu?” + </p> + <p> + “We did, an' we're shore with yu!” cried Porous. + </p> + <p> + “Yore right,” endorsed Silent. “But who done it?” + </p> + <p> + “That gang what's punchin' for th' Bar-20-Hopalong Cassidy is th' one I'm + pining for. Yu fellers can take care of Peters an' Connors.” + </p> + <p> + The two stiffened and exchanged glances of uncertainty and apprehension. + The outfit of the Bar-20 was too well known to cause exuberant joy to + spring from the idea of war with it, and well in the center of all the + tales concerning it were the persons Tex had named. To deliberately set + forth with the avowed intention of planting these was not at all + calculated to induce sweet dreams. + </p> + <p> + Tex sneered his contempt. + </p> + <p> + “Yore shore uneasy: yu ain't a-scared, are yu?” He drawled. Porous relaxed + and made a show of subduing his horse: “I reckon I ain't scared plumb to + death. Yu can deal me a hand,” he asserted. + </p> + <p> + “I'll draw cards too,” hastily announced Silent, buttoning his vest. “Tell + us about that jamboree over in th' Panhandle.” + </p> + <p> + Tex repeated the story as he had heard it from a bibulous member of the + Barred Horseshoe, and then added a little of torture as a sauce to whet + their appetites for revenge. + </p> + <p> + “How did Trendley cash in?” Asked Porous. + </p> + <p> + “Nobody knows except that bum from th' Tin-Cup. I'll get him later. I'd a + got Cassidy up in Santa Fe, too, if it wasn't for th' sun in my eyes. Me + an' Slim loosened up on him in th' Plaza, but we couldn't see nothing with + him a-standin' against th' sun.” + </p> + <p> + “Where's Slim now?” Asked Porous. “I ain't seen him for some time.” + </p> + <p> + “Slim's with Trendley,” replied Tex. “Cassidy handed him over to St. Pete + at Cactus Springs. Him an' Connors sicked their outfit on him an' his + vigilantes, bein helped some by th' O-Bar-O. They wiped th' town plumb off + th' earth, an' now I'm going to do some wipin' of my own account. I'll + prune that gang of some of its blossoms afore long. It's cost me seventeen + friends so far, an' I'm going to stop th' leak, or make another.” + </p> + <p> + They entered Muddy Wells at sunrise on the day of the carnival and, eating + a hearty breakfast, sallied forth to do their share toward making the + festivities a success. + </p> + <p> + The first step considered necessary for the acquirement of case and polish + was begun at the nearest bar, and Tex, being the host, was so liberal that + his friends had reached a most auspicious state when they followed him to + Tom Lee's. + </p> + <p> + Tex was too wise to lose his head through drink and had taken only enough + to make him careless of consequences. Porous was determined to sing “Annie + Laurie,” although he hung on the last word of the first line until out of + breath and then began anew. Silent, not wishing to be outdone, bawled at + the top of his lungs a medley of music-hall words to the air of a hymn. + </p> + <p> + Tex, walking as awkwardly as any cow-puncher, approached Tom Lee's, his + two friends trailing erratically, arm in arm, in his rear. Swinging his + arm he struck the door a resounding blow and entered, hand on gun, as it + crashed back. Porous and Silent stood in the doorway and quarreled as to + what each should drink and, compromising, lurched in and seated themselves + on a table and resumed their vocal perpetrations. + </p> + <p> + Tex swaggered over to the bar and tossed a quarter upon it: “Corn juice,” + he laconically exclaimed. Tossing off the liquor and glancing at his + howling friends, he shrugged his shoulders and strode out by the rear + door, slamming it after him. Porous and Silent, recounting friends who had + “cashed in” fell to weeping and they were thus occupied when Hopalong and + Buck entered, closely followed by the rest of the outfit. + </p> + <p> + Buck walked to the bar and was followed by Hopalong, who declined his + foreman's offer to treat. Tom Lee set a bottle at Buck's elbow and placed + his hands against the bar. + </p> + <p> + “Friend of yourn just hit the back trail,” he remarked to Hopalong. “He + was primed some for trouble, too,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “Yaas?” Drawled Hopalong with little interest. + </p> + <p> + The proprietor restacked the few glasses and wiped off the bar. “Them's + his pardners,” he said, indicating the pair on the table. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong turned his head and gravely scrutinized them. Porous was + bemoaning the death of Slim Travennes and Hopalong frowned. + </p> + <p> + “Don't reckon he's no relation of mine,” he grunted. + </p> + <p> + “Well, he ain't yore sister,” replied Tom Lee, grinning. + </p> + <p> + “What's his brand?” Asked the puncher. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon he's a maverick, 'though yu put yore brand on him up to Santa Fe + a couple of years back. Since he's throwed back on yore range I reckon + he's yourn if yu wants him.” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon Tex is some sore,” remarked Hopalong, rolling a cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon he is,” replied the proprietor, tossing Buck's quarter in the + cash box. “But, say, you should oughter see his rig.” + </p> + <p> + “Yaas?” + </p> + <p> + “He's shore a cow-punch dude—my, but he's some sumptious an' + highfalutin'. An' bad? Why, he reckons th' Lord never brewed a more + high-toned brand of cussedness than his'n. He shore reckons he's the + baddest man that ever simmered.” + </p> + <p> + “How'd he look as th' leadin' man in a necktie festival?” Blazed Johnny + from across the room, feeling called upon to help the conversation. + </p> + <p> + “He'd be a howlin' success, son,” replied Skinny Thompson, “judgin' by his + friends what we elevated over in th' Panhandle.” + </p> + <p> + Lanky Smith leaned forward with his elbow on the table, resting his chin + in the palm of his hand: “Is Ewalt still a-layin' for yu, Hopalong?” He + asked. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong turned wearily and tossed his half-consumed cigarette into the + box of sand which did duty as a cuspidore: “I reckon so; an' he shore can + hatch whenever he gets good an ready, too.” + </p> + <p> + “He's probably a-broodin' over past grievances,” offered Johnny, as he + suddenly pushed Lanky's elbow from the table, nearly causing a + catastrophe. + </p> + <p> + “Yu'll be broodin' over present grievances if yu don't look out, yu + everlastin' nuisance yu,” growled Lanky, planting his elbow in its former + position with an emphasis which conveyed a warning. + </p> + <p> + “These bantams ruflle my feathers,” remarked Red. “They go around braggin' + about th' egg they're goin' to lay an' do enough cacklin' to furnish music + for a dozen. Then when th' affair comes off yu'll generally find they's + been settin' on a door-knob.” + </p> + <p> + “Did yu ever see a hen leave th' walks of peace an' bugs an' rustle + hell-bent across th' trail plumb in front of a cayuse?” Asked Buck. + “They'll leave off rustlin' grub an' become candidates for th' graveyard + just for cussedness. Well, a whole lot of men are th' same way. How many + times have I seen them swagger into a gin shop an' try to run things + sudden an' hard, an' that with half a dozen better men in th' same room? + There's shore a-plenty of trouble a-comin' to every man without rustlin' + around for more. + </p> + <p> + “'Member that time yu an' Frenchy tried to run th' little town of Frozen + Nose, up in Montana?” Asked Johnny, winking at the rest. + </p> + <p> + “An' we did run it, for a while,” responded Buck. “But that only goes to + show that most young men are chumps—we were just about yore age + then.” + </p> + <p> + Red laughed at the youngster's discomfiture: “That little squib of yourn + shore touched her off—I reckon we irrigates on yu this time, don't + we?” + </p> + <p> + “Th' more th' Kid talks, th' more money he needs,” remarked Lanky, placing + his glass on the bar. “He had to blow me an' Skinny twice last night.” + </p> + <p> + “I got two more after yu left,” added Skinny “He shore oughter practice + keeping still.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +At one o'clock sharp Hopalong walked up to the clerk of the hotel and +grinned. The clerk looked up: + + “Hullo, Cassidy?” He exclaimed, genially. “What was all that fuss +about this mornin' when I was away? I haven't seen you for a long time, +have I? How are you?” + </pre> + <p> + “That fuss was a fool joke of Buck's, an' I wish they had been throwed + out,” Hopalong replied. “What I want to know is if Miss Deane is in her + room. Yu see, I have a date with her.” + </p> + <p> + The clerk grinned: + </p> + <p> + “So she's roped you, too, has she?” + </p> + <p> + “What do yu mean?” Asked Hopalong in surprise. “Well, well,” laughed the + clerk. “You punchers are easy. Any third-rate actress that looks good to + eat can rope you fellows, all right. Now look here, Laura, you keep shy of + her corral, or you'll be broke so quick you won't believe you ever had a + cent: that's straight. This is the third year that she's been here and I + know what I'm talking about. How did you come to meet her?” + </p> + <p> + Hopalong explained the meeting and his friend laughed again: + </p> + <p> + “Why, she knows this country like a book. She can't get lost anywhere + around here. But she's blame clever at catching punchers.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I reckon I'd better take her, go broke or not,” replied Hopalong. + “Is she in her room?” + </p> + <p> + “She is, but she is not alone,” responded the clerk. “There is a dude + puncher up there with her and she left word here that she was indisposed, + which means that you are outlawed.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is he?” Asked Hopalong, having his suspicions. “That friend of yours: + Ewalt. He sported a wad this morning when she passed him, and she let him + make her acquaintance. He's another easy mark. He'll be busted wide open + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon I'll see Tex,” suggested Hopalong, starting for the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Come back, you chump!” cried the clerk. “I don't want any shooting here. + What do you care about it? Let her have him, for it's an easy way out of + it for you. Let him think he's cut you out, for he'll spend all the more + freely. Get your crowd and enlighten them—it'll be better than a + circus. This may sound like a steer, but it's straight.” + </p> + <p> + Hopalong thought for a minute and then leaned on the cigar case: + </p> + <p> + “I reckon I'll take about a dozen of yore very best cigars, Charley. Got + any real high-toned brands?” + </p> + <p> + “Cortez panatella—two for a simoleon,” Chancy replied. “But, seein' + that it's you, I'll throw off a dollar on a dozen. They're a fool notion + of the old man, for we can't sell one in a month.” + </p> + <p> + Hopalong dug up a handful and threw one on the counter, lighting another: + “Yu light a Cortez panatella with me,” he said, pocketing the remainder. + “That's five simoleons she didn't get. So long.” + </p> + <p> + He journeyed to Tom Lee's and found his outfit making merry. Passing + around his cigars he leaned against the bar and delighted in the first + really good smoke he had since he came home from Kansas City. + </p> + <p> + Johnny Nelson blew a cloud of smoke at the ceiling and paused with a + pleased expression on his face: + </p> + <p> + “This is a lalapoloosa of a cigar,” he cried. “Where'd yu get it, an' how + many's left?” + </p> + <p> + “I got it from Charley, an' there's more than yu can buy at fifty a shot.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll just take a few for luck,” Johnny responded, running out into + the street. Returning in five minutes with both hands full of cigars he + passed them around and grinned: “They're birds, all right!” + </p> + <p> + Hopalong smiled, turned to Buck and related his conversation with Chancy. + “What do yu think of that?” He asked as he finished. + </p> + <p> + “I think Charley oughter be yore guardian,” replied the foreman. + </p> + <p> + “He was,” replied Hopalong. + </p> + <p> + “If we sees Tex we'll all grin hard,” laughed Red, making for the door. + “Come on to th' contests—Lanky's gone already.” + </p> + <p> + Muddy Wells streamed to the carnival grounds and relieved itself of its + enthusiasm and money at the booths on the way. Cow-punchers rubbed elbows + with Indians and Mexicans, and the few tourists that were present were + delighted with the picturesque scene. The town was full of fakirs and + before one of them stood a group of cow-punchers, apparently drinking in + the words of a barker. + </p> + <p> + “Right this way, gents, and see the woman who don't eat. Lived for two + years without food, gents. Right this way, gents. Only a quarter of a + dollar. Get your tickets, gents, and see—” + </p> + <p> + Red pushed forward: + </p> + <p> + “What did yu say, pard?” He asked. “I'm a little off in my near ear. + What's that about eatin' a woman for two years?” + </p> + <p> + “The greatest wonder of the age, gents. The wom—” + </p> + <p> + “Any discount for th' gang?” Asked Buck, gawking. + </p> + <p> + “Why don't yu quit smokin' an' buy th' lady a meal?” Asked Johnny from the + center of the group. + </p> + <p> + “Th' cane yu ring th' cane yu get!” came from the other side of the street + and Hopalong purchased rings for the outfit. Twenty-four rings got one + cane, and it was divided between them as they wended their way toward the + grounds. + </p> + <p> + “That makes six wheels she didn't get,” murmured Hopalong. As they passed + the snake charmer's booth they saw Tex and his companion ahead of them in + the crowd, and they grinned broadly. “I like th' front row in th' + balcony,” remarked Johnny, who had been to Kansas City. “Don't cry in th' + second act—it ain't real,” laughed Red. “We'll hang John Brown on a + sour appletree—in th' Panhandle,” sang Skinny as they passed them. + </p> + <p> + Arriving at the grounds they hunted up the registration committee and + entered in the contests. As Hopalong signed for the revolver competition + he was rudely pushed aside and Tex wrote his name under that of his enemy. + Hopalong was about to show quick resentment for the insult, but thought of + what Charley had said, and he grinned sympathetically. The seats were + filling rapidly, and the outfit went along the ground looking for friends. + A bugle sounded and a hush swept over the crowd as the announcement was + made for the first event. + </p> + <p> + “Broncho-busting-Red Devil, never ridden: Frenchy McAllister, Tin-Cup, + Montana; Meteor, killed his man: Skinny Thompson, Bar-20, Texas; Vixen, + never ridden: Lefty Allen, O-Bar-O, Texas.” + </p> + <p> + All eyes were focused on the plain where the horse was being led out for + the first trial. After the usual preliminaries had been gone through + Frenchy walked over to it, vaulted in the saddle and the bandage was torn + from the animal's eyes. For ten minutes the onlookers were held spellbound + by the fight before them, and then the horse kicked and galloped away and + Frenchy was picked up and carried from the field. + </p> + <p> + “Too bad!” cried Buck, running from the outfit. + </p> + <p> + “Did yu see it?” asked Johnny excitedly, “Th' cinch busted.” Another horse + was led out and Skinny Thompson vaulted to the saddle, and after a fight + of half an hour rode the animal from the enclosure to the clamorous shouts + of his friends. Lefty Allen also rode his mount from the same gate, but + took ten minutes more in which to do it. + </p> + <p> + The announcer conferred with the timekeepers and then stepped forward: + “First, Skinny Thompson, Bar-20, thirty minutes and ten seconds; second, + Lefty Allen, O-Bar-O, forty minutes and seven seconds.” + </p> + <p> + Skinny returned to his friends shamefacedly and did not look as if he had + just won a championship. They made way for him, and Johnny, who could not + restrain his enthusiasm pounded him on the back and cried: “Yu old + son-of-a-gun!” + </p> + <p> + The announcer again came forward and gave out the competitors for the next + contest, steer-roping and tying. Lanky Smith arose and, coiling his rope + carefully, disappeared into the crowd. The fun was not so great in this, + but when he returned to his outfit with the phenomenal time of six minutes + and eight seconds for his string of ten steers, with twenty-two seconds + for one of them, they gave him vociferous greeting. Three of his steers + had gotten up after he had leaped from his saddle to tie them, but his + horse had taken care of that. His nearest rival was one minute over him + and Lanky retained the championship. + </p> + <p> + Red Connors shot with such accuracy in the rifle contest as to run his + points twenty per cent higher than Waffles, of the O-Bar-O, and won the + new rifle. + </p> + <p> + The main interest centered in the revolver contest, for it was known that + the present champion was to defend his title against an enemy and fears + were expressed in the crowd that there would be an “accident.” Buck Peters + and Red stood just behind the firing line with their hands on hips, and + Tex, seeing the precautions, smiled grimly as he advanced to the line. + </p> + <p> + Six bottles, with their necks an inch above a board, stood twenty paces + from him, and he broke them all in as many shots, taking twelve seconds in + which to do it. Hopalong followed him and tied the score. Three tin balls + rolling erratically in a blanket supported by two men were sent flying + into the air in four shots, Tex taking six seconds. His competitor sent + them from the blanket in three shots and in the same time. In slow + shooting from sights Tex passed his rival in points and stood to win. + There was but one more event to be contested and in it Hopalong found his + joy. + </p> + <p> + Shooting from the hip when the draw is timed is not the sport of even good + shots, and when Tex made sixty points out of a possible hundred, he felt + that he had shot well. When Hopalong went to the line his friends knew + that they would now see shooting such as would be almost unbelievable, + that the best draw-and-shoot marksman in their State was the man who + limped slightly as he advanced and who chewed reflectively on his + fifty-cent cigar. He wore two guns and he stepped with confidence before + the marshal of the town, who was also judge of the contest. + </p> + <p> + The iron ball which lay on the ground was small enough for the use of a + rifle and could hardly be seen from the rear seats of the amphitheater. + There was a word spoken by the timekeeper, and a gloved hand flashed down + and up, and the ball danced and spun and leaped and rolled as shot after + shot followed it with a precision and speed which brought the audience to + a heavy silence. Taking the gun which Buck tossed to him and throwing it + into the empty holster, he awaited the signal, and then smoke poured from + his hips and the ball jumped continuously. Both guns emptied in the + two-hand shooting, he wheeled and jerked loose the guns which the marshal + wore, spinning around without a pause, the target hardly ceasing in its + rolling. Under his arms he shot, backward and between his legs; leaping + from side to side, ducking and dodging, following the ball wherever it + went. Reloading the weapons quickly, he stepped forward and followed the + ball until once more his guns were empty. Then he turned and walked back + to the side of the marshal, smiling a little. His friends, and there were + many in the crowd, torn from their affected nonchalance by shooting the + like of which they had not attributed even to him, roared and shouted and + danced in a frenzy of delight. + </p> + <p> + Red also threw his guns to Hopalong, who caught them in the air and + turning, faced Tex, who stood white of face and completely lost in the + forgetfulness of admiration and amazement. The guns jerked again and a + button flew from the buckskin shirt of his enemy; another tore a flower + from his breast and another drove it into the ground at his feet as others + stirred his hair and cut the buckle off his pretty sombrero. Tex, dazed, + but wise enough to stand quiet, felt his belt tear loose and drop to his + feet, felt a spur rip from its strap and saw his cigarette leap from his + lips. Throwing the guns to Red, Hopalong laughed and abruptly turned and + was lost in the crowd. + </p> + <p> + For several seconds there was silence, but when the dazed minds realized + what their eyes had seen, there arose a roar which shook the houses in the + town. Roar after roar thundered forth and was sent crashing back again by + the distant walls, sweeping down on the discomfited dude and causing him + to slink into the crowd to find a place less conspicuous. He was white yet + and keen fear gripped his heart as he realized that he had come to the + carnival with the expressed purpose of killing his enemy in fair combat. + The whole town knew it, for he had taken pains to spread the news. + </p> + <p> + The woman he had been with knew it from words which she had overheard + while on her way to the grounds with him. His friends knew it and would + laugh him into forgetfulness as the fool who boasted. Now he understood + why he had lost so many friends: they had attempted what he had sworn to + attempt. Look where he would he could see only a smoke-wrapped demon who + moved and shot with a speed incredible. There was reason why Slim had + died. There was reason why Porous and Silent had paled when they learned + of their mission. + </p> + <p> + He hated his conspicuous clothes and his pretty broncho, and the woman who + had gotten him to squander his money, and who was doubtless convulsed with + laughter at his expense. He worked himself into a passion which knew no + fear and he ran for the streets of the town, there to make good his boast + or to die. When he found his enemy he felt himself grasped with a grip of + steel and Buck Peters swung him around and grinned maliciously in his + face: + </p> + <p> + “You plaything!” hoarsely whispered the foreman. “Why don't yu get away + while yu can? Why do yu want to throw yoreself against certain death? I + don't want my pleasure marred by a murder, an' that is what it will be if + yu makes a gun-play at Hopalong. He'll shoot yu as he did yore buttons. + Take yore pretty clothes an' yore pretty cayuse an' go where this is not + known, an' if ever again yu feels like killing Hopalong, get drunk an' + forget it.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br />< + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Hopalong Cassidy's Rustler Round-Up, by +Clarence Edward Mulford + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOPALONG CASSIDY *** + +***** This file should be named 2546-h.htm or 2546-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/4/2546/ + +Produced by Andrew Heath, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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