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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Bar-20 Days, by Clarence E. Mulford
+(#2 in our series by Clarence E. Mulford)
+
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+**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**
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+**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**
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+*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
+
+
+Title: Bar-20 Days
+
+Author: Clarence E. Mulford
+
+Release Date: January, 2004  [EBook #4922]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on March 31, 2002]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, BAR-20 DAYS ***
+
+
+
+
+Etext prepared by Dagny, dagnypg@yahoo.com
+              and John Bickers, jbickers@ihug.co.nz
+
+
+
+                             BAR-20 DAYS
+
+                                  BY
+
+                         CLARENCE E. MULFORD
+
+
+
+                 AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED TO "M. D."
+
+
+
+
+
+                             BAR-20 DAYS
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER I
+
+                          ON A STRANGE RANGE
+
+Two tired but happy punchers rode into the coast town and dismounted
+in front of the best hotel. Putting up their horses as quickly as
+possible they made arrangements for sleeping quarters and then
+hastened out to attend to business. Buck had been kind to delegate
+this mission to them and they would feel free to enjoy what pleasures
+the town might afford. While at that time the city was not what it is
+now, nevertheless it was capable of satisfying what demands might be
+made upon it by two very active and zealous cow-punchers. Their first
+experience began as they left the hotel.
+
+"Hey, you cow-wrastlers!" said a not unpleasant voice, and they turned
+suspiciously as it continued: "You've shore got to hang up them guns
+with the hotel clerk while you cavorts around on this range. This is
+/fence/ country."
+
+They regarded the speaker's smiling face and twinkling eyes and
+laughed. "Well, yo're the foreman if you owns that badge," grinned
+Hopalong, cheerfully. "We don't need no guns, nohow, in this town, we
+don't. Plumb forgot we was toting them. But mebby you can tell us
+where lawyer Jeremiah T. Jones grazes in daylight?"
+
+"Right over yonder, second floor," replied the marshal. "An' come to
+think of it, mebby you better leave most of yore cash with the guns--
+somebody'll take it away from you if you don't. It'd be an awful
+temptation, an' flesh is weak."
+
+"Huh!" laughed Johnny, moving back into the hotel to leave his gun,
+closely followed by Hopalong. "Anybody that can turn that little trick
+on me an' Hoppy will shore earn every red cent; why, we've been to
+Kansas City!"
+
+As they emerged again Johnny slapped his pocket, from which sounded a
+musical jingling. "If them weak people try anything on us, we may come
+between them and /their/ money!" he boasted.
+
+"From the bottom of my heart I pity you," called the marshal, watching
+them depart, a broad smile illuminating his face. "In about twenty-
+four hours they'll put up a holler for me to go git it back for 'em,"
+he muttered. "An' I almost believe I'll do it, too. I ain't never seen
+none of that breed what ever left a town without empty pockets an'
+aching heads--an' the smarter they think they are the easier they
+fall." A fleeting expression of discontent clouded the smile, for the
+lure of the open range is hard to resist when once a man has ridden
+free under its sky and watched its stars. "An' I wish I was one of 'em
+again," he muttered, sauntering on.
+
+Jeremiah T. Jones, Esq., was busy when his door opened, but he leaned
+back in his chair and smiled pleasantly at their bow-legged entry,
+waving them towards two chairs. Hopalong hung his sombrero on a letter
+press and tipped his chair back against the wall; Johnny hung grimly
+to his hat, sat stiffly upright until he noticed his companion's pose,
+and then, deciding that everything was all right, and that Hopalong
+was better up in etiquette than himself, pitched his sombrero
+dexterously over the water pitcher and also leaned against the wall.
+Nobody could lose him when it came to doing the right thing.
+
+"Well, gentlemen, you look tired and thirsty. This is considered good
+for all human ailments of whatsoever nature, degree, or wheresoever
+located, in part or entirety, /ab initio/," Mr. Jones remarked,
+filling glasses. There was no argument and when the glasses were
+empty, he continued: "Now what can I do for you? From the Bar-20? Ah,
+yes; I was expecting you. We'll get right at it," and they did. Half
+an hour later they emerged on the street, free to take in the town, or
+to have the town take them in,--which was usually the case.
+
+"What was that he said for us to keep away from?" asked Johnny with
+keen interest.
+
+"Sh! Not so loud," chuckled Hopalong, winking prodigiously.
+
+Johnny pulled tentatively at his upper lip but before he could reply
+his companion had accosted a stranger.
+
+"Friend, we're pilgrims in a strange land, an' we don’t know the
+trails. Can you tell us where the docks are?"
+
+"Certainly; glad to. You'll find them at the end of this street," and
+he smilingly waved them towards the section of the town which Jeremiah
+T. Jones had specifically and earnestly warned them to avoid.
+
+"Wonder if you're as thirsty as me?" solicitously inquired Hopalong of
+his companion.
+
+"I was just wondering the same," replied Johnny. "Say," he confided in
+a lower voice, "blamed if I don't feel sort of lost without that Colt.
+Every time I lifts my right laig she goes too high--don't feel
+natural, nohow."
+
+"Same here; I'm allus feeling to see if I lost it," Hopalong
+responded. "There ain't no rubbing, no weight, nor nothing."
+
+"Wish I had something to put in its place, blamed if I don't."
+
+"Why, now yo're talking--mebby we can buy something," grinned
+Hopalong, happily. "Here's a hardware store--come on in."
+
+The clerk looked up and laid aside his novel. "Good-morning,
+gentlemen; what can I do for you? We've just got in some fine new
+rifles," he suggested.
+
+The customers exchanged looks and it was Hopalong who first found his
+voice. "Nope, don't want no rifles," he replied, glancing around. "To
+tell the truth, I don't know just what we do want, but we want
+something, all right--got to have it. It's a funny thing, come to
+think of it; I can't never pass a hardware store without going in an'
+buying something. I've been told my father was the same way, so I must
+inherit it. It's the same with my pardner, here, only he gets his
+weakness from his whole family, and it's different from mine. He can't
+pass a saloon without going in an' buying something."
+
+"Yo're a cheerful liar, an' you know it," retorted Johnny. "You know
+the reason why I goes in saloons so much--you'd never leave 'em if I
+didn't drag you out. He inherits that weakness from his grandfather,
+twice removed," he confided to the astonished clerk, whose expression
+didn't know what to express.
+
+"Let's see: a saw?" soliloquized Hopalong. "Nope; got lots of 'em, an'
+they're all genuine Colts," he mused thoughtfully. "Axe? Nails?
+Augurs? Corkscrews? Can we use a corkscrew, Johnny? Ah, thought I'd
+wake you up. Now, what was it Cookie said for us to bring him? Bacon?
+Got any bacon? Too bad--oh, don't apologize; it's all right. Cold
+chisels--that's the thing if you ain't got no bacon. Let me see a
+three-pound cold chisel about as big as that,"--extending a huge and
+crooked forefinger,--"an' with a big bulge at one end. Straight in the
+middle, circling off into a three-cornered wavy edge on the other
+side. What? Look here! You can't tell us nothing about saloons that we
+don't know. I want a three-pound cold chisel, any kind, so it's cold."
+
+Johnny nudged him. "How about them wedges?"
+
+"Twenty-five cents a pound," explained the clerk, groping for his
+bearings.
+
+"They might do," Hopalong muttered, forcing the article mentioned into
+his holster. "Why, they're quite hocus-pocus. You take the brother to
+mine, Johnny."
+
+"Feels good, but I dunno," his companion muttered. "Little wide at the
+sharp end. Hey, got any loose shot?" he suddenly asked, whereat
+Hopalong beamed and the clerk gasped. It didn't seem to matter whether
+they bought bacon, cold chisels, wedges, or shot; yet they looked
+sober.
+
+"Yes, sir; what size?"
+
+"Three pounds of shot, I said!" Johnny rumbled in his throat. "Never
+mind what size."
+
+"We never care about size when we buy shot," Hopalong smiled. "But,
+Johnny, wouldn't them little screws be better?" he asked, pointing
+eagerly.
+
+"Mebby; reckon we better get 'em mixed--half of each," Johnny gravely
+replied. "Anyhow, there ain't much difference."
+
+The clerk had been behind that counter for four years, and executing
+and filling orders had become a habit with him; else he would have
+given them six pounds of cold chisels and corkscrews, mixed. His mouth
+was still open when he weighed out the screws.
+
+"Mix 'em! Mix 'em!" roared Hopalong, and the stunned clerk complied,
+and charged them for the whole purchase at the rate set down for
+screws.
+
+Hopalong started to pour his purchase into the holster which, being
+open at the bottom, gayly passed the first instalment through to the
+floor. He stopped and looked appealingly at Johnny, and Johnny, in
+pain from holding back screams of laughter, looked at him indignantly.
+Then a guileless smile crept over Hopalong's face and he stopped the
+opening with a wad of wrapping paper and disposed of the shot and
+screws, Johnny following his laudable example. After haggling a moment
+over the bill they paid it and walked out, to the apparent joy of the
+clerk.
+
+"Don't laugh, Kid; you'll spoil it all," warned Hopalong, as he noted
+signs of distress on his companion's face. "Now, then; what was it we
+said about thirst? Come on; I see one already."
+
+Having entered the saloon and ordered, Hopalong beamed upon the
+bartender and shoved his glass back again. "One more, kind stranger;
+it's good stuff."
+
+"Yes, feels like a shore-enough gun," remarked Johnny, combining two
+thoughts in one expression, which is brevity.
+
+The bartender looked at him quickly and then stood quite still and
+listened, a puzzled expression on his face.
+
+/Tic--tickety-tick--tic-tic/, came strange sounds from the other side
+of the bar. Hopalong was intently studying a chromo on the wall and
+Johnny gazed vacantly out of the window.
+
+"What's that? What in the deuce is that?" quickly demanded the man
+with the apron, swiftly reaching for his bung-starter.
+
+/Tickety-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic/, the noise went on, and Hopalong, slowly
+rolling his eyes, looked at the floor. A screw rebounded and struck
+his foot, while shot were rolling recklessly.
+
+"Them's making the noise," Johnny explained after critical survey.
+
+"Hang it! I knowed we ought to 'a' got them wedges!" Hopalong
+exclaimed, petulantly, closing the bottom of the sheath. "Why, I won't
+have no gun left soon 'less I holds it in." The complaint was
+plaintive.
+
+"Must be filtering through the stopper," Johnny remarked. "But don't
+it sound nice, especially when it hits that brass cuspidor!"
+
+The bartender, grasping the mallet even more firmly, arose on his toes
+and peered over the bar, not quite sure of what he might discover. He
+had read of infernal machines although he had never seen one. "What
+the blazes!" he exclaimed in almost a whisper; and then his face went
+hard. "You get out of here, quick! You've had too much already! I've
+seen drunks, but-- G'wan! Get out!"
+
+"But we ain't begun yet," Hopalong interposed hastily. "You see--"
+
+"Never mind what I see! I'd hate to see what you'll be seeing before
+long. God help you when you finish!" rather impolitely interrupted the
+bartender. He waved the mallet and made for the end of the counter
+with no hesitancy and lots of purpose in his stride. "G'wan, now! Get
+out!"
+
+"Come on, Johnny; I'd shoot him only we didn't put no powder with the
+shot," Hopalong remarked sadly, leading the way out of the saloon and
+towards the hardware store.
+
+"You better get out!" shouted the man with the mallet, waving the
+weapon defiantly. "An' don't you never come back again, neither," he
+warned.
+
+"Hey, it leaked," Hopalong said pleasantly as he closed the door of
+the hardware store behind him, whereupon the clerk jumped and reached
+for the sawed-off shotgun behind the counter. Sawed-off shotguns are
+great institutions for arguing at short range, almost as effective as
+dynamite in clearing away obstacles.
+
+"Don't you come no nearer!" he cried, white of face. "You git out, or
+I'll let /this/ leak, an' give you /all/ shot, an' more than you can
+carry!"
+
+"Easy! Easy there, pardner; we want them wedges," Hopalong replied,
+somewhat hurriedly. "The others ain't no good; I choked on the very
+first screw. Why, I wouldn't hurt you for the world," Hopalong assured
+him, gazing interestedly down the twin tunnels.
+
+Johnny leaned over a nail keg and loosed the shot and screws into it,
+smiling with childlike simplicity as he listened to the
+tintinnabulation of the metal shower among the nails. "It /does/ drop
+when you let go of it," he observed.
+
+"Didn't I tell you it would? I allus said so," replied Hopalong,
+looking back to the clerk and the shotgun. "Didn't I, stranger?"
+
+The clerk's reply was a guttural rumbling, ninety per cent profanity,
+and Hopalong, nodding wisely, picked up two wedges. "Johnny, here's
+yore gun. If this man will stop talking to hisself and drop that lead-
+sprayer long enough to take our good money, we'll wear em."
+
+He tossed a gold coin on the table, and the clerk, still holding
+tightly to the shotgun, tossed the coin into the cash box and
+cautiously slid the change across the counter. Hopalong picked up the
+money and, emptying his holster into the nail keg, followed his
+companion to the street, in turn followed slowly by the suspicious
+clerk. The door slammed shut behind them, the bolt shot home, and the
+clerk sat down on a box and cogitated.
+
+Hopalong hooked his arm through Johnny's and started down the street.
+"I wonder what that feller thinks about us, anyhow. I'm glad Buck sent
+Red over to El Paso instead of us. Won't he be mad when we tell him
+all the fun we've had?" he asked, grinning broadly.
+
+They were to meet Red at Dent's store on the way back and ride home
+together.
+
+
+
+They were strangely clad for their surroundings, the chaps glaringly
+out of place in the Seaman's Port, and winks were exchanged by the
+regular /habitues/ when the two punchers entered the room and called
+for drinks. They were very tired and a little under the weather, for
+they had made the most of their time and spent almost all of their
+money; but any one counting on robbing them would have found them
+sober enough to look out for themselves. Night had found them ready to
+go to the hotel, but on the way they felt that they must have one more
+bracer, and finish their exploration of Jeremiah T. Jones' tabooed
+section. The town had begun to grow wearisome and they were vastly
+relieved when they realized that the rising sun would see them in the
+saddle and homeward bound, headed for God's country, which was the
+only place for cow-punchers after all.
+
+"Long way from the home port, ain't you, mates?" queried a tar of
+Hopalong. Another seaman went to the bar to hold a short, whispered
+consultation with the bartender, who at first frowned and then finally
+nodded assent.
+
+"Too far from home, if that's what yo're driving at," Hopalong
+replied. "Blast these hard trails--my feet are shore on the prod. Ever
+meet my side pardner? Johnny, here's a friend of mine, a salt-water
+puncher, an' he's welcome to the job, too."
+
+Johnny turned his head ponderously and nodded. "Pleased to meet you,
+stranger. An' what'll you all have?"
+
+"Old Holland, mate," replied the other, joining them.
+
+"All up!" invited Hopalong, waving them forward. "Might as well do
+things right or not at all. Them's my sentiments, which I holds as
+proper. Plain rye, general, if you means me," he replied to the
+bartender's look of inquiry.
+
+He drained the glass and then made a grimace. "Tastes a little off--
+reckon it's my mouth; nothing tastes right in this cussed town. Now,
+up on our--" He stopped and caught at the bar. "Holy smoke! That's
+shore alcohol!"
+
+Johnny was relaxing and vainly trying to command his will power.
+"Something's wrong; what's the matter?" he muttered sleepily.
+
+"Guess you meant beer; you ain't used to drinking whiskey," grinned
+the bartender, derisively, and watching him closely.
+
+"I can--drink as much whiskey as--" and, muttering, Johnny slipped to
+the floor.
+
+"That wasn't whiskey!" cried Hopalong, sleepily. "that liquor was
+/fixed/!" he shouted, sudden anger bracing him. "An' I'm going to fix
+/you/, too!" he added, reaching for his gun, and drawing forth a
+wedge. His sailor friend leaped at him, to go down like a log, and
+Hopalong, seething with rage, wheeled and threw the weapon at the man
+behind the bar, who also went down. The wedge, glancing from his
+skull, swept a row of bottles and glasses from the shelf and,
+caroming, went through the window.
+
+In an instant Hopalong was the vortex of a mass of struggling men and,
+handicapped as he was, fought valiantly, his rage for the time
+neutralizing the effects of the drug. But at last, too sleepy to stand
+or think, he, too, went down.
+
+"By the Lord, that man's a fighter!" enthusiastically remarked the
+leader, gently touching his swollen eye. "George must 'a' put an awful
+dose in that grog."
+
+"Lucky for us he didn't have no gun--the wedge was bad enough,"
+groaned a man on the floor, slowly sitting up. "Whoever swapped him
+that wedge for his gun did us a good turn, all right."
+
+A companion tentatively readjusted his lip. "I don't envy Wilkins his
+job breaking in that man when he gets awake."
+
+"Don't waste no time, mates," came the order. "Up with 'em an' aboard.
+We've done our share; let the mate do his, an' be hanged. Hullo,
+Portsmouth; coming around, eh?" he asked the man who had first felt
+the wedge. "I was scared you was done for that time."
+
+"No more shanghaiing hair pants for me, no more!" thickly replied
+Portsmouth. "Oh, my head, it's bust open!"
+
+"Never mind about the bartender--let him alone; we can't waste no time
+with him now!" commanded the leader sharply. "Get these fellers on
+board before we're caught with 'em. We want our money after that."
+
+"All clear!" came a low call from the lookout at the door, and soon a
+shadowy mass surged across the street and along a wharf. There was a
+short pause as a boat emerged out of the gloom, some whispered orders,
+and then the squeaking of oars grew steadily fainter in the direction
+of a ship which lay indistinct in the darkness.
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER II
+
+                             THE REBOUND
+
+A man moaned and stirred restlessly in a bunk, muttering incoherently.
+A stampeded herd was thundering over him, the grinding hoofs beating
+him slowly to death. He saw one mad steer stop and lower its head to
+gore him and just as the sharp horns touched his skin, he awakened.
+Slowly opening his bloodshot eyes he squinted about him, sick, weak,
+racking with pain where heavy shoes had struck him in the melee, his
+head reverberating with roars which seemed almost to split it open.
+Slowly he regained his full senses and began to make out his
+surroundings. He was in a bunk which moved up and down, from side to
+side, and was never still. There was a small, round window near his
+feet--thank heaven it was open, for he was almost suffocated by the
+foul air and the heat. Where was he? What had happened? Was there a
+salty odor in the air, or was he still dreaming? Painfully raising
+himself on one elbow he looked around and caught sight of a man in the
+bunk across. It was Johnny Nelson! Then, bit by bit, the whole thing
+came to him and he cursed heartily as he reviewed it and reached the
+only possible conclusion. He was at sea! He, Hopalong Cassidy, the
+best fighting unit of a good fighting outfit, shanghaied and at sea!
+Drugged, beaten, and stolen to labor on a ship.
+
+Johnny was muttering and moaning and Hopalong slowly climbed out of
+the narrow bunk, unsteadily crossed the moving floor, and shook him.
+"Reckon he's in a stampede, too!" he growled. "They shore raised h--l
+with us. Oh, what a beating we got! But we'll pass it along with
+trimmings."
+
+Johnny's eyes opened and he looked around in confusion. "Wha',
+Hopalong!"
+
+"Yes; it's me, the prize idiot of a blamed good pair of 'em. How'd you
+feel?"
+
+"Sleepy an' sick. My eyes ache an' my head's splitting. Where's Buck
+an' the rest?"
+
+Hopalong sat down on the edge of the bunk and sore luridly,
+eloquently, beautifully, with a fervor and polish which left nothing
+to be desired in that line, and caused his companion to gaze at him in
+astonishment.
+
+"I had a mighty bad dream, but you must 'a' had one a whole lot worse,
+to listen to you," Johnny remarked. "Gee, you're going some! What's
+the matter with you. You sick, too?"
+
+Thereupon Hopalong unfolded the tale of woe and when Johnny had
+grasped its import and knew that his dream had been a stern reality,
+he straightway loosed his vocabulary and earned a draw. "Well, I'm
+going back again," he finished, with great decision, arising to make
+good his assertion.
+
+"Swim or walk?" asked Hopalong nonchalantly.
+
+"Huh! Oh, Lord!"
+
+"Well, I ain't going to either swim or walk," Hopalong soliloquized.
+"I'm just going to stay right here in this one-by-nothing cellar an'
+spoil the health an' good looks of any pirate that comes down that
+ladder to get me out." He looked around, interested in life once more,
+and his trained eye grasped the strategic worth of their position.
+"Only one at a time, an' down that ladder," he mused, thoughtfully.
+"Why, Johnny, we owns this range as long as we wants to. They can't
+get us out. But, say, if only we had our guns!" he sighed,
+regretfully.
+
+"You're right as far as you go; but you don't go to the eating part.
+We'll starve, an' we ain't got no water. I can drink about a bucketful
+right now," moodily replied his companion.
+
+"Well, yo're right; but mebby we can find food an' water."
+
+"Don't see no signs of none. Hey!" Johnny exclaimed, smiling faintly
+in his misery. "Let's get busy an' burn the cussed thing up! Got any
+matches?"
+
+"First you want to drown yoreself swimming, an' now you want to roast
+the pair of us to death," Hopalong retorted, eyeing the rear wall of
+the room. "Wonder what's on the other side of that partition?"
+
+Johnny looked. "Why, water; an' lots of it, too."
+
+"Naw; the water is on the other sides."
+
+"Then how do I know?--sh! I hear somebody coming on the roof."
+
+"Tumble back in yore bunk--quick!" Hopalong hurriedly whispered. "Be
+asleep--if he comes down here it'll be our deal."
+
+The steps overhead stopped at the companionway and a shadow appeared
+across the small patch of sunlight on the floor of the forecastle.
+"Tumble up here, you blasted loafers!" roared a deep voice.
+
+No reply came from the forecastle--the silence was unbroken.
+
+"If I have to come down there I'll--" the first mate made promises in
+no uncertain tones and in very impolite language. He listened for a
+moment, and having very good ears and hearing nothing, made more
+promises and came down the ladder quickly and nimbly.
+
+"/I'll/ bring you to," he muttered, reaching a brawny hand for
+Hopalong's nose, and missing. But he made contact with his own face,
+which stopped a short-arm blow from the owner of the aforesaid nose, a
+jolt full of enthusiasm and purpose. Beautiful and dazzling flashes of
+fire filled the air and just then something landed behind his ear and
+prolonged the pyrotechnic display. When the skyrockets went up he lost
+interest in the proceedings and dropped to the floor like a bag of
+meal.
+
+Hopalong cut another piece from the rope in his hand and watched his
+companion's busy fingers. "Tie him good, Johnny; he's the only ace
+we've drawn in this game so far, an' we mustn't lose him."
+
+Johnny tied an extra knot for luck and leaned forward, his eyes
+riveted on the bump under the victim's coat. His darting hand brought
+into sight that which pleased him greatly. "Oh, joy! Here, Hoppy; you
+take it."
+
+Hopalong turned the weapon over in his hand, spun the cylinder and
+gloated, the clicking sweet music to his ears. "Plumb full, too! I
+never reckoned I'd ever be so tickled over a snub-nosed gun like this
+--but I feel like singing!"
+
+"An' I feel like dying," grunted Johnny, grabbing at his stomach. "If
+the blamed shack would only stand still!" he groaned, gazing at the
+floor with strong disgust. "I don't reckon I've ever been so blamed
+sick in all my--" the sentence was unfinished, for the open porthole
+caught his eye and he leaped forward to use it for a collar.
+
+Hopalong gazed at him in astonishment and sudden pity took possession
+of him as his pallid companion left the porthole and faced him.
+
+"You ought to have something to eat, Kid--I'm purty hungry myself--
+what the blazes!" he exclaimed, for Johnny's protesting wail was
+finished outside the port. Then a light broke upon him and he wondered
+how soon it would be his turn to pay tribute to Neptune.
+
+"Mr. Wilkins!" shouted a voice from the deck, and Hopalong moved back
+a step. "Mr. Wilkins!" After a short silence the voice soliloquized:
+"Guess he changed his mind about it; I'll get 'em up for him," and
+feet came into view. When halfway down the ladder the second mate
+turned his head and looked blankly down a gun barrel while a quiet but
+angry voice urged him further: "Keep a-coming, keep a-coming!" The
+second mate complained, but complied.
+
+"Stick 'em up higher--now, Johnny, wobble around behind the nice man
+an' take /his/ gun--you shut yore yap! I'm bossing this trick, not
+you. Got it, Kid? There's the rope--that's right. Nobody'd think you
+sick to see you work. Well, that's a good draw; but it's only a pair
+of aces against a full, at that. Wonder who'll be the next. Hope it's
+the foreman."
+
+Johnny, keeping up by sheer grit, pointed to the rear wall. "What
+about that?"
+
+For reply his companion walked over to it, put his shoulder to it and
+pushed. He stepped back and hurled his weight against it, but it was
+firm despite its squeaking protest. Then he examined it foot by foot
+and found a large knot, which he drove in by a blow of the gun.
+Bending, he squinted through the opening for a full minute and then
+reported:
+
+"Purty black in there at this end, but up at the other there's a light
+from a hole in the roof, an' I could see boxes an' things like that. I
+reckon it's the main cellar."
+
+"If we could get out at the other end with that gun you've got we
+could raise blazes for a while," suggested Johnny. "Anyhow, mebby they
+can come at us that way when they find out what we've gone an' done."
+
+"Yo're right," Hopalong replied, looking around. Seeing an iron bar he
+procured it and, pushing it through the knot hole in the partition,
+pulled. The board, splitting and cracking under the attack, finally
+broke from its fastenings with a sharp report, and Hopalong, pulling
+it aside, stepped out of sight of his companion. Johnny was grinning
+at the success of his plan when he was interrupted.
+
+"Ahoy, down there!" yelled a stentorian voice from above. "Mr.
+Wilkins! What the devil are you doing so long?" and after a very short
+wait other feet came into sight. Just then the second mate, having
+managed to slip off the gag, shouted warning:
+
+"Look out, Captain! They've got us and our guns! One of them has--"
+but Johnny's knee thudded into his chest and ended the sentence as a
+bullet sent a splinter flying from under the captain's foot.
+
+"Hang these guns!" Johnny swore, and quickly turned to secure the gag
+in the mouth of the offending second mate. "You make any more yaps
+like that an' I'll wing you for keeps with yore own gun!" he snapped.
+"We're caught in yore trap an' we'll fight to a finish. You'll be the
+first to go under if you gets any smart."
+
+"Ahoy, men!" roared the captain in a towering rage, dancing
+frantically about on the deck and shouting for the crew to join him.
+He filled the air with picturesque profanity and stamped and yelled in
+passion at such rank mutiny.
+
+"Hand grenades! Hand grenades!" he cried. Then he remembered that his
+two mates were also below and would share in the mutineers' fate, and
+his rage increased at his galling helplessness. When he had calmed
+sufficiently to think clearly he realized that it was certain death
+for any one to attempt going down the ladder, and that his must be a
+waiting game. He glanced at his crew, thirteen good men, all armed
+with windlass bars and belaying pins, and gave them orders. Two were
+to watch the hatch and break the first head to appear, while the
+others returned to work. Hunger and thirst would do the rest. And what
+joy would be his when they were forced to surrender!
+
+Hopalong groped his way slowly towards the patch of light, barking his
+shins, stumbling and falling over the barrels and crates and finally,
+losing his footing at a critical moment, tumbled down upon a box
+marked "Cotton." There was a splintering crash and the very faint
+clink of metal. Dazed and bruised, he sat up and felt of himself--and
+found that he had lost his gun in the fall.
+
+"Now, where in blazes did it fly to?" he muttered angrily, peering
+about anxiously. His eyes suddenly opened their widest and he stared
+in surprise at a field gun which covered him; and then he saw parts of
+two more.
+
+"Good Lord! Is this a gunboat?" he cried. "Are we up against
+bluejackets an' Uncle Sam?" He glanced quickly back the way he had
+come when he heard Johnny's shot, but he could see nothing. He figured
+that Johnny had sense enough to call for help if he needed it, and put
+that possibility out of his mind. "Naw, this ain't no gunboat--the
+Government don't steal men; it enlists 'em. But it's a funny pile of
+junk, all the same. Where in blazes is that toy gun? /Well/, I'll be
+hanged!" and he plunged toward the "Cotton" box he had burst in his
+descent, and worked at it frantically.
+
+"Winchesters! Winchesters!" he cried, dragging out two of them.
+"Whoop! Now for the cartridges--there shore must be some to go with
+these guns!" He saw a keg marked "Nails," and managed to open it after
+great labor--and found it full of army Colts. Forcing down the desire
+to turn a handspring, he slipped one of the six-shooters in his empty
+holster and patted it lovingly. "Old friend, I'm shore glad to see
+you, all right. You've been used, but that don't make no difference."
+Searching further, he opened a full box of /machetes/, and soon after
+found cartridges of many kinds and calibres. It took him but a few
+minutes to make his selection and cram his pockets with them. Then he
+filled two Colts and two Winchesters--and executed a short jig to work
+off the dangerous pressure of his exuberance.
+
+"But what an unholy lot of weapons," he soliloquized on his way back
+to Johnny. "An' they're all second-hand. Cannons, too--an'
+/machetes/!" he exclaimed, suddenly understanding. "Jumping
+Jerusalem!--a filibustering expedition bound for Cuba, or one of them
+wildcat republics down south! Oh, ho, my friends; I see where you have
+bit off more'n you can chew." In his haste to impart the joyous news
+to his companion, he barked his shins shamefully.
+
+"'Way down south in the land o' cotton, cinnamon seed an''--whoa,
+blast you!" and Hopalong stuck his head through the opening in the
+partition and grinned. "Heard you shoot, Kid; I reckoned you might
+need me--an' these!" he finished, looking fondly upon the weapons as
+he shoved them into the forecastle.
+
+Johnny groaned and held his stomach, but his eyes lighted up when he
+saw the guns, and he eagerly took one of each kind, a faint smile
+wreathing his lips. "Now we'll show these water snakes what kind of
+men they stole," he threatened.
+
+Up on the deck the choleric captain still stamped and swore, and his
+crew, with well-concealed mirth, went about their various duties as if
+they were accustomed to have shanghaied men act this way. They
+sympathized with the unfortunate pair, realizing how they themselves
+would feel if shanghaied to break broncos.
+
+Hogan, A. B., stated the feelings of his companions very well in his
+remarks to the men who worked alongside: "In me hear-rt I'm dommed
+glad av it, Yensen. I hope they bate the old man at his own game. 'T
+is a shame in these days for honest men to be took in that unlawful
+way. I've heard me father tell of the press gangs on the other side,
+an' 't is small business."
+
+Yensen looked up to reply, chanced to glance aft, and dropped his
+calking iron in his astonishment. "Yumping Yimminy! Luk at dat
+fallar!"
+
+Hogan looked. "The deuce! That's a man after me own heat-rt! Kape yore
+pagan mouth shut! If ye take a hand agin 'em I'll swab up the deck wid
+yez. G'wan wor-rking like a sane man, ye ijit!"
+
+"Ay ent ban fight wit dat fallar! Luk at the gun!"
+
+A man had climbed out of the after hatch and was walking rapidly
+towards them, a rifle in his hands, while at his thigh swung a Colt.
+He watched the two seamen closely and caught sight of Hogan's
+twinkling blue eyes, and a smile quivered about his mouth. Hogan shut
+and opened one eye and went on working.
+
+As soon as Hopalong caught sight of the captain, the rifle went up and
+he announced his presence without loss of time. "Throw up yore hands,
+you pole-cat! I'm running this ranch from now on!"
+
+The captain wheeled with a jerk and his mouth opened, and then clicked
+shut as he started forward, his rage acting galvanically. But he
+stopped quickly enough when he looked down the barrel of the
+Winchester and glared at the cool man behind it.
+
+"What the blank are you doing?" he yelled.
+
+"Well, I ain't kidnapping cow-punchers to steal my boat," replied
+Hopalong. "An' you fellers stand still or I'll drop you cold!" he
+ordered to the assembled and restless crew. "Johnny!" he shouted, and
+his companion popped up through the hatch like a jack-in-the-box.
+"Good boy, Johnny. Tie this coyote foreman like you did the others,"
+he ordered. While Johnny obeyed, Hopalong looked around the circle,
+and his eyes rested on Hogan's face, studying it, and found something
+there which warmed his heart. "Friend, do you know the back trail? Can
+you find that runt of a town we left?"
+
+"Aye, aye."
+
+"Shore, you; who'd you think I was talking to? Can you find the way
+back, the way we came?"
+
+"Shure an' I can that, if I'm made to."
+
+"You'll swing for mutiny if you do, you bilge-wallering pirate!"
+roared the trussed captain. "Take that gun away from him, d'ye hear!"
+he yelled at the crew. "I'm captain of this ship, an' I'll hang every
+last one of you if you don't obey orders! This is mutiny!"
+
+"You won't do no hanging with that load of weapons below!" retorted
+Hopalong. "Uncle Sam is looking for filibusters--this here gun is
+'cotton,'" he said, grinning. He turned to the crew. "But you fellers
+are due to get shot if you sees her through," he added.
+
+"I'm captain of this ship--" began the helpless autocrat.
+
+"You shore look like it, all right," Hopalong replied, smiling. "If
+yo're the captain you order her turned around and headed over the back
+trail, or I'll drop you overboard off yore own ship!" Then fierce
+anger at the thought of the indignities and injuries he and his
+companion had suffered swept over him and prompted a one-minute speech
+which left no doubt as to what he would do if his demand was not
+complied with. Johnny, now free to watch the crew, added a word or two
+of endorsement, and he acted a little as if he rather hoped it would
+not be complied with: he itched for an excuse.
+
+The captain did some quick thinking; the true situation could not be
+disguised, and with a final oath of rage he gave in. "'Bout ship,
+Hogan; nor' by nor'west," he growled, and the seaman started away to
+execute the command, but was quickly stopped by Hopalong.
+
+"Hogan, is that right?" he demanded. "No funny business, or we'll
+clean up the whole bunch, an' blamed quick, too!"
+
+"That's the course, sor. That's the way back to town. I can navigate,
+an' me orders are plain. Ye're Irish, by the way av ye, and 't is back
+to town ye go, sor!" He turned to the crew: "Stand by, me boys." And
+in a short time the course was nor' by nor'west.
+
+The return journey was uneventful and at nightfall the ship lay at
+anchor off the low Texas coast, and a boat loaded with men grounded on
+the sandy beach. Four of them arose and leaped out into the mild surf
+and dragged the boat as high up on the sand as it would go. Then the
+two cow-punchers followed and one of them gave a low-spoken order to
+the Irishman at his side.
+
+"Yes, sor," replied Hogan, and hastened to help the captain out onto
+the sand and to cut the ropes which bound him. "Do ye want the mates,
+too, sor?" he asked, glancing at the trussed men in the boat.
+
+"No; the foreman's enough," Hopalong responded, handing his weapons to
+Johnny and turning to face the captain, who was looking into Johnny's
+gun as he rubbed his arms to restore perfect circulation.
+
+"Now, you flat-faced coyote, yo're going to get the beating of yore
+life, an' I'm going to give it to you!" Hopalong cried, warily
+advancing upon the man whom he held to be responsible for the miseries
+of the past twenty-four hours. "You didn't give me a square deal, but
+I'm man enough to give you one! When you drug an' steal any more cow-
+punchers--" action stopped his words.
+
+It was a great fight. A filibustering sea captain is no more peaceful
+than a wild boar and about as dangerous; and while this one was not at
+his best, neither was Hopalong. The latter luckily had acquired some
+knowledge of the rudiments of the game and had the vigor of youth to
+oppose to the captain's experience and his infuriated but well-timed
+rushes. The seamen, for the honor of their calling and perhaps with a
+mind to the future, cheered on the captain and danced up and down in
+their delight and excitement. They had a lot of respect for the
+prowess of their master, and for the man who could stand up against
+him in a fair and square fist fight. To give assistance to either in a
+fair fight was not to be thought of, and Johnny's gun was sufficient
+after-excuse for non-interference.
+
+The /sop! sop!/ of the punishing blows as they got home and the steady
+circling of Hopalong in avoiding the dangerous attacks, went on minute
+after minute. Slowly the captain's strength was giving out, and he
+resorted to trickery as his last chance. Retreating, he half raised
+his arms and lowered them as if weary, ready as a cat to strike with
+all his weight if the other gave an opening. It ought to have worked--
+it had worked before--but Hopalong was there to win, and without the
+momentary hesitation of the suspicious fighter he followed the retreat
+and his hard hand flashed in over the captain's guard a fraction of a
+second sooner than that surprised gentleman anticipated. The ferocious
+frown gave way to placid peace and the captain reclined at the feet of
+the battered victor, who stood waiting for him to get up and fight.
+The captain lay without a sign of movement and as Hopalong wondered,
+Hogan was the first to speak.
+
+"Fer the love av hiven, let him be! Ye needn't wait--he's done; I know
+by the sound av it!" he exclaimed, stepping forward. "'T was a purty
+blow, an' 't was a gr-rand foight ye put up, sor! A gr-rand foight,
+but any more av that is murder! 'T is an Irishman's game, sor, an' ye
+did yersilf proud. But now let him be--no man, least av all a
+Dootchman, iver tuk more than that an' lived!"
+
+Hopalong looked at him and slowly replied between swollen lips, "Yo're
+right, Hogan; we're square now, I reckon."
+
+"That's right, sor," Hogan replied, and turned to his companions. "Put
+him in the boat; an' mind ye handle him gintly--we'll be sailing under
+him soon. Now, sor, if it's yer pleasure, I'll be after saying good-
+bye to ye, sor; an' to ye, too," he said, shaking hands with both
+punches. "Fer a sick la-ad ye're a wonder, ye are that," he smiled at
+Johnny, "but ye want to kape away from the water fronts. Good-bye to
+ye both, an' a pleasant journey home. The town is tin miles to me
+right, over beyant them hills."
+
+"Good-bye, Hogan," mumbled Hopalong gratefully. "Yo're square all the
+way through; an' if you ever get out of a job or in any kind of
+trouble that I can help you out of, come up to the Bar-20 an' you
+won't have to ask twice. Good luck!" And the two sore and aching
+punchers, wiser in the ways of the world, plodded doggedly towards the
+town, ten miles away.
+
+The next morning found them in the saddle, bound for Dent's hotel and
+store near the San Miguel Canyon. When they arrived at their
+destination and Johnny found there was some hours to wait for Red, his
+restlessness sent him roaming about the country, not so much "seeking
+what he might devour" as hoping something might seek to devour him. He
+was so sore over his recent kidnapping that he longed to find a salve.
+He faithfully promised Hopalong that he would return at noon.
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER III
+
+                     DICK MARTIN STARTS SOMETHING
+
+Dick Martin slowly turned, leaned his back against the bar, and
+languidly regarded a group of Mexicans at the other end of the room.
+Singly, or in combinations of two or more, each was imparting all he
+knew, or thought he knew about the ghost of San Miguel Canyon. Their
+fellow-countryman, new to the locality, seemed properly impressed.
+That it was the ghost of Carlos Martinez, murdered nearly one hundred
+years before at the big bend in the canyon, was conceded by all; but
+there was a dispute as to why it showed itself only on Friday nights,
+and why it was never seen by any but a Mexican. Never had a Gringo
+seen it. The Mexican stranger was appealed to: Did this not prove that
+the murder had been committed by a Mexican? The stranger affected to
+consider the question.
+
+Martin surveyed them with outward impassiveness and inward contempt. A
+realist, a cynic, and an absolute genius with a Colt .45, he was well
+known along the border for his dare-devil exploits and reckless
+courage. The brainiest men in the Secret Service, Lewis, Thomas,
+Sayre, and even old Jim Lane, the local chief, whose fingers at El
+Paso felt every vibration along the Rio Grande, were not as well known
+--except to those who had seen the inside of Government penitentiaries
+--and they were quite satisfied to be so eclipsed. But the Service
+knew of the ghost, as it knew everything pertaining to the border, and
+gave it no serious thought; if it took interest in all the ghosts and
+superstitions peculiar to the Mexican temperament it would have no
+time for serious work. Martin once, in a spirit of savage denial, had
+wasted the better part of several successive Friday nights in the San
+Miguel, but to no avail. When told that the ghost showed itself only
+to Mexicans he had shrugged his shoulders eloquently and laughed, also
+eloquently.
+
+"A Greaser," he replied, "is one-half fear and superstition, an' the
+other half imagination. There ain't no ghosts, but I know the
+/Greasers/ have seen 'em, all right. A Greaser can see anything scary
+if he makes up his mind to. If /I/ ever see one an' he keeps on being
+one after I shoot, I'll either believe in ghosts, or quit drinking."
+His eyes twinkled as he added: "An' of the two, I think I'd /prefer/
+to see ghosts!"
+
+He was flushed and restless with deviltry. His fifth glass always made
+him so; and to-night there was an added stimulus. He believed the
+strange Mexican to be Juan Alvarez, who was so clever that the
+Government had never been able to convict him. Alvarez was fearless to
+recklessness and Martin, eager to test him, addressed the group with
+the blunt terseness for which he was famed, and hated.
+
+"Greasers are cowards," he asserted quietly, and with a smile which
+invited excitement. He took a keen delight in analyzing the
+expressions on the faces of those hit. It was one of his favorite
+pastimes when feeling coltish.
+
+The group was shocked into silence, quickly followed by great unrest
+and hot, muttered words. Martin did not move a muscle, the smile was
+set, but between the half-closed eyelids crouched Combat, on its toes.
+The Mexicans knew it was there without looking for it--the tone of his
+voice, the caressing purr of his words, and his unnatural languor were
+signs well known to them. Not a criminal sneaking back from voluntary
+banishment in Mexico who had seen those signs ever forgot them, if he
+lived. Martin watched the group cat-like, keenly scrutinizing each
+face, reading the changing emotions in every shifting expression; he
+had this art down so well that he could tell when a man was debating
+the pull of a gun, and beat him on the draw by a fraction of a second.
+
+"De senor ees meestak," came the reply, as quiet and caressing as the
+words which provoked it. The strange Mexican was standing proudly and
+looking into the squinting eyes with only a grayness of face and a
+tigerish litheness to tell what he felt.
+
+"None go through the canyon after dark on Fridays," purred Martin.
+
+"/I/ go tro' de canyon nex' Friday night. Eef I do, then you mak
+apology to me?"
+
+"I'll limit my remark to all but one Greaser."
+
+The Mexican stepped forward. "I tak' thees gloove an' leave eet at de
+Beeg Ben', for you to fin' in daylight," he said, tapping one of
+Martin's gauntlets which lay on the bar. "You geev' me eet befo' I
+go?"
+
+"Yes; at nine o'clock to-morrow night," Martin replied, hiding his
+elation. He was sure that he knew the man now.
+
+The Mexican, cool and smiling, bowed and left the room, his companions
+hastening after him.
+
+"Well, I'll bet twenty-five dollars he flunks!" breathed the
+bartender, straightening up.
+
+Martin turned languidly and smiled at him. "I'll take that, Charley,"
+he replied.
+
+
+
+Johnny Nelson was always late, and on this occasion he was later than
+usual. He was to have joined Hopalong and Red, if Red had arrived, at
+Dent's at noon the day before, and now it was after nine o'clock at
+night as he rode through San Felippe without pausing and struck east
+for the canyon. The dropping trail down the canyon was serious enough
+in broad daylight, but at night to attempt its passage was foolhardy,
+unless one knew every turn and slant by heart, which Johnny did not.
+He was thirty-three hours late now, and he was determined to make up
+what he could in the next three.
+
+When Johnny left Hopalong at Dent's he had given his word to be back
+on time and not to keep his companions waiting, for Red might be on
+time and he would chafe if he were delayed. But, alas for Johnny's
+good intentions, his course took him through a small Mexican hamlet in
+which lived a senorita of remarkable beauty and rebellious eyes; and
+Johnny tarried in the town most of the day, riding up and down the
+streets, practising the nice things he would say if he met her. She
+watched him from the heavily draped window, and sighed as she wondered
+if her dashing Americano would storm the house and carry her off like
+the knights of old. Finally he had to turn away with heavy and
+reluctant heart, promising himself that he would return when no
+petulant and sarcastic companions were waiting for him. Then--ah! what
+dreams youth knows.
+
+Half an hour ahead of him on another trail rode Juan, smiling with
+satisfaction. He had come to San Felippe to get a look at the canyon
+on Friday nights, and Martin had given him an excuse entirely
+unexpected. For this he was truly grateful, even while he knew that
+the American had tried to pick a quarrel with him and thus rid the
+border of a man entirely too clever for the good of customs receipts;
+and failing in that, had hoped the treacherous canyon trail would gain
+that end in another manner. Old Jim Lane's fingers touched wires not
+one whit more sensitive than those which had sent Juan Alvarez to look
+over the San Miguel--and Lane's wires had been slow this time. When
+Juan had left the saloon the night before and had seen Manuel slip
+away from the group and ride off into the north, he had known that the
+ghost would show itself the following night.
+
+But Juan was to be disappointed. He was still some distance from the
+canyon when a snarling bulk landed on the haunches of his horse. He
+jerked loose his gun and fired twice and then knew nothing. When he
+opened his eyes he lay quietly, trying to figure it out with a head
+throbbing with pain from his fall. The cougar must have been desperate
+for food to attack a man. He moved his foot and struck something soft
+and heavy. His shots had been lucky, but they had not saved him his
+horse and a sprained arm and leg. There would be no gauntlet found at
+the Big Bend at daylight.
+
+When Johnny Nelson reached the twin boulders marking the beginning of
+the sloping run where the trail pitched down, he grinned happily at
+sight of the moon rising over the low hills and then grabbed at his
+holster, while every hair in his head stood up curiously. A wild,
+haunting, feminine scream arose to a quavering soprano and sobbed away
+into silence. No words can adequately describe the unearthly wail in
+that cry and it took a full half-minute for Johnny to become himself
+again and to understand what it was. Once more it arose, nearer, and
+Johnny peered into the shadows along a rough backbone of rock, his
+Colt balanced in his half-raised hand.
+
+"You come 'round me an' you'll get hurt," he muttered, straining his
+eyes to peer into the blackness of the shadows. "Come on out, Soft-
+foot; the moon's yore finish. You an' me will have it out right here
+an' now--I don't want no cougar trailing me through that ink-black
+canyon on a two-foot ledge--" he thought he saw a shadow glide across
+a dim patch of moonlight, but when his smoke rifted he knew he had
+missed. "Damn it! You've got a mate 'round here somewhere," he
+complained. "Well, I'll have to chance it, anyhow. Come on, bronc!
+Yo're shaking like a leaf--get out of this!"
+
+When he began to descend into the canyon he allowed his horse to pick
+its own way without any guidance from him, and gave all of his
+attention to the trail behind him. The horse could get along better by
+itself in the dark, and it was more than possible that one or two
+lithe cougars might be slinking behind him on velvet paws. The horse
+scraped along gingerly, feeling its way step by step, and sending
+stones rattling and clattering down the precipice at his left to
+tinkle into the stream at the bottom.
+
+"Gee, but I wish I'd not wasted so much time," muttered the rider
+uneasily. "This here canyon-cougar combination is the worst /I/ ever
+butted up against. I'll never be late again, not never; not for all
+the girls in the world. Easy, bronc," he cautioned, as he felt the
+animal slip and quiver. "Won't this trail ever start going up again?"
+he growled petulantly, taking his eyes off the black back trail, where
+no amount of scrutiny showed him anything, and turned in the saddle to
+peer ahead--and a yell of surprise and fear burst from him, while
+chills ran up and down his spine. An unearthly, piercing shriek
+suddenly rang out and filled the canyon with ear-splitting uproar and
+a glowing, sheeted half-figure of a man floated and danced twenty feet
+from him and over the chasm. He jerked his gun and fired, but only
+once, for his mount had its own ideas about some things and this
+particular one easily headed the list. The startled rider grabbed
+reins and pommel, his blood congealed with fear of the precipice less
+than a foot from his side, and he gave all his attention to the horse.
+But scared as he was he heard, or thought that he heard, a peculiar
+sound when he fired, and he would have sworn that he hit the mark--the
+striking of the bullet was not drowned in the uproar and he would
+never forget the sound of that impact. He rounded Big Bend as if he
+were coming up to the judge's stand, and when he struck the upslant of
+the emerging trail he had made a record. Cold sweat beaded his
+forehead and he was trembling from head to foot when he again rode
+into the moonlight on the level plain, where he tried to break another
+record.
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IV
+
+                            JOHNNY ARRIVES
+
+Meanwhile Hopalong and Red quarrelled petulantly and damned the erring
+Johnny with enthusiastic abandon, while Dent smiled at them and joked;
+but his efforts at levity made little impression on the irate pair.
+Red, true to his word, had turned up at the time set, in fact, he was
+half an hour ahead of time, for which miracle he endeavored to take
+great and disproportionate credit. Dent was secretly glad about the
+delay, for he found his place lonesome. He thoroughly enjoyed the
+company of the two gentlemen from the Bar-20, whose actions seemed to
+be governed by whims and who appeared to lack all regard for
+consequences; and they squabbled so refreshingly, and spent their
+money cheerfully. Now, if they would only wind up the day by fighting!
+Such a finish would be joy indeed. And speaking of fights, Dent was
+certain that Mr. Cassidy had been in one recently, for his face bore
+marks that could only be acquired in that way.
+
+After supper the two guests had relapsed into a silence which endured
+only as long as the pleasing fulness. Then the squabbling began again,
+growing worse until they fell silent from lack of adequate expression.
+Finally Red once again spoke of their absent friend.
+
+"We oughtn't get peevish, Hoppy--he's only thirty-six hours late,"
+suggested Red. "An' he might be a week," he added thoughtfully, as his
+mind ran back over a long list of Johnny's misdeeds.
+
+"Yes, he might. An' won't he have a fine cock-an'-bull tale to explain
+it," growled Hopalong, reminiscently. "His excuses are the worst part
+of it generally."
+
+"Eh, does he--make excuses?" asked Dent, mildly surprised.
+
+"He does to /us/," retorted Red savagely. "He's worse than a woman;
+take him all in all an' you've got the toughest proposition that ever
+wore pants. But he's a good feller, at that."
+
+"Well, you've got a lot of nerve, you have!" retorted Hopalong. "You
+don't want to say anything about the Kid--if there's anybody that can
+beat him in being late an' acting the fool generally, it's you. An'
+what's more, you know it!"
+
+Red wheeled to reply, but was interrupted by a sudden uproar outside,
+fluent swearing coming towards the house. The door opened with a bang,
+admitting a white-faced, big-eyed man with one leg jammed through the
+box he had landed on in dismounting.
+
+"Gimme a drink, quick!" he shouted wildly, dragging the box over to
+the bar with a cheerful disregard for chairs and other temporary
+obstructions. "Gimme a drink!" he reiterated.
+
+"Give you six hops in the neck!" yelled Red, missing and almost
+sitting down because of the enthusiasm he had put into his effort.
+Johnny side-stepped and ducked, and as he straightened up to ask for
+whys and wherefores, Red's eyes opened wide and he paused in his
+further intentions to stare at the apparition.
+
+"Sick?" queried Hopalong, who was frightened.
+
+"Gimme that drink!" demanded Johnny feverishly, and when he had it he
+leaned against the bar and mopped his face with a trembling hand.
+
+"What's the matter with you, anyhow?" asked Red, with deep anxiety.
+
+"Yes; for God's sake, what's happened to you?" demanded Hopalong.
+
+Johnny breathed deeply and threw back his shoulders as if to shake off
+a weight. "Fellers, I had a cougar soft-footing after me in that dark
+canyon, my cayuse ran away on a two-foot ledge up the wall,/--an'--I--
+saw--a--ghost/!"
+
+There was a respectful silence. Johnny, waiting a reasonable length of
+time for replies and exclamations, flushed a bit and repeated his
+frank and candid statement, adding a few adjectives to it. "/A real,
+screeching, flying ghost/! An' I'm going /home/, an' I'm going to
+/stay/ there. I ain't never coming back no more, not for anything.
+Damn this border country, /anyhow/!"
+
+The silence continued, whereupon Johnny grew properly indignant. "You
+act like I told you it was going to rain! Why don't you say something?
+Didn't you hear what I said, you fools!" he asked pugnaciously. "Are
+you in the habit of having a thing like that told you? Why don't you
+show some interest, you dod-blasted, thick-skulled wooden-heads?"
+
+Red looked at Hopalong, Hopalong looked at Red, and then they both
+looked at Dent, whose eyes were fixed in a stare on Johnny.
+
+"Huh!" snorted Hopalong, warily arising. "Was that all?" he asked,
+nodding at Red, who also arose and began to move cautiously toward
+their erring friend. "Didn't you see no more'n one ghost? Anybody that
+can see one ghost, an' no more, is wrong somewhere. Now, stop, an'
+think; didn't you see /two/?" He was advancing carefully while he
+talked, and Red was now behind the man who saw one ghost.
+
+"Why, you--" there was a sudden flurry and Johnny's words were cut
+short in the melee.
+
+"Good, Red! Ouch!" shouted Hopalong. "Look out! Got any rope, Dent?
+Well, hurry up: there ain't no telling what he'll do if he's loose.
+The mescal they sells down in this country ain't liquor--it's poison,"
+he panted. "An' he can't even stand whiskey!"
+
+Finding the rope was easier than finding a place to put it, and the
+unequal battle raged across the room and into the next, where it
+sounded as if the house were falling down. Johnny's voice was shrill
+and full of vexation and his words were extremely impolite and lacked
+censoring. His feet appeared to be numerous and growing rapidly,
+judging from the amount of territory they covered and defended, and
+Red joyfully kicked Hopalong in the melee, which in this instance also
+stands for stomach; Red always took great pains to do more than his
+share in a scrimmage. Dent hovered on the flanks, his hands full of
+rope, and begged with great earnestness to be allowed to apply it to
+parts of Johnny's thrashing anatomy. But as the flanks continued to
+change with bewildering swiftness he begged in vain, and began to make
+suggestions and give advice pleasing to the three combatants. Dent
+knew just how it should be done, and was generous with the knowledge
+until Johnny zealously planted five knuckles on his one good eye, when
+the engagement became general.
+
+The table skidded through the door on one leg and caromed off the bar
+at a graceful angle, collecting three chairs and one sand-box cuspidor
+on the way. The box on Johnny's leg had long since departed, as
+Hopalong's shin could testify. One chair dissolved unity and
+distributed itself lavishly over the room, while the bed shrunk
+silently and folded itself on top of Dent, who bucked it up and down
+with burning zeal and finally had sense enough to crawl from under it.
+He immediately celebrated his liberation by getting a strangle hold on
+two legs, one of which happened to be the personal property of
+Hopalong Cassidy; and the battle raged on a lower plane. Red raised
+one hand as he carefully traced a neck to its own proper head and then
+his steel fingers opened and swooped down and shut off the dialect.
+Hopalong pushed Dent off him and managed to catch Johnny's flaying arm
+on the third attempt, while Dent made tentative sorties against
+Johnny's spurred boots.
+
+"Phew! Can he fight like that when he's sober?" reverently asked Dent,
+seeing how close his fingers could come to his gaudy eye without
+touching it. "I won't be able to see at all in an hour," he added,
+gloomily.
+
+Hopalong, seated on Johnny's chest, soberly made reply as he tenderly
+flirted with a raw shin. "It's the mescal. I'm going to slip some of
+that stuff into Pete's cayuse some of these days," he promised, happy
+with a new idea. Pete Wilson had no sense of humor.
+
+"That ghost was plumb lucky," grunted Red, "an' so was the sea-
+captain," he finished as an afterthought, limping off toward the bar,
+slowly and painfully followed by his disfigured companions. "One
+drink; then to bed."
+
+After Red had departed, Hopalong and Dent smoked a while and then,
+knocking the ashes out of his pipe, Hopalong arose. "An' yet, Dent,
+there are people that believe in ghosts," he remarked, with a vast and
+settled contempt.
+
+Dent gave critical scrutiny to the scratched bar for a moment. "Well,
+the Greasers all say there /is/ a ghost in the San Miguel, though I
+never saw it. But some of them have seen it, an' no Greasers ride that
+trail no more."
+
+"Huh!" snorted Hopalong. "Some Greasers must have filled the Kid up on
+ghosts while he was filling hisself up on mescal. Ghosts? R-a-t-s!"
+
+"It shows itself only to Greasers, an' then only on Friday nights,"
+explained Dent, thoughtfully. This was Friday night. Others had seen
+that ghost, but they were all Mexicans; now that a "white" man of
+Johnny's undisputed calibre had been so honored Dent's skepticism
+wavered and he had something to think about for days to come. True,
+Johnny was not a Greaser; but even ghosts might make mistakes once in
+a while.
+
+Hopalong laughed, dismissing the subject from his mind as being
+beneath further comment. "Well, we won't argue--I'm too tired. An' I'm
+sorry you got that eye, Dent."
+
+"Oh, that's all right," hastily assured the store-keeper, smiling
+faintly. "I was just spoiling for a fight, an' now I've had it. Feels
+sort of good. Yes, first thing in the morning--breakfast'll be ready
+soon as you are. Good-night."
+
+But the proprietor couldn't sleep. Finally he arose and tiptoed into
+the room where Johnny lay wrapped in the sleep of the exhausted. After
+cautious and critical inspection, which was made hard because of his
+damaged eye, he tiptoed back to his bunk, shaking his head slowly. "He
+wasn't drunk," he muttered. "He saw that ghost all right; an' I'll bet
+everything I've got on it!"
+
+
+
+At daybreak three quarrelling punchers rode homeward and after a
+monotonous journey arrived at the bunk house and reported. It took
+them two nights adequately to describe their experiences to an envious
+audience. The morning after the telling of the ghost story things
+began to happen. Red starting it by erecting a sign.
+
+
+                       NOTISE--NO GHOSTS ALOWED
+
+
+An exuberant handful of the outfit watched him drive the last nail and
+step back to admire his work, and the running fire of comment covered
+all degrees of humor, and promised much hilarity in the future at the
+expense of the only man on the Bar-20 who had seen a ghost.
+
+In a week Johnny and his acute vision had become a bye-word in that
+part of the country and his friends had made it a practice to stop him
+and gravely discuss spirit manifestations of all kinds. He had
+thrashed Wood Wright and been thrashed by Sandy Lucas in two beautiful
+and memorable fights and was only waiting to recover from the last
+affair before having the matter out with Rich Finn. These facts were
+beginning to have the effect he strove for; though Cowan still sold a
+new concoction of gin, brandy, and whiskey which he called "Flying
+Ghost," and which he proudly guaranteed would show more ghosts per
+drink than any liquor south of the Rio Grande--and some of his patrons
+were eager to back up his claims with real money.
+
+This was the condition of affairs when Hopalong Cassidy strolled into
+Cowan's and forgot his thirst in the story being told by a strange
+Mexican. It was Johnny's ghost, without a doubt, and when he had
+carelessly asked a few questions he was convinced that Johnny had
+really seen something. On the way home he cogitated upon it and two
+points challenged his intelligence with renewed insistence: the ghost
+showed itself only on Friday, and then only to "Greasers." His
+suspicious mind would not rest until he had reviewed the question from
+all sides, and his opinion was that there was something more than
+spiritual about the ghost of the San Miguel--and a cold, practical
+reason for it.
+
+When he rode into the corral at the ranch he saw that another sign had
+been put on the corral wall. He had destroyed the first, speaking his
+mind in full at the time. He swept his gloved hand upward with a rush,
+tore the flimsy board from its fastenings, broke it to pieces across
+his saddle, and tossed the fragments from him. He was angry, for he
+had warned the outfit that they were carrying the joke too far, that
+Johnny was giving way to hysterical rage more frequently, and might
+easily do something that they all would regret. And he felt sorry for
+the Kid; he knew what Johnny's feelings were and he made up his mind
+to start a few fights himself if the persecution did not cease. When
+he stepped into the bunk house and faced his friends they listened to
+a three-minute speech that made them squirm, and as he finished
+talking the deep voice of the foreman endorsed the promises he had
+just heard made, for Buck had entered the gallery without being
+noticed. The joke had come to an end.
+
+When Johnny rode in that evening he was surprised to find Hopalong
+waiting for him a short distance from the corral and he replied to his
+friend's gesture by riding over to him. "What's up now?" he asked.
+
+"Come along with me. I want to talk to you for a few minutes," and
+Hopalong led the way toward the open, followed by Johnny, who was more
+or less suspicious. Finally Hopalong stopped, turned, and looked his
+companion squarely in the eyes. "Kid, I'm in dead earnest. This ain't
+no fool joke--now you tell me what that ghost looked like, how he
+acted, an' all about it. I mean what I say, because now I know that
+you saw /something/. If it wasn't a ghost it was made to look like
+one, anyhow. Now go ahead."
+
+"I've told you a dozen times already," retorted Johnny, his face
+flushing. "I've begged you to believe me an' told you that I wasn't
+fooling. How do I know you ain't now? I'm not going to tell--"
+
+"Hold on; yes, you are. Yo're going to tell it slow, an' just like you
+saw it," Hopalong interrupted hastily. "I know I've doubted it, but
+who wouldn't! Wait a minute--I've done a heap of thinking in the past
+few days an' I know that you saw a ghost. Now, everybody knows that
+there ain't no such thing as ghosts; then what was it you saw? There's
+a game on, Kid, an' it's a dandy; an' you an' me are going to bust it
+up an' get the laugh on the whole blasted crowd, from Buck to Cowan."
+
+Johnny's suspicions left him with a rush, for his old Hoppy was one
+man in a thousand, and when he spoke like that, with such sharp
+decision, Johnny knew what it meant. Hopalong listened intently and
+when the short account was finished he put out his hand and smiled.
+
+"We're the fools, Kid; not you. There's something crooked going on in
+that canyon, an' I know it! But keep mum about what we think."
+
+Johnny lost his grouch so suddenly and beamed upon his friends with
+such a superior air that they began to worry about what was in the
+wind. The suspense wore on them, for with Hopalong's assistance,
+Johnny might spring some game on them all that would more than pay up
+for the fun they had enjoyed at his expense; and the longer the
+suspense lasted the worse it became. They never lost sight of him
+while he was around and Hopalong had to endure the same surveillance;
+and it was no uncommon thing to see small groups of the anxious men
+engaged in deep discussion. When they found that Buck must have been
+told and noticed his smile was as fixed as Hopalong's or Johnny's,
+they were certain that trouble of some nature was in store for them.
+
+Several weeks later Buck Peters drew rein and waited for a stranger to
+join him.
+
+"Howdy. Is yore name Peters?" asked the newcomer, sizing him up in one
+trained glance.
+
+"Well, who are you, an' what do you want?"
+
+"I want to see Peters, Buck Peters. That yore name?"
+
+"Yes; what of it?"
+
+"My name's Fox. Old Jim Lane gave me a message for you," and the
+stranger spoke earnestly to some length. "There; that's the situation.
+We've got to have shrewd men that they don't know an' won't suspect.
+Lane wants to pay a couple of yore men their wages for a month or two.
+He said he was shore he could count on you to help him out."
+
+"He's right; he can. I don't forget favors. I've got a couple of men
+that--there's one of 'em now. Hey, Hoppy! Whoop-e, Hoppy!"
+
+Mr. Cassidy arrived quickly, listened eagerly, named Red and Johnny to
+accompany him, overruled his companions by insisting that if Johnny
+didn't go the whole thing was off, carried his point, and galloped off
+to find the lucky two, his eyes gleaming with anticipation and joy.
+Fox laughed, thanked the foreman, and rode on his way north; and that
+night three cow-punchers rode south, all strangely elated. And the
+friends who watched them go heaved signs of relief, for the reprisals
+evidently were to be postponed for a while.
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER V
+
+                     THE GHOST OF THE SAN MIGUEL
+
+Juan Alvarez had not been in San Felippe since Dick Martin left, which
+meant for over a month. Martin was down the river looking for a man
+who did not wish to be found; and some said that Martin cared nothing
+about international boundaries when he wanted any one real bad. And
+there was that geologist who wore blue glasses and was always
+puttering around in the canyon and hammering chips of rock off the
+steep walls; he must have slipped one noon, because his body was found
+on a flat boulder at the edge of the stream. Manuel had found it and
+wanted to be paid for his trouble in bringing it to town--but Manuel
+was a fool. Who, indeed, would pay good money for a dead Gringo,
+especially after he was dead? And there were three cow-punchers
+holding a herd of 6-X cattle up north, an hour or so from the town.
+They wanted to buy steers from Senor Rodriguez, but said that he was a
+robber and threatened to cut his ears off. Cannot a man name his own
+price? These cow-punchers liked to get drunk and gallop through San
+Felippe, shooting like crazy men. They got drunk one Friday night and
+went shouting and singing to the Big Bend in the canyon to see the
+flying ghost, and they called it names and fired off their pistols and
+sang loudly; and for a week they insulted all the Mexicans in town by
+calling them liars and cowards. Was it the fault of any one that the
+ghost would show itself only to Mexicans? Oh, these Gringos--might the
+good God punish them for their sins!
+
+Thus the peons complained to the padre while they kept one eye open
+for the advent of the rowdy cow-punchers, who always wanted to drink,
+and then to fight with some one, either with fists or pistols. Why
+should any one fight with them, especially with such things as fists?
+
+"Let them fight among themselves. What have you to do with heretics?"
+reproved the good padre, who ostracized himself from the pleasant
+parts of the wide world that he might make easier the life and
+struggles of his ignorant flock. "God is not hasty--He will punish in
+His own way when it best suits Him. And perhaps you will profit much
+if you are more regular to mass instead of wasting the cool hours of
+the morning in bed. Think well of what I have said, my children."
+
+But the cow-punchers were not punished and they swore they would not
+leave the vicinity until they had all the steers they wanted, and at
+their own price. And one night their herd stampeded and was checked
+only in time to save it from going over the canyon's edge. And for
+some reason Sanchez kept out of the padre's way and did not go to
+confess when he should, for the padre spoke plainly and set hard
+obligations for penance.
+
+The cow-punchers swore that it had been done by some Mexican and said
+that they would come to town some day soon and kill three Mexicans
+unless the guilty one was found and brought to them. Then the padre
+mounted his donkey and went out to them to argue and they finally told
+him they would wait for two weeks. But the padre was too smart for
+them--he sent a messenger to find Senor Dick Martin, and in one week
+Senor Martin came to town. There was no fight. The Gringo rowdies were
+cowards at heart and Martin could not shoot them down in cold blood,
+and he could not arrest them, because he was not a policeman or even a
+sheriff, but only a revenue officer, which was a most foolish law. But
+he watched them all the time and wanted them to fight--there was no
+more shooting or drunkenness in town. Nobody wanted to fight Senor
+Martin, for he was a great man. He even went so far as to talk with
+them about it and wave his arms, but they were as frightened at him as
+little children might be.
+
+So the Mexicans gossiped and exulted, some of the bolder of them even
+swaggering out to the Gringo camp; but Martin drove them back again,
+saying he would not allow them to bully men who could not retaliate,
+which was right and fair. Then, afraid to go away and leave the mad
+cow-punchers so close to town, he ordered them to drive their herd
+farther east, nearer to Dent's store, and never to return to San
+Felippe unless they needed the padre; and they obeyed him after a long
+talk. After seeing them settled in their new camp, which was on Monday
+morning, Martin returned to San Felippe and told the padre where he
+could be found and then rode away again. San Felippe celebrated for a
+whole day and two Mexican babies were christened after Senor Dick
+Martin, which was honor all around.
+
+Friday, when Manuel went over to spy upon the cow-punchers in their
+new camp, he found them so drunk that they could not stand, and before
+he crept away at dusk two of them were sleeping like gorged snakes and
+the third was firing off his revolver at random, which diversion had
+not a little to do with Manuel's departure.
+
+When Manuel crept away he headed straight for a crevice near the wall
+of the canyon at the Big Bend and, reaching it, looked all around and
+then dropped into it. Not long thereafter another Mexican appeared,
+this one from San Felippe, and also disappeared into the crevice. As
+darkness fell Manuel reappeared with something under his jacket and a
+moment later a light gleamed at the base of a slender sapling which
+grew on the edge of the canyon wall and leaned out over the abyss. It
+was cleverly placed, for only at one spot on the Mexican side of the
+distant Rio Grande could it be seen--the high canyon walls farther
+down screened it from any one who might be riding on the north bank of
+the river. In a moment there came an answering twinkle and Manuel,
+covering the lantern with a blanket, was swallowed up in the darkness
+of the crevice.
+
+Without a trace of emotion, Dick Martin, from his place of
+concealment, caught the answering gleam, and he watched Manuel
+disappear. "Cassidy was right in every point; Lewis or Sayre couldn't
+'a' done this better. I hope he won't be late," he muttered, and
+settled himself more comfortably to wait for the cue for action,
+smiling as the moon poked its rim over the low hills to his right.
+"This means promotion for me, or I've very much mistaken," he
+chuckled.
+
+Hopalong was not late and as soon as it was dark he and his companions
+stole into the canyon on foot. They felt their way down the east end
+of the trail, not far from Dent's, toward the Big Bend, which they
+gained without a mishap. Johnny was sent up to a place they had
+noticed and marked in their memories at the time they had rioted down
+to defy the ghost. He was to stop any one trying to escape up the San
+Felippe end of the canyon trail, and his confidence in his ability to
+do this was exuberant. Hopalong and Red slowly and laboriously worked
+their way down the perilous path leading to the bottom, forded the
+stream, and crept up the other side, where they found cover not far
+from a wide crack in the canyon wall. Upon the occasion of their
+hilarious visit to the Big Bend they had observed that a faint trail
+led to the crack and had cogitated deeply upon this fact.
+
+Three hours passed before the watchers in and above the canyon were
+rewarded by anything further; and then a light flickered far down the
+canyon and close to the edge of the stream. Immediately strange noises
+were heard and suddenly the ghost swung out of the opening in the rock
+wall near Hopalong and Red and danced above their heads, while the
+shrieking which had so frightened Johnny and his horse filled the
+canyon with uproar and sent Martin wriggling nearer to the crevice
+which he had watched so closely. The noise soon ceased, but the ghost
+danced on, and the sound of men stumbling along the rocky ledge
+bordering the stream became more and more audible. Four were in the
+party and they all carried bulky loads on their backs and grunted with
+pleasure and relief as they entered the entrance in the wall. When the
+last man had disappeared and the noise of their passing had died out,
+Johnny's rope sailed up and out, and the ghost swayed violently and
+then began to sag in an unaccountable manner towards the trail as the
+owner of the rope hitched its free end around a spur of rock and made
+it fast. Then he feverishly scrambled down the steep path to join his
+friends.
+
+Hopalong and Red, wriggling on their stomachs towards the crack in the
+wall, paused in amazement and stared across the canyon; and then the
+former chuckled and whispered something in his companion's ear. "That
+was why he lugged his rope along! He's just idiot enough to want a
+souveneer an' plaything at the risk of losing the game. Come on!--
+they'll tumble to what's up an' get away if we don't hustle."
+
+When the two punchers cautiously and noiselessly entered the crack and
+felt their way along its rock walls they heard fluent swearing in
+Spanish by the man who worked the ghost, and who could not understand
+its sudden ambition to take root. It was made painfully clear to him a
+moment later when a pair of brawny hands reached out of the darkness
+behind him and encircled his throat a hand's width below his gleaming
+cigarette. Another pair used cords with deftness and despatch and he
+was left by himself to browse upon the gag when all his senses
+returned.
+
+Hopalong, with Red inconsiderately stepping on his heels, felt his way
+along the wall of the crevice, alert and silent, his Colt nestling
+comfortably in his right hand, while the left was pushed out ahead
+feeling for trouble. As they worked farther away from the canyon
+distant voices could be heard and they forthwith proceeded even more
+cautiously. When Hopalong came to the second bend in the narrow
+passage he peered around it and stopped so abruptly that Red's nose
+almost spread itself over the back of his head. Red's indignation was
+all the harder to bear because it must bloom unheard.
+
+In a huge, irregular room, whose roof could not be discerned in the
+dim light of the few candles, five men were resting in various
+attitudes of ease as they discussed the events of the night and tried
+to compute their profits. They were secure, for Manuel, having by this
+time put away the ghost and megaphone, was on duty at the mouth of the
+crevice, and he was as sensitive to danger as a hound.
+
+"The risk is not much and the profits are large," remarked Pedro, in
+Spanish. "We must burn a candle for the repose of the soul of Carlos
+Martinez. It is he that made our plans safe. And a candle is not much
+when we--"
+
+"Hands up!" said a quiet voice, followed by grim commands. The
+Mexicans jumped as if stung by a scorpion, and could just discern two
+of the rowdy gringo cow-punchers in the heavy shadows of the opposite
+wall, but the candle light glinted in rings on the muzzles of their
+six-shooters. Had Manuel betrayed them? But they had little time or
+inclination for cogitation regarding Manuel.
+
+"Easy there!" shouted Red, and Pedro's hand stopped when half way to
+his chest. Pedro was a gambler by nature, but the odds were too heavy
+and he sullenly obeyed the command.
+
+"Stick 'em up! Stick 'em up! Higher yet, an' hold 'em there," purred a
+soft voice from the other end of the room, where Dick Martin smiled
+pleasantly upon them and wondered if there was anything on earth
+harder to pound good common sense into than a "Greaser's" head. His
+gun was blue, but it was, nevertheless, the most prominent part of his
+make-up, even if the light was poor.
+
+One of the Mexicans reached involuntarily for his gun, for he was a
+gun-man by training; while his companions felt for their knives,
+deadly weapons in a melee. Martin, crying, "Watch 'em, Cassidy!" side-
+stepped and lunged forward with the speed and skill of a boxer, and
+his hard left hand landed on the point of Juan Alvarez' jaw with a
+force and precision not to be withstood. But to make more certain that
+the Mexican would not take part in any possible demonstration of
+resistance, Martin's right circled up in a short half-hook and stopped
+against Juan's short ribs. Martin weighed one hundred and eighty
+pounds and packed no fat on his well-knit frame.
+
+At this moment a two-legged cyclone burst upon the scene in the person
+of Johnny Nelson, whose rage had been worked up almost to the weeping
+point because he had lost so much time hunting for the crevice where
+it was not. Seeing Juan fall, and the glint of knives, he started in
+to clean things up, yelling, "I'm a ghost! I'm a ghost! Take 'em
+alive! Take 'em alive!"
+
+Hopalong and Red felt that they were in his way, and taking care of
+one Mexican between them, while Martin knocked out another, they
+watched the exits,--for anything was possible in such a chaotic mix-
+up,--and gave Johnny plenty of room. The latter paused, triumphant,
+looked around to see if he had missed any, and then advanced upon his
+friends and shoved his jaw up close to Hopalong's face. "Tried to lose
+me, didn't you! Wouldn't wait for me! For seven cents an' a toothbrush
+I'd give you what's left!"
+
+Red grabbed him by trousers and collar and heaved him into the
+passageway. "Go out an' play with yore souveneer or we'll step on
+you!"
+
+Johnny sat up, rubbed certain portions of his anatomy, and grinned.
+"Oh, I've got it, all right! I'm shore going to take that ghost home
+an' make some of them fools /eat/ it!"
+
+Martin smiled as he finished tying the last prisoner. "That's right,
+Nelson; you've got it on 'em this time. Make 'em chew it."
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VI
+
+                        HOPALONG LOSES A HORSE
+
+For a month after their return from the San Miguel, Hopalong and his
+companions worked with renewed zest, and told and retold the other
+members of the outfit of their unusual experiences near the Mexican
+border. Word had come up to them that Martin had secured the
+conviction of the smugglers and was in line for immediate advancement.
+No one on the range had the heart to meet Johnny Nelson, for Johnny
+carried with him a piece of the ghost, and became pugnacious if his
+once-jeering friends and acquaintances refused to nibble on it. Cowan
+still sold his remarkable drink, but he had yielded to Johnny's
+persuasive methods and now called it "Nelson's Pet."
+
+One bright day the outfit started rounding up a small herd of three-
+year-olds, which Buck had sold, and by the end of the week the herd
+was complete and ready for the drive. This took two weeks and when
+Hopalong led his drive outfit through Hoyt's Corners on its homeward
+journey he felt the pull of the town of Grant, some miles distant, and
+it was too strong to be resisted. Flinging a word of explanation to
+the nearest puncher, he turned to lope away, when Red's voice checked
+him. Red wanted to delay his home-coming for a day or two and attend
+to a purely personal matter at a ranch lying to the west. Hopalong,
+knowing the reason for Red's wish, grinned and told him to go, and not
+to propose until he had thought the matter over very carefully. Red's
+reply was characteristic, and after arranging a rendezvous and naming
+the time, the two separated and rode toward their destinations, while
+the rest of the outfit kept on towards their ranch.
+
+"A man owes something to /all/ his friends," Hopalong mused. In this
+case he owed a return game of draw poker to certain of Grant's leading
+citizens, and he liked to pay his obligations when opportunity
+offered.
+
+It was mid-afternoon when he topped a rise and saw below him the
+handful of shacks making up the town. A look of pleased interest
+flickered across his face as he noticed a patched and dirty tent
+pitched close up to the nearest shack. "Show!" he exclaimed. "Now,
+ain't that luck! I'll shore take it in. If it's a circus, mebby it has
+a trick mule to ride--I'll never forget that one up in Kansas City,"
+he grinned. But almost instantly a doubt arose and tempered the grin.
+"Huh! Mebby it's the branding chute of some gospel sharp." As he drew
+near he focussed his eyes on the canvas and found that his fears were
+justified.
+
+"All Are Welcome," he spelled out slowly. "Shore they are!" he
+muttered. "I never nowhere saw such hard-working, all-embracing
+rustlers as them fellers. They'll stick their iron on anything from a
+wobbly calf or dying dogie to a staggering-with-age mosshead, an'
+shout 'tally one' with the same joy. Well, not for mine, /this/ trip.
+I'm going to graze loose an' buck-jump all I wants. Anyhow, if I did
+let him brand me I'd only backslide in a week," and Hopalong pressed
+his pony to a more rapid gait as two men emerged from the tent.
+"There's the sky-pilot now," he muttered--"an' there's Dave!" he
+shouted, waving his arm. "Oh, Dave! Dave!"
+
+Dave Wilkes looked up, and his grin of delight threatened to engulf
+his ears. "Hullo, Cassidy! Glad to see you! Keep right on for the
+store--I'll be with you in a minute." When David told his companion
+the visitor's name the evangelist held up his hand eloquently and
+spoke.
+
+"I know all about him!" he exclaimed sorrowfully. "If I can lead him
+out of his wickedness I will rest content though I save no more souls
+this fortnight. Is it all true?"
+
+"Huh! What true?"
+
+"All that I have heard about him."
+
+"Well, I dunno what you've heard," replied Dave, with grave caution,
+"but I reckon it might be if it didn't cover lying, stealing,
+cowardice, an' such coyote traits. He's shore a holy terror with a
+short gun, all right, but lemme tell you something mebby you /ain't/
+heard: There ain't a square man in this part of the country that won't
+feel some honored an' proud to be called a friend of Hopalong Cassidy.
+Them's the sentiments rampaging hereabouts. I ain't denying that he's
+gone an' killed off a lot of men first an' last--but the only trouble
+there is that he didn't get 'em soon enough. They all had lived too
+blamed long when they went an' stacked up agin him an' that lightning
+short gun of hissn. But, say, if yo're calculating to tackle him at
+yore game, lead him gentle--don't push none. He comes to life real
+sudden when he's shoved. So long; see you later, mebby."
+
+The revivalist looked after him and mused, "I hope I was informed
+wrong, but this much I have to be thankful for: The wickedness of most
+of these men, these over-grown children, is manly, stalwart, and open;
+few of them are vicious or contemptible. Their one great curse is
+drink."
+
+When Hopalong entered the store he was vociferously welcomed by two
+men, and the proprietor joining them, the circle was complete. When
+the conversation threatened to repeat itself cards were brought and
+the next two hours passed very rapidly. They were expensive hours to
+the Bar-20 puncher, who finally arose with an apologetic grin and
+slapped his thigh significantly.
+
+"Well, you've got it all; I'm busted wide open, except for a measly
+dollar, an' I shore hopes you don't want that," he laughed. "You play
+a whole lot better than you did the last time I was here. I've got to
+move along. I'm going east an' see Wallace an' from there I've got to
+meet Red an' ride home with him. But you come an' see us when you can
+--it's /me/ that wants revenge this time."
+
+"Huh; you'll be wanting it worse than ever if we do," smiled Dave.
+
+"Say, Hoppy," advised Tom Lawrence, "better drop in an' hear the sky-
+pilot's palaver before you go. It'll do you a whole lot of good, an'
+it can't do you no harm, anyhow."
+
+"You going?" asked Hopalong suspiciously.
+
+"Can't--got too much work to do," quickly responded Tom, his brother
+Art nodding happy confirmation.
+
+"Huh; I reckoned so!" snorted Hopalong sarcastically, as he shook
+hands all around. "You all know where to find us--drop in an' see us
+when you get down our way," he invited.
+
+"Sorry you can't stay longer, Cassidy," remarked Dave, as his friend
+mounted. "But come up again soon--an' be shore to tell all the boys we
+was asking for 'em," he called.
+
+Considering the speed with which Hopalong started for Wallace's, he
+might have been expecting a relay of "quarter" horses to keep it
+going, but he pulled up short at the tent. Such inconsistency is
+trying to the temper of the best-mannered horse, and this particular
+animal was not in the least good-mannered, wherefore its rider was
+obliged to soothe its resentment in his own peculiar way, listening
+meanwhile to the loud and impassioned voice of the evangelist
+haranguing his small audience.
+
+"I wonder," said Hopalong, glancing through the door, "if them friends
+of mine reckon I'm any ascared to go in that tent? Huh, I'll just show
+'em anyhow!" whereupon he dismounted, flung the reins over his horse's
+head, and strode through the doorway.
+
+The nearest seat, a bench made by placing a bottom board of the
+evangelist's wagon across two up-ended boxes, was close enough to the
+exhorter and he dropped into it and glanced carelessly at his nearest
+neighbor. The carelessness went out of his bearing as his eyes
+fastened themselves in a stare on the man's neck-kerchief. Hopalong
+was hardened to awful sights and at his best was not an artistic soul,
+but the villainous riot of fiery crimson, gaudy yellow, and pugnacious
+and domineering green which flaunted defiance and insolence from the
+stranger's neck caused his breath to hang over one count and then come
+double strong at the next exhalation. "Gee whiz!" he whispered.
+
+The stranger slowly turned his head and looked coldly upon the
+impudent disturber of his reverent reflections. "Meaning?" he
+questioned, with an upward slant in his voice. The neck-kerchief
+seemed to grow suddenly malignant and about to spring. "Meaning?"
+repeated the other with great insolence, while his eyes looked a
+challenge.
+
+While Hopalong's eyes left the scrambled color-insult and tried to
+banish the horrible after-image, his mind groped for the rules of
+etiquette governing free fist fights in gospel tents, and while he
+hesitated as to whether he should dent the classic profile of the
+color-bearer or just twist his nose as a sign of displeasure, the
+voice of the evangelist arose to a roar and thundered out. Hopalong
+ducked instinctively.
+
+"--Stop! Stop before it is too late, before death takes you in the
+wallow of your sins! Repent and gain salvation--"
+
+Hopalong felt relieved, but his face retained its expression of
+childlike innocence even after he realized that he was not being
+personally addressed; and he glanced around. It took him ninety-seven
+seconds to see everything there was to be seen, and his eyes were
+drawn irresistibly back to the stranger's kerchief. "Awful! Awful
+thing for a drinking man to wear, or run up against unexpectedly!" he
+muttered, blinking. "Worse than snakes," he added thoughtfully.
+
+"Look ahere, you--" began the owner of the offensive decoration, if it
+might be called such, but the evangelist drowned his voice in another
+flight of eloquence.
+
+"--/Peace/! /Peace/ is the message of the Lord to His children,"
+roared the voice from the upturned soap box, and when the speaker
+turned and looked in the direction of the two men-with-a-difference he
+found them sitting up very straight and apparently drinking in his
+words with great relish; whereupon he felt that he was making
+gratifying progress toward the salvation of their spotted souls. He
+was very glad, indeed, that he had been so grievously misinformed
+about the personal attributes of one Hopalong Cassidy,--glad and
+thankful.
+
+"Death cometh as a thief in the night," the voice went on. "Think of
+the friends who have gone before; who were well one minute and gone
+the next! And it must come to all of us, to all of us, to me and to
+you--"
+
+The man with the afflicted neck started rocking the bench.
+
+"Something is coming to somebody purty soon," murmured Hopalong. He
+began to sidle over towards his neighbor, his near hand doubled up
+into a huge knot of protuberant knuckles and white-streaked fingers;
+but as he was about to deliver his hint that he was greatly displeased
+at the antics of the bench, a sob came to his ears. Turning his head
+swiftly, he caught sight of the stranger's face, and sorrow was marked
+so strongly upon it that the sight made Hopalong gape. His hand opened
+slowly and he cautiously sidled back again, disgruntled, puzzled, and
+vexed at himself for having strayed into a game where he was so
+hopelessly at sea. He thought it all over carefully and then gave it
+up as being too deep for him to solve. But he determined one thing: He
+was not going to leave before the other man did, anyhow.
+
+"An' if I catch that howling kerchief outside," he muttered, smacking
+his lips with satisfaction at what was in store for it. His visit to
+Wallace was not very important, anyway, and it could wait on more
+important events.
+
+"There sits a sinner!" thundered out the exhorter, and Hopalong looked
+stealthily around for a sight of a villain. "God only has the right to
+punish. 'Vengeance is mine,' saith the Lord, and whosoever takes the
+law into his own hands, whosoever takes human life, defies the
+Creator. There sits a man who has killed his fellow-men, his brothers!
+Are you not a sinner, /Cassidy/?"
+
+Cassidy jumped clear of the bench as he jerked his head around and
+stared over the suddenly outstretched arm and pointing finger of the
+speaker and into his accusing eyes.
+
+"Answer me! Are you not a sinner?"
+
+Hopalong stood up, confused, bewildered, and then his suspended
+thoughts stirred and formed. "Guilty, I reckon, an' in the first
+degree. But they didn't get no more'n what was coming to 'em, no
+more'n they earned. An' that's straight!"
+
+"How do you know they didn't? How do you know they earned it? How do
+you /know/?" demanded the evangelist, who was delighted with the
+chance to argue with a sinner. He had great faith in "personal
+contact," and his was the assurance of training, of the man well
+rehearsed and fully prepared. And he knew that if he should be pinned
+into a corner by logic and asked for /his/ proofs, that he could
+squirm out easily and take the offensive again by appealing to faith,
+the last word in sophistry, and a greater and more powerful weapon
+than intelligence. /This/ was his game, and it was fixed; he could not
+lose if he could arouse enough interest in a man to hold him to the
+end of the argument. He continued to drive, to crowd. "What right have
+you to think so? What right have you to judge them? Have you divine
+insight? Are you inspired? 'Judge not lest ye be judged,' saith the
+Lord, and you /dare/ to fly in the face of that great command!"
+
+"You've got me picking the pea in /this/ game, all right," responded
+Hopalong, dropping back on the bench. "But lemme tell you one thing;
+Command or no command, devine or not devine, I know when a man has
+lived too long, an' when he's going to try to get me. An' all the
+gospel sharps south of heaven can't stop me from handing a thief what
+he's earned. Go on with the show, but count me out."
+
+While the evangelist warmed to the attack, vaguely realizing that he
+had made a mistake in not heeding Dave Wilkes' tip, Hopalong became
+conscious of a sense of relief stealing over him and he looked around
+wonderingly for the cause. The man with the kerchief had "folded his
+tents" and departed; and Hopalong, heaving a sigh of satisfaction,
+settled himself more comfortably and gave real attention to the
+discourse, although he did not reply to the warm and eloquent man on
+the soap box. Suddenly he sat up with a start as he remembered that he
+had a long and hard ride before him if he wished to see Wallace, and
+arising, strode towards the exit, his chest up and his chin thrust
+out. The only reply he made to the excited and personal remarks of the
+revivalist was to stop at the door and drop his last dollar into the
+yeast box before passing out.
+
+For a moment he stood still and pondered, his head too full of what he
+had heard to notice that anything out of the ordinary had happened.
+Although the evangelist had adopted the wrong method he had gained
+more than he knew and Hopalong had something to take home with him and
+wrestle out for himself in spare moments; that is, he would have had
+but for one thing: As he slowly looked around for his horse he came to
+himself with a sharp jerk, and hot profanity routed the germ of
+religion incubating in his soul. His horse was missing! Here was a
+pretty mess, he thought savagely; and then his expression of anger and
+perplexity gave way to a flickering grin as the probable solution came
+to his mind.
+
+"By the Lord, I never saw such a bunch to play jokes," he laughed.
+"Won't they never grow up? They was watching me when I went inside an'
+sneaked up and rustled my cayuse. Well, I'll get back again without
+much trouble, all right. They ought to know me better by this time."
+
+"Hey, stranger!" he called to a man who was riding past, "have you
+seen anything of a skinny roan cayuse fifteen han's high, white
+stocking on the near foreleg, an' a bandage on the off fetlock, Bar-20
+being the brand?"
+
+The stranger, knowing the grinning inquisitor by sight, suspected that
+a joke was being played: he also knew Dave Wilkes and that gentleman's
+friends. He chuckled and determined to help it along a little. "Shore
+did, pardner; saw a man leading him real cautious. Was he yourn?"
+
+"Oh, no; not at all. He belonged to my great-great-grandfather, who
+left him to my second cousin. You see, I borrowed it," he grinned,
+making his way leisurely towards the general store, kept by his friend
+Dave, the joker. "Funny how everybody likes a joke," he muttered,
+opening the door of the store. "Hey, Dave," he called.
+
+Mr. Wilkes wheeled suddenly and stared. "Why, I thought you was half-
+way to Wallace's by now!" he exclaimed. "Did you come back to lose
+that lone dollar?"
+
+"Oh, I lost that too. But yo're a real smart cuss, now ain't you?"
+queried Hopalong, his eyes twinkling and his face wreathed with good
+humor. "An' how innocent you act, too. Thought you could scare me,
+didn't you? Thought I'd go tearing 'round this fool town like a house
+afire, hey? Well, I reckon you can guess again. Now, I'm owning up
+that the joke's on me, so you hand over my cayuse, an' I'll make up
+for lost time."
+
+Dave Wilkes' face expressed several things, but surprise was dominant.
+"Why, I ain't even seen yore ol' cayuse, you chump! Last time I saw it
+you was on him, going like the devil. Did somebody pull you off it an'
+take it away from you?" he demanded with great sarcasm. "Is somebody
+abusing you?"
+
+Hopalong bit into a generous handful of dried apricots, chewed
+complacently for a moment, and replied: "'At's aw right; I want my
+cayuse." Swallowing hastily, he continued: "I want it, an' I've come
+to the right place for it, too. Hand it over, David."
+
+"Dod blast it, I tell you I ain't got it!" retorted Dave, beginning to
+suspect that something was radically wrong. "I ain't seen it, an' I
+don't know nothing about it."
+
+Hopalong wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "Well, then, Tom or Art
+does, all right."
+
+"No, they don't, neither; I watched 'em leave an' they rode straight
+out of town, an' went the other way, same as they allus do." Dave was
+getting irritated. "Look here, you; are you joking or drunk, or both,
+or is that animule of yourn really missing?"
+
+"Huh!" snorted Hopalong, trying some new prunes. "'Ese prunes er purty
+good," he mumbled, in grave congratulation. "I don' get prunes like
+'ese very of'n."
+
+"I reckon you don't! They ought to be good! Cost me thirty cents a
+half-pound," Dave retorted with asperity, anxiously shifting his feet.
+It didn't take much of a loss to wipe out a day's profits with him.
+
+"An' I don't reckon you paid none too much for 'em, at that," Mr.
+Cassidy responded, nodding his head in comprehension. "Ain't no worms
+in 'em, is there?"
+
+"Shore there is!" exploded Dave. "Plumb full of 'em!"
+
+"You don't say! Hardly know whether to take a chance with the worms or
+try the apricots. Ain't no worms in them, anyhow. But when am I going
+to get my cayuse? I've got a long way to go, an' delay is costly--how
+much did you say these yaller fellers cost?" he asked significantly,
+trying another handful of apricots.
+
+"On the dead level, cross my heart an' hope to die, but I ain't seen
+yore cayuse since you left here," earnestly replied Dave. "If you
+don't know where it is, then somebody went an' lifted it. It looks
+like it's up to you to do some hunting, 'stead of cultivating a belly-
+ache at /my/ expense. /I/ ain't trying to keep you, God knows!"
+
+Hopalong glanced out of the window as he considered, and saw, entering
+the saloon, the same puncher who had confessed to seeing his horse.
+"Hey Dave; wait a minute!" and he dashed out of the store and made
+good time towards the liquid refreshment parlor. Dave promptly nailed
+the covers on the boxes of prunes and apricots and leaned innocently
+against the cracker box to await results, thinking hard all the while.
+It looked like a plain case of horse-stealing to him.
+
+"Stranger," cried Hopalong, bouncing into the bar-room, "where did you
+see that cayuse of mine?"
+
+"The ancient relic of yore family was aheading towards Hoyt's
+Corners," the stranger replied, grinning broadly. "It's a long walk.
+Have something before you starts?"
+
+"Damn the walk! Who was riding him?"
+
+"Nobody at all."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"He wasn't being rid when I saw him."
+
+"Hang it, man; that cayuse was stole from me!"
+
+"Somewhat in the nature of a calamity, now ain't it?" smiled the
+stranger, enjoying his contributions to the success of the joke.
+
+"You bet yore life it is!" shouted Hopalong, growing red and then
+pale. "You tell me who was leading him, understand?"
+
+"Well, I couldn't see his face, honest I couldn't," replied the
+stranger. "Every time I tried it I was shore blinded by the most awful
+an' horrible neck-kerchief I've ever had the hard luck to lay my eyes
+on. Of all the drunks I ever met, them there colors was-- Hey! Wait a
+minute!" he shouted at Hopalong's back.
+
+"Dave, gimme yore cayuse an' a rifle--quick!" cried Hopalong from the
+middle of the street as he ran towards the store. "Hypocrite son-of-a-
+hoss-thief went an' run mine off. Might 'a' knowed nobody but a thief
+could wear such a kerchief!"
+
+"I'm with you!" shouted Dave, leading the way on the run towards the
+corral in the rear of his store.
+
+"No, you ain't with me, neither!" replied Hopalong, deftly saddling.
+"This ain't no plain hoss-thief case--it's a private grudge. See you
+later, mebby," and he was pacing a cloud of dust towards the outskirts
+of the town.
+
+Dave looked after him. "Well, that feller has shore got a big start on
+you, but he can't keep ahead of that Doll of mine for very long. She
+can out-run anything in these parts. 'Sides, Cassidy's cayuse looked
+sort of done up, while mine's as fresh as a bird. That thief will get
+what's coming to him, all right."
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER VII
+
+                        MR. CASSIDY COGITATES
+
+While Hopalong tried to find his horse, Ben Ferris pushed forward,
+circling steadily to the east and away from the direction of Hoyt's
+corners, which was as much a menace to his health and happiness as the
+town of Grant, twenty miles to his rear. If he could have been certain
+that no danger was nearer to him than these two towns, he would have
+felt vastly relieved, even if his horse was not fresh. During the last
+hour he had not urged it as hard as he had in the beginning of his
+flight and it had dropped to a walk for minutes at a stretch. This was
+not because he felt that he had plenty of time, but for the reason
+that he understood horses and could not afford to exhaust his mount so
+early in the chase. He glanced back from time to time as if fearing
+what might be on his trail, and well he might fear. According to all
+the traditions and customs of the range, both of which he knew well,
+somewhere between him and Grant was a posse of hard-riding cow-
+punchers, all anxious and eager for a glance at him over their sights.
+In his mind's eye he could see them, silent, grim, tenacious, reeling
+off the miles on that distance-eating lope. He had stolen a horse, and
+that meant death if they caught him. He loosened his gaudy kerchief
+and gulped in fear, not of what pursued, but of what was miles before
+him. His own saddle, strapped behind the one he sat in, bumped against
+him with each reach of the horse and had already made his back sore--
+but he must endure it for a time. Never in all his life had minutes
+been so precious.
+
+Another hour passed and the horse seemed to be doing well, much better
+than he had hoped--he would rest it for a few minutes at the next
+water while he drank his fill and changed the bumping saddle. As he
+rounded a turn and entered a heavily grassed valley he saw a stream
+close at hand and, leaping off, fixed the saddle first. As he knelt to
+drink he caught a movement and jumped up to catch his mount. Time
+after time he almost touched it, but it evaded him and kept up the
+game, cropping a mouthful of grass during each respite.
+
+"All right!" he muttered as he let it eat. "I'll get my drink while
+you eat an' then I'll get you!"
+
+He knelt by the stream again and drank long and deep. As he paused for
+breath something made him leap up and to one side, reaching for his
+Colt at the same instant. His fingers found only leather and he swore
+fiercely as he remembered--he had sold the Colt for food and kept the
+rifle for defence. As he faced the rear a horseman rounded the turn
+and the fugitive, wheeling, dashed for the stolen horse forty yards
+away, where his rifle lay in its saddle sheath. But an angry command
+and the sharp hum of a bullet fired in front of him checked his flight
+and he stopped short and swore.
+
+"I reckon the jig's up," remarked Mr. Cassidy, balancing the up-raised
+Colt with nicety and indifference.
+
+"Yea; I reckon so," sullenly replied the other, tears running into his
+eyes.
+
+"Well, I'm damned!" snorted Hopalong with cutting contempt. "Crying
+like a li'l baby! Got nerve enough to steal my cayuse, an' then go an'
+beller like a lost calf when I catch you. Yo're a fine specimen of a
+hoss-thief, I don't think!"
+
+"Yo're a liar!" retorted the other, clenching his fists and growing
+red.
+
+Mr. Cassidy's mouth opened and then clicked shut as his Colt swung
+down. But he did not shoot; something inside of him held his trigger
+finger and he swore instead. The idea of a man stealing his horse,
+being caught red-handed and unarmed, and still possessed of sufficient
+courage to call his captor a name never tolerated or overlooked in
+that country! And the idea that he, Hopalong Cassidy, of the Bar-20,
+could not shoot such a thief! "Damn that sky pilot! He's shore gone
+an' made me loco," he muttered, savagely, and then addressed his
+prisoner. "Oh, you ain't crying? Wind got in yore eyes, I reckon, an'
+sort of made 'em leak a little--that it? Or mebby them unholy green
+roses an' yaller grass on that blasted fool neck-kerchief of yourn are
+too much for /your/ eyes, too!"
+
+"Look ahere!" snapped the man on the ground, stepping forward, one
+fist upraised. "I came nigh onto licking you this noon in that gospel
+sharp's tent for making fun of that scarf, an' I'll do it yet if you
+get any smart about it! You mind yore own business an' close yore fool
+eyes if you don't like my clothes!"
+
+"Say! You ain't no cry-baby after all. Hanged if I even think yo're a
+real genuine hoss-thief!" enthused Mr. Cassidy. "You act like a twin
+brother; but what the devil ever made you steal that cayuse, anyhow?"
+
+"An' that's none of yore business, neither; but I'll tell you, just
+the same," replied the thief. "I had to have it; that's why. I'll
+fight you rough-an'-tumble to see if I keep it, or if you take the
+cayuse an' shoot me besides: is it a go?"
+
+Hopalong stared at him and then a grin struggled for life, got it, and
+spread slowly over his tanned countenance. "Yore gall is refreshing!
+Damned if it ain't worse than the scarf. Here, you tell me what made
+you take a chance like stealing a cayuse this noon--I'm getting to
+like you, bad as you are, hanged if I ain't!"
+
+"Oh, what's the use?" demanded the other, tears again coming into his
+eyes. "You'll think I'm lying an' trying to crawl out--an' I won't do
+neither."
+
+"/I/ didn't say /you/ was a liar," replied Hopalong. "It was the other
+way about. Reckon you can try me, anyhow; can't you?"
+
+"Yes; I s'pose so," responded the other, slowly, and in a milder tone
+of voice. "An' when I called you that I was mad and desperate. I was
+hasty--you see, my wife's dying, or dead, over in Winchester. I was
+riding hard to get to her before it was too late when my cayuse
+stepped into a hole just the other side of Grant--you know what
+happened. I shot the animal, stripped off my saddle an' hoofed it to
+town, an' dropped into that gospel dealer's layout to see if he could
+make me feel any better--which he could not. I just couldn't stand his
+palaver about death an' slipped out. I was going to lay for you an'
+lick you for the way you acted about this scarf--had to do something
+or go loco. But when I got outside there was yore cayuse, all saddled
+an' ready to go. I just up an' threw my saddle on it, followed suit
+with myself an' was ten miles out of town before I realized just what
+I'd done. But the realizing part of it didn't make no difference to me
+--I'd 'a' done it just the same if I had stopped to think it over.
+That's flat, an' straight. I've got to get to that li'l woman as quick
+as I can, an' I'd steal all the cayuses in the whole damned country if
+they'd do me any good. That's all of it--take it or leave it. I put it
+up to you. That's yore cayuse, but you ain't going to get it without
+fighting me for it! If you shoot me down without giving me a chance,
+all right! I'll cut a throat for that wore-out bronc!"
+
+Hopalong was buried in thought and came to himself just in time to
+cover the other and stop him not six feet away. "Just a minute, before
+you make me shoot you! I want to think about it."
+
+"Damn that gun!" swore the fugitive, nervously shifting his feet and
+preparing to spring. "We'd 'a' been fighting by this time if it wasn't
+for that!"
+
+"You stand still or I'll blow you apart," retorted Hopalong, grimly.
+"A man's got a right to think, ain't he? An' if I had somebody here to
+mind these guns so you couldn't sneak 'em on me I'd fight you so
+blamed quick that you'd be licked before you knew you was at it. But
+we ain't going to fight--/stand still/! You ain't got no show at all
+when yo're dead!"
+
+"Then you gimme that cayuse--my God, man! Do you know the hell I've
+been through for the last two days? Got the word up at Daly's Crossing
+an' ain't slept since. I'll go loco if the strain lasts much longer!
+She asking for me, begging to see me: an' me, like a damned idiot,
+wasting time out here talking to another. Ride with me, behind me--
+it's only forty miles more--tie me to the saddle an' blow me to pieces
+if you find I'm lying--do anything you wants; but let me get to
+Winchester before dark!"
+
+Hopalong was watching him closely and at the end of the other's
+outburst threw back his head. "I reckon I'm a plain fool, a jackass;
+but I don't care. I'll rope that cayuse for you. You come along to
+save time," Hopalong ordered, spurring forward. His borrowed rope
+sailed out, tightened, and in a moment he was working at the saddle.
+"Here, you; I'm going to swamp mounts with you--this one is fresher
+an' faster." He had his own saddle off and the other on in record
+time, and stepped back. "There; don't stand there like a fool--wake up
+an' hustle! I might change my mind--that's the way to move! Gimme that
+neck-kerchief for a souveneer, an' get out. Send that cayuse back to
+Dave Wilkes, at Grant--it's hissn. Don't thank me; just gimme that
+scarf an' ride like the devil."
+
+The other, already mounted, tore the kerchief from his throat and
+handed it quickly to his benefactor. "If you ever want a man to take
+you out of hell, send to Winchester for Ben Ferris--that's me. So
+long!"
+
+Mr. Cassidy sat on his saddle where he had dropped it after making the
+exchange and looked after the galloping horseman, and when a distant
+rise had shut him from sight, turned his eyes on the scarf in his hand
+and cogitated. Finally, with a long-drawn sigh he arose, and, placing
+the scarf on the ground, caught and saddled his horse. Riding gloomily
+back to where the riot of color fluttered on the grass he drew his
+Colt and sent six bullets through it with a great amount of
+satisfaction. Not content with the damage he had inflicted, he leaned
+over and swooped it up. Riding further he also swooped up a stone and
+tied the kerchief around it, and then stood up in his stirrups and
+drew back his arm with critical judgment. He sat quietly for a time
+after the gaudy missile had disappeared into the stream and then,
+wheeling, cantered away. But he did not return to the town of Grant--
+he lacked the nerve to face Dave Wilkes and tell his childish and
+improbable story. He would ride on and meet Red as they had agreed; a
+letter would do for Mr. Wilkes, and after he had broken the shock in
+that manner he could pay him a personal visit sometime soon. Dave
+would never believe the story and when it was told Hopalong wanted to
+have the value of the horse in his trousers pocket. Of course, Ben
+Ferris /might/ have told the truth and he might return the horse
+according to directions. Hopalong emerged from his reverie long enough
+to appeal to his mount:
+
+"Bronc, I've been thinking: am I or am I not a jackass?"
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER VIII
+
+                          RED BRINGS TROUBLE
+
+After a night spent on the plain and a cigarette for his breakfast,
+Hopalong, grouchy and hungry, rode slowly to the place appointed for
+his meeting with Red, but Mr. Connors was over two hours late. It was
+now mid-forenoon and Hopalong occupied his time for a while by riding
+out fancy designs on the sand; but he soon tired of this makeshift
+diversion and grew petulant. Red's tardiness was all the worse because
+the erring party to the agreement had turned in his saddle at Hoyt's
+Corners and loosed a flippant and entirely uncalled-for remark about
+his friend's ideas regarding appointments.
+
+"Well, that red-headed Romeo is shore late this time," Hopalong
+muttered. "Why don't he find a girl closer to home, anyhow? Thank the
+Lord I ain't got no use for shell games of any kind. Here I am,
+without anything to eat an' no prospects of anything, sitting up on
+this locoed layout like a sore thumb, an' can't move without hitting
+myself! An' it'll be late to-day before I can get any grub, too. Oh,
+well," he sighed, "I ain't in love, so things might be a whole lot
+worse with me. An' he ain't in love, neither, only he won't listen to
+reason. He gets mad an' calls me a sage hen an' says I'm stuck on
+myself because some fool told me I had brains."
+
+He laughed as he pictured the object of his friend's affections. "Huh;
+anybody that got one good, square look at her wouldn't ever accuse him
+of having brains. But he'll forget her in a month. That was the life
+of his last hobbling fit an' it was the worst he ever had."
+
+Grinning at his friend's peculiarly human characteristics he leaned
+back in the saddle and felt for tobacco and papers. As he finished
+pouring the chopped alfalfa into the paper he glanced up and saw a
+mounted man top the sky-line of the distant hills and shoot down the
+slope at full speed.
+
+"I knowed it: started three hours late an' now he's trying to make it
+up in the last mile," Hopalong muttered, dexterously spreading the
+tobacco along the groove and quickly rolling the cigarette. Lighting
+it he looked up again and saw that the horseman was wildly waving a
+sombrero.
+
+"Huh! Wigwagging for forgiveness," laughed the man who waited. "Old
+son-of-a-gun, I'd wait a week if I had some grub, an' he knows it.
+Couldn't get mad at him if I tried."
+
+Mr. Connors' antics now became frantic and he shouted something at the
+top of his voice. His friend spurred his mount. "Come on, bronc; wake
+up. His girl said 'yes' an' now he wants me to get him out of his
+trouble." Whereupon he jogged forward. "What's that?" he shouted,
+sitting up very straight. "What's that?"
+
+Red energetically swept the sombrero behind him and pointed to the
+rear. "War-whoops! W-a-r w-h-o-o-p-s! Injuns, you chump!" Mr. Connors
+appeared to be mildly exasperated.
+
+"Yes?" sarcastically rejoined Mr. Cassidy in his throat, and then
+shouted in reply: "Love an' liquor don't mix very well in you. Wake
+up! Come out of it!"
+
+"That's straight--I mean it!" cried Mr. Connors, close enough now to
+save the remainder of his lungs. "It's a bunch of young bucks on their
+first war-trail, I reckon. 'T ain't Geronimo, all right; I wouldn't be
+here now if it was. Three of 'em chased me an' the two that are left
+are coming hot-foot somewhere the other side of them hills. They act
+sort of mad, too."
+
+"Mebby they ain't acting at all," cheerily replied his companion. "An'
+then that's the way you got that graze?" pointing to a bloody furrow
+on Mr. Connors' cheek. "But just the same it looks like the trail left
+by a woman's finger nail."
+
+"Finger nail nothing," retorted Mr. Connors, flushing a little. "But,
+for God's sake, are you going to sit here like a wart on a dead dog
+an' wait for 'em?" he demanded with a rising inflection. "Do you
+reckon yo're running a dance, or a party, or something like that?"
+
+"How many?" placidly inquired Mr. Cassidy, gazing intently towards the
+high sky-line of the distant hills.
+
+"Two--an' I won't tell you again, neither!" snapped the owner of the
+furrowed cheek. "The others are 'way behind now--but we're standing
+/still/!"
+
+"Why didn't you say there was others?" reproved Hopalong. "Naturally I
+didn't see no use of getting all het up just because two sprouted
+papooses feel like crowding us a bit; it wouldn't be none of /our/
+funeral, would it?" and the indignant Mr. Cassidy hurriedly dismounted
+and hid his horse in a nearby chaparral and returned to his companion
+at a run.
+
+"Red, gimme yore Winchester an' then hustle on for a ways, have an
+accident, fall off yore cayuse, an' act scared to death, if you know
+how. It's that little trick Buck told us about, an' it shore ought to
+work fine here. We'll see if two infant feather-dusters can lick the
+Bar-20. Get a-going!"
+
+They traded rifles, Hopalong taking the repeater in place of the
+single-shot gun he carried, and Red departed as bidden, his face
+gradually breaking into an enthusiastic grin as he ruminated upon the
+plan. "Level-headed old cuss; he's a wonder when it comes to planning
+or fighting. An' lucky,--well, I reckon!"
+
+Hopalong ran forward for a short distance and slid down the steep bank
+of a narrow arroyo and waited, the repeater thrust out through the
+dense fringe of grass and shrubs which bordered the edge. When settled
+to his complete satisfaction and certain that he was effectually
+screened from the sight of any one in front of him, he arose on his
+toes and looked around for his companion, and laughed. Mr. Connors was
+bending very dejectedly apparently over his prostrate horse, but in
+reality was swearing heartily at the ignorant quadruped because it
+strove with might and main to get its master's foot off its head so it
+could arise. The man in the arroyo turned again and watched the hills
+and it was not long before he saw two Indians burst into view over the
+crest and gallop towards his friend. They were not to be blamed
+because they did not know the pursued had joined a friend, for the
+second trail was yet some distance in front of them.
+
+"Pair of budding warriors, all right; an' awful important. Somebody
+must 'a' told /them/ they had brains," Mr. Cassidy muttered. "They're
+just at the age when they knows it all an' have to go 'round raising
+hell all the time. Wonder when they jumped the reservation."
+
+The Indians, seeing Mr. Connors arguing with his prostrate horse, and
+taking it for granted that he was not stopping for pleasure or to view
+the scenery, let out a yell and dashed ahead at grater speed, at the
+same time separating so as to encircle him and attack him front and
+rear at the same time. They had a great amount of respect for cowboys.
+
+This manoeuvre was entirely unexpected and clashed violently with Mr.
+Cassidy's plan of procedure, so two irate punchers swore heartily at
+their rank stupidity in not counting on it. Of course everybody that
+knew anything at all about such warfare knew that they would do just
+such a thing, which made it all the more bitter. But Red had
+cultivated the habit of thinking quickly and he saw at once that the
+remedy lay with him; he astonished the exultant savages by straddling
+his disgruntled horse as it scrambled to its feet and galloping away
+from them, bearing slightly to the south, because he wished to lure
+his pursuers to ride closer to his anxious and eager friend.
+
+This action was a success, for the yelling warriors, slowing
+perceptibly because of their natural astonishment at the resurrection
+and speed of an animal regarded as dead or useless, spurred on again,
+drawing closer together, and along the chord of the arc made by Mr.
+Connors' trail. Evidently the fool white man was either crazy or had
+original and startling ideas about the way to rest a horse when hard
+pressed, which pleased them much, since he had lost so much time. The
+pleasures of the war-trail would be vastly greater if all white men
+had similar ideas.
+
+Hopalong, the light of fighting burning strong in his eyes, watched
+them sweep nearer and nearer, splendid examples of their type and
+seeming to be a part of their mounts. Then two shots rang out in quick
+succession and a cloud of pungent smoke arose lazily from the edge of
+the arroyo as the warriors fell from their mounts not sixty yards from
+the hidden marksman.
+
+Mr. Connors' rifle spat fire once to make assurance doubly sure and he
+hastily rejoined his friend as that person climbed out of the arroyo.
+
+"Huh! They must have been half-breeds!" snorted Red in great disgust,
+watching his friend shed sand from his clothes. "I allus opined that
+'Paches was too blamed slick to bite on a game like that."
+
+"Well, they are purty 'lusive animals, 'Paches; but there are
+exceptions," replied Hopalong, smiling at the success of their scheme.
+"Them two ain't 'Paches--they're the exceptions. But let me tell you
+that's a good game, just the same. It is as long as they don't see the
+second trail in time. Didn't Buck and Skinny get two that way?"
+
+"Yes, I reckon so. But what'll we do now? What's the next play?" asked
+Red, hurriedly, his eyes searching the sky-line of the hills. "The
+rest of the coyotes will be here purty soon, an' they'll be madder
+than ever now. An' you better gimme back that gun, too."
+
+"Take yore old gun--who wants the blamed thing, anyhow?" Hopalong
+demanded, throwing the weapon at his friend as he ran to bring up the
+hidden horse. When he returned he grinned pleasantly. "Why, we'll go
+on like we was greased for calamity, that's what we'll do. Did you
+reckon we was going to play leap-frog around here an' wait for the
+rest of them paint-shops, like a blamed fool pair of idiots?"
+
+"I didn't know what /you/ might do, remembering how you acted when I
+met you," retorted Red, shifting his cartridge belt so the empty loops
+were behind and out of the way. "But I shore knowed what we ought to
+do, all right."
+
+"Well, mebby you also know how many's headed this way; do you?"
+
+"You've got me stumped there; but there's a round dozen, anyway," Red
+replied. "You see, the three that chased me were out scouting ahead of
+the main bunch; an' I didn't have no time to take no blasted census."
+
+"Then we've got to hit the home trail, an' hit it hard. Wind up that
+four-laigged excuse of yourn, an' take my dust," Hopalong responded,
+leading the way. "If we can get home there'll be a lot of disgusted
+braves hitting the high spots on the back trail trying to find a way
+out. Buck an' the rest of the boys will be a whole lot pleased, too.
+We can muster thirty men in two hours if we gets to Buckskin, an'
+that's twenty more than we'll need."
+
+"Tell you one thing, Hoppy; we can get as far as Powers' old ranch
+house, an' that's shore," replied Red, thoughtfully.
+
+"Yes!" exploded his companion in scorn and pity. "That old sieve of a
+shack ain't good enough for /me/ to die in, no matter what you think
+about it. Why, it's as full of holes as a stiff hat in a melee. Yo're
+on the wrong trail; think again."
+
+Mr. Cassidy objected not because he believed that Powers' old ranch
+house was unworthy of serious consideration as a place of refuge and
+defence, but for the reason that he wished to reach Buckskin so his
+friends might all get in on the treat. Times were very dull on the
+ranch, and this was an occasion far too precious to let slip by.
+Besides, he then would have the pleasure of leading his friends
+against the enemy and battling on even terms. If he sought shelter he
+and Red would have to fight on the defensive, which was a game he
+hated cordially because it put him in a relatively subordinate
+position and thereby hurt his pride.
+
+"Let me tell you that it's a whole lot better than thin air with a
+hard-working circle around us--an' you know what that means," retorted
+Mr. Connors. "But if you don't want to take a chance in the shack, why
+mebby we can make Wallace's, or the Cross-O-Cross. That is, if we
+don't get turned out of our way."
+
+"We don't head for no Cross-O-Cross or Wallace's," rejoined his friend
+with emphasis, "an' we won't waste no time in Powers' shack, neither;
+we'll push right through as hard as we can go for Buckskin. Let them
+fellers find their own hunting--our outfit comes first. An' besides
+that'll mean a detour in a country fine for ambushes. We'd never get
+through."
+
+"Well, have it yore own way, then!" snapped Red. "You allus was a
+hard-headed old mule, anyhow." In his heart Red knew that Hopalong was
+right about Wallace's and the Cross-O-Cross.
+
+Some time after the two punchers had quitted the scene of their trap,
+several Apaches loped up, read the story of the tragedy at a glance,
+and galloped on in pursuit. They had left the reservation a fortnight
+before under the able leadership of that veteran of many war-trails--
+Black Bear. Their leader, chafing at inaction and sick of the monotony
+of reservation life, had yielded to the entreaties of a score of
+restless young men and slipped away at their head, eager for the joys
+of raiding and plundering. But instead of stealing horses and
+murdering isolated whites as they had expected, they met with heavy
+repulses and were now without the mind of their leader. They had fled
+from one defeat to another and twice had barely eluded the cavalry
+which pursued them. Now two more of their dwindling force were dead
+and another had been found but an hour before. Rage and ferocity
+seethed in each savage heart and they determined to get the puncher
+they had chased, and that other whose trail they now saw for the first
+time. They would place at least one victory against the string of
+their defeats, and at any cost. Whips rose and fell and the war-party
+shot forward in a compact group, two scouts thrown ahead to feel the
+way.
+
+Red and Hopalong rode on rejoicing, for there were three less Apaches
+loose in the Southwest for the inhabitants to swear about and fear,
+and there was an excellent chance of more to follow. The Southwest had
+no toleration for the Government's policy of dealing with Indians and
+derived a great amount of satisfaction every time an Apache was
+killed. It still clung to the time-honored belief that the only good
+Indian was a dead one. Mr. Cassidy voiced his elation and then rubbed
+an empty stomach in vain regret,--when a bullet shrilled past his
+head, so unexpectedly as to cause him to duck instinctively and then
+glance apologetically at his red-haired friend; and both spurred their
+mounts to greater speed. Next Mr. Connors grabbed frantically at his
+perforated sombrero and grew petulant and loquacious.
+
+"Both them shots was lucky, Hoppy; the feller that fired at me did it
+on the dead run; but that won't help us none if one of 'em connects
+with us. You gimme that Sharps--got to show 'em that they're taking
+big chances crowding us this way." He took the heavy rifle and turned
+in the saddle. "It's an even thousand, if it's a yard. He don't look
+very big, can't hardly tell him from his cayuse; an' the wind's puffy.
+Why don't you dirty or rust this gun? The sun glitters all along the
+barrel. Well, here goes."
+
+"Missed by a mile," reproved Hopalong, who would have been stunned by
+such a thing as a hit under the circumstances, even if his good-
+shooting friend had made it.
+
+"Yes! Missed the coyote I aimed for, but I got the cayuse of his off
+pardner; see it?"
+
+"Talk about luck!"
+
+"That's all right: it takes blamed good shooting to miss that close in
+this case. Look! It's slowed 'em up a bit, an' that's about all I
+hoped to do. Bet they think I'm a real, shore-'nuff medicine-man. Now
+gimme another cartridge."
+
+"I will not; no use wasting lead at this range. We'll need all the
+cartridges we got before we get out of this hole. You can't do nothing
+without stopping--an' that takes time."
+
+"Then I'll stop! The blazes with the time! Gimme another, d'ye hear?"
+
+Mr. Cassidy heard, complied, and stopped beside his companion, who was
+very intent upon the matter at hand. It took some figuring to make a
+hit when the range was so great and the sun so blinding and the wind
+so capricious. He lowered the rifle and peered through the smoke at
+the confusion he had caused by dropping the nearest warrior. He was
+said to be the best rifle shot in the Southwest, which means a great
+deal, and his enemies did not deny it. But since the Sharps shot a
+special cartridge and was reliable up to the limit of its sight gauge,
+a matter of eighteen hundred yards, he did not regard the hit as
+anything worthy of especial mention. Not so his friend, who grinned
+joyously and loosed his admiration.
+
+"Yo're a shore wonder with that gun, Red! Why don't you lose that
+repeater an' get a gun like mine? Lord, if I could use a rifle like
+you, I wouldn't have that gun of yourn for a gift. Just look at what
+you did with it! Please get one like it."
+
+"I'm plumb satisfied with the repeater," replied Red. "I don't miss
+very often at eight hundred with it, an' that's long enough range for
+most anybody. An' if I do miss, I can send another that won't, an'
+right on the tail of the first, too."
+
+"Ah, the devil! You make me disgusted with yore fool talk about that
+carbine!" snapped his companion, and the subject was dropped.
+
+The merits of their respective rifles had always been a bone of
+contention between them and one well chewed, at that. Red was very
+well satisfied with his Winchester, and he was a good judge.
+
+"You did stop 'em a little," asserted Mr. Cassidy some time later when
+he looked back. "You stopped 'em coming straight, but they're
+spreading out to work up around us. Now, if we had good cayuses
+instead of these wooden wonders, we could run away from 'em dead easy,
+draw their best mounted warriors to the front an' then close with 'em.
+Good thing their cayuses are well tired out, for as it is we've got to
+make a stand purty soon. Gee! They don't like you, Red; they're
+calling you names in the sign language. Just look at 'em cuss you!"
+
+"How much water have you got?" inquired his friend with anxiety.
+
+"Canteen plumb full. How're you fixed?"
+
+"I got the same, less one drink. That gives us enough for a couple of
+days with some to spare, if we're careful," Mr. Connors replied. New
+Mexican canteens are built on generous lines and are known as life-
+preservers.
+
+"Look at that glory-hunter go!" exclaimed Red, watching a brave who
+was riding half a mile to their right and rapidly coming abreast of
+them. "Wonder how he got over there without us seeing him."
+
+"Here; stop him!" suggested Hopalong, holding out his Sharps. "We
+can't let him get ahead of us and lay in ambush--that's what he's
+playing to do."
+
+"My gun's good, and better, for me, at this range; but you know, I
+can't hit a jack-rabbit going over rough country as fast as that
+feller is," replied his companion, standing up in his stirrups and
+firing.
+
+"Huh! Never touched him! But he's edging off a-plenty. See him cuss
+you. What's he calling you, anyhow?"
+
+"Aw, shut up! How the devil do /I/ know? I don't talk with my arms."
+
+"Are you superstitious, Red?"
+
+"No! Shut up!"
+
+"Well, I am. See that feller over there? If he gets in front of us
+it's a shore sign that somebody's going to get hurt. He'll have plenty
+of time to get cover an' pick us off as we come up."
+
+"Don't you worry--his cayuse is deader'n ours. They must 'a' been
+pushing on purty hard the last few days. See it stumble?--what'd I
+tell you!"
+
+"Yes; but they're gaining on us slow but shore. We've got to make a
+stand purty soon--how much further do you reckon that infernal shack
+is, anyhow?" Hopalong asked sharply.
+
+"'T ain't fur off--see it any minute now."
+
+"Here," remarked Hopalong, holding out his rifle, "stencil yore mark
+on his hide; catch him just as he strikes the top of that little
+rise."
+
+"Ain't got time--that shack can't be much further."
+
+And it wasn't, for as they galloped over a rise they saw, half a mile
+ahead of them, an adobe building in poor state of preservation. It was
+Powers' old ranch house, and as they neared it, they saw that there
+was no doubt about the holes.
+
+"Told you it was a sieve," grunted Hopalong, swinging in on the tail
+of his companion. "Not worth a hang for anything," he added bitterly.
+
+"It'll answer, all right," retorted Red grimly.
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IX
+
+                         MR. HOLDEN DROPS IN
+
+Mr. Cassidy dismounted and viewed the building with open disgust,
+walking around it to see what held it up, and when he finally realized
+that it was self-supporting his astonishment was profound. Undoubtedly
+there were shacks in the United States in worse condition, but he
+hoped their number was small. Of course he knew that the building was
+small. Of course he knew that the building would make a very good
+place of defence, but for the sake of argument he called to his
+companion and urged that they be satisfied with what defence they
+could extemporize in the open. Mr. Connors hotly and hastily dissented
+as he led the horses into the building, and straightway the subject
+was arbitrated with much feeling and snappy eloquence. Finally
+Hopalong thought that Red was a chump, and said so out loud, whereat
+Red said unpleasant things about his good friend's pedigree,
+attributes, intelligence, et al., even going so far as to
+prognosticate his friend's place of eternal abode. The remarks were
+fast getting to be somewhat personal in tenor when a whine in the air
+swept up the scale to a vicious shriek as it passed between them,
+dropped rapidly to a whine again and quickly died out in the distance,
+a flat report coming to their ears a few seconds later. Invisible bees
+seemed to be winging through the air, the angry and venomous droning
+becoming more pronounced each passing moment, and the irregular
+cracking of rifles grew louder rapidly. An angry /s-p-a-t!/ told of
+where a stone behind them had launched the ricochet which hurled
+skyward with a wheezing scream. A handful of 'dobe dust sprang from
+the corner of the building and sifted down upon them, causing Red to
+cough.
+
+"That ricochet was a Sharps!" exclaimed Hopalong, and they lost no
+time in getting into the building, where the discussion was renewed as
+they prepared for the final struggle. Red grunted his cheerful
+approval, for now he was out of the blazing sun and where he could
+better appreciate the musical tones of the flying bullets; but his
+companion, slamming shut the door and propping it with a fallen roof-
+beam, grumbled and finally gave rein to his rancor by sneering at the
+Winchester.
+
+"It shore gets me that after all I have said about that gun you will
+tote it around with you and force yoreself into a suicide's grave,"
+quoth Mr. Cassidy, with exuberant pugnacity. "I ain't in no way
+objecting to the suicide part of it, but I can't see that it's at all
+fair to drag /me/ onto the edge of everlasting eternity with you. If
+you ain't got no regard for yore own life you shore ought to think a
+little about yore friend's. Now you'll waste all yore cartridges an'
+then come snooping around me to borrow my gun. Why don't you lose the
+damned thing?"
+
+"What I pack ain't none of yore business, which same I'll uphold,"
+retorted Mr. Connors, at last able to make himself heard. "You get
+over on yore own side an' use yore Colt; I've wondered a whole lot
+where you ever got the sense to use a Colt--/I/ wouldn't be a heap
+surprised to see you toting a pearl-handled .22, like the kids use.
+Now you 'tend to yore grave-yard aspirants, an' lemme do the same with
+mine."
+
+"The Lord knows I've stood a whole lot from you because you just can't
+help being foolish, but I've got plumb weary and sick of it. It stops
+right here or you won't get no 'Paches," snorted Hopalong, peering
+intently through a hole in the shack. The more they squabbled the
+better they liked it,--controversies had become so common that they
+were merely a habit; and they served to take the grimness out of
+desperate situations.
+
+"Aw, you can't lick one side of me," averred Red loftily. "You never
+did stop anybody that was anything," he jeered as he fired from his
+window. "Why, you couldn't even hit the bottom of the Grand Canyon if
+you leaned over the edge."
+
+"You could, if you leaned too far, you red-headed wart of a half-
+breed," snapped Hopalong. "But how about the Joneses, Tarantula
+Charley, Slim Travennes, an' all the rest? How about them, hey?"
+
+"Huh! You couldn't 'a' got any of 'em if they had been sober," and Mr.
+Connors shook so with mirth that the Indian at whom he had fired got
+away with a whole skin and cheerfully derided the marksman. "That
+'Pache shore reckons it was you shooting at him, I missed him so far.
+Now, you shut up--I want to get some so we can go home. I don't want
+to stay out here all night an' the next day as well," Red grumbled,
+his words dying slowly in his throat as he voiced other thoughts.
+
+Hopalong caught sight of an Apache who moved cautiously through a
+chaparral lying about nine hundred yards away. As long as the distant
+enemy lay quietly he could not be discerned, but he was not content
+with assured safety and took a chance. Hopalong raised his rifle to
+his shoulder as the Indian fired and the latter's bullet, striking the
+edge of the hole through which Mr. Cassidy peered, kicked up a
+generous handful of dust, some of which found lodgment in that
+individual's eyes.
+
+"Oh! Oh! Oh! Wow!" yelled the unfortunate, dancing blindly around the
+room in rage and pain, and dropping his rifle to grab at his eyes.
+"Oh! Oh! Oh!"
+
+His companion wheeled like a flash and grabbed him as he stumbled
+past. "Are you plugged bad, Hoppy? Where did they get you? Are you hit
+bad?" and Red's heart was in his voice.
+
+"No, I ain't plugged bad!" mimicked Hopalong. "I ain't plugged at
+all!" he blazed, kicking enthusiastically at his solicitous friend.
+"Get me some water, you jackass! Don't stand there like a fool! I
+ain't going to fall down. Don't you know my eyes are full of 'dobe?"
+
+Red, avoiding another kick, hastily complied, and as hastily left Mr.
+Cassidy to wash out the dirt while he returned to his post by the
+window. "Anybody'd think you was full of red-eye, the way you act,"
+muttered Red peevishly.
+
+Hopalong, rubbing his eyes of the dirt, went back to the hole in the
+wall and looked out. "Hey, Red! Come over here an' spill that brave's
+conceit. I can't keep my eyes open long enough to aim, an' it's a nice
+shot, too. It'd serve him right if you got him!"
+
+Mr. Connors obeyed the summons and peered out cautiously. "I can't see
+him, nohow; where is the coyote?"
+
+"Over there in that little chaparral; see him now? /There!/ See him
+moving. Do you mean to tell me--"
+
+"Yep; I see him, all right. You watch," was the reply. "He's just over
+nine hundred--where's yore Sharps?" He took the weapon, glanced at the
+Buffington sight, which he found to be set right, and aimed carefully.
+
+Hopalong blinked through another hole as his friend fired and saw the
+Indian flop down and crawl aimlessly about on hands and knees. "What's
+he doing now, Red?"
+
+"Playing marbles, you chump; an' here goes for his agate," replied the
+man with the Sharps, firing again. "There! Gee!" he exclaimed, as a
+bullet hummed in through the window he had quitted for the moment, and
+thudded into the wall, making the dry adobe fly. It had missed him by
+only a few inches and he now crept along the floor to the rear of the
+room and shoved his rifle out among the branches of a stunted mesquite
+which grew before a fissure in the wall. "You keep away from that
+windy for a minute, Hoppy," he warned as he waited.
+
+A terror-stricken lizard flashed out of the fissure and along the wall
+where the roof had fallen in and flitted into a hole, while a fly
+buzzed loudly and hovered persistently around Red's head, to the rage
+of that individual. "Ah, ha!" he grunted, lowering the rifle and
+peering through the smoke. A yell reached his ears and he forthwith
+returned to his window, whistling softly.
+
+Evidently Mr. Cassidy's eyes were better and his temper sweeter, for
+he hummed "Dixie" and then jumped to "Yankee Doodle," mixing the two
+airs with careless impartiality, which was a sign that he was thinking
+deeply. "Wonder what ever became of Powers, Red. Peculiar feller, he
+was."
+
+"In jail, I reckon, if drink hasn't killed him."
+
+"Yes; I reckon so," and Mr. Cassidy continued his medley, which
+prompted his friend quickly to announce his unqualified disapproval.
+
+"You can make more of a mess of them two songs than anybody I ever
+heard murder 'em! /Shut up!/"--and the concert stopped, the vocalist
+venting his feelings at an Indian, and killing the horse instead.
+
+"Did you get him?" queried Red.
+
+"Nope; but I got his cayuse," Hopalong replied, shoving a fresh
+cartridge into the foul, greasy breech of the Sharps. "An' here's
+where I get him--got to square up for my eyes some way," he muttered,
+firing. "Missed! Now what do you think of that!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Better take my Winchester," suggested Red, in a matter-of-fact way,
+but he chuckled softly and listened for the reply.
+
+"Aw, you go to the devil!" snapped Mr. Cassidy, firing again. "Whoop!
+Got him that time!"
+
+"Where?" asked his companion, with strong suspicion.
+
+"None of yore business!"
+
+"Aw, darn it! Who spilled the water?" yelled Red, staring blankly at
+the overturned canteen.
+
+"Pshaw! Reckon I did, Red," apologized his friend ruefully. "Now of
+all the cussed luck!"
+
+"Oh, well; we've got another, an' you had to wash out yore eyes. Lucky
+we each had one--/Holy smoke!/ It's most all gone! The top is loose!"
+
+Heartfelt profanity filled the room and the two disgusted punchers
+went sullenly back to their posts. It was a calamity of no small
+magnitude, for, while food could be dispensed with for a long time if
+necessary, going without water was another question. It was as
+necessary as cartridges.
+
+Then Hopalong laughed at the ludicrous side of the whole affair,
+thereby revealing one of the characteristics which endeared him to his
+friends. No matter how desperate a situation might be, he could always
+find in it something at which to laugh. He laughed going into danger
+and coming out of it, with a joke or a pleasantry always trembling on
+the end of his tongue.
+
+"Red, did it ever strike you how cussed thirsty a feller gets just as
+soon as he knows he can't have no drink? But it don't make much
+difference, nohow. We'll get out of this little scrape just as we've
+allus got out of trouble. There's some mad war-whoops outside that are
+worse off than we are, because they are at the wrong end of yore gun.
+I feel sort of sorry for 'em."
+
+"Yo're shore a happy idiot," grinned Red. "Hey! Listen!"
+
+Galloping was heard and Hopalong, running to the door, looked out
+through a crack as sudden firing broke out around the rear of the
+shack, and fell to pulling away the props, crying, "It's a puncher,
+Red; he's riding this way! Come on an' help him in!"
+
+"He's a blamed fool to ride this way! I'm with you!" replied Red,
+running to his side.
+
+Half a mile from the house, coming across the open space as fast as he
+could urge his horse, rode a cowboy, and not far behind him raced
+about a dozen Apaches, yelling and firing.
+
+Red picked up his companion's rifle, and steadying it against the jamb
+of the door, fired, dropping one of the foremost of the pursuers.
+Quickly reloading again, he fired and missed. The third shot struck
+another horse, and then taking up his own gun he began to fire
+rapidly, as rapidly as he could work the lever and yet make his shots
+tell. Hopalong drew his Colt and ran back to watch the rear of the
+house, and it was well that he did so, for an Apache in that
+direction, believing that the trapped punchers were so busily engaged
+with the new developments as to forget for the moment, sprinted
+towards the back window; and he had gotten within twenty paces of the
+goal when Hopalong's Colt cracked a protest. Seeing that the warrior
+was no longer a combatant, Mr. Cassidy ran back to the door just as
+the stranger fell from his horse and crawled past Red. The door
+slammed shut, the props fell against it, and the two friends turned to
+the work of driving back the second band, which, however, had given up
+all hope of rushing the house in the face of Red's telling fire, and
+had sought cover instead.
+
+The stranger dragged himself to the canteens and drank what little
+water remained, and then turned to watch the two men moving from place
+to place, firing coolly and methodically. He thought he recognized one
+of them from the descriptions he had heard, but he was not sure.
+
+"My name's Holden," he whispered hoarsely, but the cracking of the
+rifles drowned his voice. During a lull he tried again. "My name's
+Holden," he repeated weakly. "I'm from the Cross-O-Cross, an' can't
+get back there again."
+
+"Mine's Cassidy, an' that's Connors, of the Bar-20. Are you hurt very
+bad?"
+
+"No; not very bad," lied Holden, trying to smile. "Gee, but I'm glad I
+fell in with you two fellers," he exclaimed. He was but little more
+than a boy, and to him Hopalong Cassidy and Red Connors were names
+with which to conjure. "But I'm plumb sorry I went an' brought you
+more trouble," he added regretfully.
+
+"Oh, pshaw! We had it before you came--you needn't do no worrying
+about that, Holden; besides, I reckon you couldn't help it," Hopalong
+grinned facetiously. "But tell us how you came to mix up with that
+bunch," he continued.
+
+Holden shuddered and hesitated a moment, his companions alertly
+shifting from crack to crack, window to window, their rifles cracking
+at intervals. They appeared to him to act as if they had done nothing
+else all their lives but fight Indians from that shack, and he braced
+up a little at their example of coolness.
+
+"It's an awful story, awful!" he began. "I was riding towards Hoyt's
+Corners an' when I got about half way there I topped a rise an' saw a
+nester's house about half a mile away. It wasn't there the last time I
+rode that way, an' it looked so peaceful an' home-like that I stopped
+an' looked at it a few minutes. I was just going to start again when
+that war-party rode out of a barranca close to the house an' went
+straight for it at top speed. It seemed like a dream, 'cause I thought
+Apaches never got so far east. They don't, do they? I thought not--
+these must 'a' got turned out of their way an' had to hustle for
+safety. Well, it was all over purty quick. I saw 'em drag out two
+women an'--an'--purty soon a man. He was fighting like fury, but he
+didn't last long. Then they set fire to the house an' threw the man's
+body up on the roof. I couldn't seem to move till the flames shot up,
+but then I must 'a' went sort of loco, because I emptied my gun at
+'em, which was plumb foolish at that distance, for me. The next thing
+I knowed was that half of 'em was coming my way as hard as they could
+ride, an' I lit out instanter; an' here I am. I can't get that sight
+outen my head nohow--it'll drive me loco!" he screamed, sobbing like a
+child from the horror of it all.
+
+His auditors still moved around the room, growing more and more
+vindictive all the while and more zealously endeavoring to create a
+still greater deficit in one Apache war-party. They knew what he had
+looked upon, for they themselves had become familiar with the work of
+Apaches in Arizona. They could picture it vividly in all its devilish
+horror. Neither of them paid any apparent attention to their
+companion, for they could not spare the time, and, also, they believed
+it best to let him fight out his own battles unassisted.
+
+Holden sobbed and muttered as the minutes dragged along, at times
+acting so strangely as to draw a covert side-glance from one or both
+of the Bar-20 punchers. Then Mr. Connors saw his boon companion
+suddenly lean out of a window and immediately become the target for
+the hard-working enemy. He swore angrily at the criminal recklessness
+of it. "Hey, you! Come in out of that! Ain't you got no brains at all,
+you blasted idiot! Don't you know that we need every gun?"
+
+"Yes; that's right. I sort of forgot," grinned the reckless one,
+obeying with alacrity and looking sheepish. "But you know there's two
+thundering big tarantulas out there fighting like blazes. You ought to
+see 'em jump! It's a sort of a leap-frog fight, Red."
+
+"Fool!" snorted Mr. Connors belligerently. "/You'd/ 'a' jumped if one
+of them slugs had 'a' got you! Yo're the damnedest fool that ever
+walked on two laigs, you blasted sage-hen!" Mr. Connors was beginning
+to lose his temper and talk in his throat.
+
+"Well, they didn't get me, did they? What you yelling about, anyhow?"
+growled Hopalong, trying to brazen it out.
+
+"An' /you/ talking about suicide to me!" snapped Mr. Connors,
+determined to rub it in and have the last word.
+
+Mr. Holden stared, open-mouthed, at the man who could enjoy a
+miserable spider fight under such distressing circumstances, and his
+shaken nerves became steadier as he gave thought to the fact that he
+was a companion of the two men about whose exploits he had heard so
+much. Evidently the stories had not been exaggerated. What must they
+think of him for giving way as he had? He rose to his feet in time to
+see a horse blunder into the open on Red's side of the house, and
+after it blundered its owner, who immediately lost all need of earthly
+conveyances. Holden laughed from the joy of being with a man who could
+shoot like that, and he took up his rifle and turned to a crack in the
+wall, filled with the determination to let his companions know that he
+was built of the right kind of timber after all, wounded as he was.
+
+Red's only comment, as he pumped a fresh cartridge into the barrel,
+was, "He must 'a' thought he saw a spider fight, too."
+
+"Hey, Red," called Hopalong. "The big one is dead."
+
+"What big one?"
+
+"Why, don't you remember? That big tarantula I was watching. One was
+bigger than the other, but the little feller shore waded into him
+an'--"
+
+"Go to the devil!" shouted Red, who had to grin, despite his anger.
+
+"Presently, presently," replied Hopalong, laughing.
+
+So the day passed, and when darkness came upon them all of the
+defenders were wounded, Holden desperately so.
+
+"Red, one of us has got to try to make the ranch," Hopalong suddenly
+announced, and his friend knew he was right. Since Holden had appeared
+upon the scene they had known that they could not try a dash; one of
+them had to stay.
+
+"We'll toss for it; heads, I go," Red suggested, flipping a coin.
+
+"Tails!" cried Hopalong. "It's only thirty miles to Buckskin, an' if I
+can get away from here I'm good to make it by eleven to-night. I'll
+stop at Cowan's an' have him send word to Lucas an' Bartlett, so
+there'll be enough in case any of our boys are out on the range in
+some line house. We can pick 'em up on the way back, so there won't be
+no time lost. If I get through you can expect excitement on the
+outside of this sieve by daylight. You an' Holden can hold her till
+then, because they never attack at night. It's the only way out of
+this for us--we ain't got cartridges or water enough to last another
+day."
+
+Red, knowing that Hopalong was taking a desperate chance in working
+through the cordon of Indians which surrounded them, and that the
+house was safe when compared to running such a gantlet, offered to go
+through the danger line with him. For several minutes a wordy war
+raged and finally Red accepted a compromise; he was to help, but not
+to work through the line.
+
+"But what's the use of all this argument?" feebly demanded Holden.
+"Why don't you both go? I ain't a-going to live nohow, so there ain't
+no use of anybody staying here with me, to die with me. Put a bullet
+through me so them devils can't play with me like they do with others,
+an' then get away while you've got a chance. Two men can get through
+as easy as one." He sank back, exhausted by the effort.
+
+"No more of that!" cried Red, trying to be stern. "I'm going to stay
+with you an' see things through. I'd be a fine sort of a coyote to
+sneak off an' leave you for them fiends. An', besides, I can't get
+away; my cayuse is hit too hard an' yourn is dead," he lied
+cheerfully. "An' yo're going to get well, all right. I've seen fellers
+hit harder than you are pull through."
+
+Hopalong walked over to the prostrate man and shook hands with him.
+"I'm awful glad I met you, Holden. Yo're pure grit all the way
+through, an' I like to tie to that kind of a man. Don't you worry
+about nothing; Red can handle this proposition, an' we'll have you in
+Buckskin by to-morrow night; you'll be riding again in two weeks. So
+long."
+
+He turned to Red and shook hands silently, led his horse out of the
+building and mounted, glad that the moon had not yet come up, for in
+the darkness he had a chance.
+
+"Good luck, Hoppy!" cried Red, running to the door. "Good luck!"
+
+"You bet--an' lots of it, too," groaned Holden, but he was gone. Then
+Red wheeled. "Holden, keep yore eyes an' ears open. I'm going out to
+see that he gets off. He may run into a--" and he, too, was gone.
+
+Holden watched the doors and windows, striving to resist the weak,
+giddy feeling in his head, and ten minutes later he heard a shot and
+then several more in quick succession. Shortly afterward Red called
+out, and almost immediately the Bar-20 puncher crawled in through a
+window.
+
+"Well?" anxiously cried the man on the floor. "Did he make it?"
+
+"I reckon so. He got away from the first crowd, anyhow. I wasn't very
+far behind him, an' by the time they woke up to what was going on he
+was through an' riding like blazes. I heard him call 'em half-breeds a
+moment later an' it sounded far off. They hit me,--fired at my flash,
+like I drilled one of them. But it ain't much, anyhow. How are you
+feeling now?"
+
+"Fine!" lied the other. "That Cassidy is shore a wonder--he's all
+right, an' so are you. I'll never see him again, but I shore hope he
+gets through!"
+
+"Don't be foolish. Here, you finish the water in yore canteen--I
+picked it up outside by yore cayuse. Then go to sleep," ordered Red.
+"I'll do all the watching that's necessary."
+
+"I will if you'll call me when you get sleepy."
+
+"Why, shore I will. But don't you want the rest of the water? I ain't
+a bit thirsty--I had all I could hold just before you came," Red
+remarked as his companion pushed the canteen against him in the dark.
+He was choking with thirst. "Well, then; all right," and Red pretended
+to drink. "Now, then, you go to sleep; a good snooze will do you a
+world of good--it's just what you need."
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER X
+
+                          BUCK TAKES A HAND
+
+Cowan's saloon, club, and place of general assembly for the town of
+Buckskin and the nearby ranches, held a merry crowd, for it was pay-
+day on the range and laughter and liquor ran a close race. Buck
+Peters, his hands full of cigars, passed through the happy-go-lucky,
+do-as-you-please crowd and invited everybody to smoke, which nobody
+refused to do. Wood Wright, of the C-80, tuned his fiddle anew and
+swung into a rousing quick-step. Partners were chosen, the "women"
+wearing handkerchiefs on their arms to indicate the fact, and the room
+shook and quivered as the scraping of heavy boots filled the air with
+a cloud of dust. "Allaman left!" cried the prompter, and then the
+dance stopped as if by magic. The door had crashed open and a blood-
+stained man staggered in and towards the bar, crying, "Buck! Red's
+hemmed in by 'Paches!"
+
+"Good God!" roared the foreman of the Bar-20, leaping forward, the
+cigars falling to the floor to be crushed and ground into powder by
+careless feet. He grasped his puncher and steadied him while Cowan
+slid an extra generous glassful of brandy across the bar for the
+wounded man. The room was in an uproar, men grabbing rifles and
+running out to get their horses, for it was plain to be seen that
+there was hard work to be done, and quickly. Questions, threats,
+curses filled the air, those who remained inside to get the story
+listening intently to the jerky narrative; those outside, caring less
+for the facts of an action past than for the action to come, shouted
+impatiently for a start to be made, even threatening to go on and
+tackle the proposition by themselves if there were not more haste.
+Hopalong told in a graphic, terse manner all that was necessary, while
+Buck and Cowan hurriedly bandaged his wounds.
+
+"Come on! Come on!" shouted the mounted crowd outside, angry, and
+impatient for a start, the prancing of horses and the clinking of
+metal adding to the noise. "Get a move on! /Will/ you hurry up!"
+
+"Listen, Hoppy!" pleaded Buck, in a furore. "Shut up, you outside!" he
+yelled. "You say they know that you got away, Hoppy?" he asked. "All
+right--/Lanky!/" he shouted. "/Lanky!/"
+
+"All right, Buck!" and Lanky Smith roughly pushed his way through the
+crowd to his foreman's side. "Here I am."
+
+"Take Skinny and Pete with you, an' a lead horse apiece. Strike
+straight for Powers' old ranch house. Them Injuns'll have pickets out
+looking for Hoppy's friends. You three get the pickets nearest the old
+trail through that arroyo to the southeast, an' then wait for us.
+We'll come along the high bank on the left. Don't make no noise doing
+it, neither, if you can help it. Understand? Good! Now ride like the
+devil!"
+
+Lanky grabbed Pete and Skinny on his way out and disappeared into the
+corral; and very soon thereafter hoof-beats thudded softly in the
+sandy street and pounded into the darkness of the north, soon lost to
+the ear. An uproar of advice and good wishes crashed after them, for
+the game had begun.
+
+"It's Powers' old shack, boys!" shouted a man in the door to the
+restless force outside, which immediately became more restless. "Hey!
+Don't go yet!" he begged. "Wait for me an' the rest. Don't be a lot of
+idiots!"
+
+Excited and impatient voices replied from the darkness, vexed,
+grouchy, and querulous. "Then get a move on--/whoa!/--it'll be light
+before we get there if you don't hustle!" roared one voice above the
+confusion. "You know what /that/ means!"
+
+"Come on! Come on! For God's sake, are you tied to the bar?"
+
+"Yo're a lot of old grandmothers! Come on!"
+
+Hopalong appeared in the door. "I'll show you the way, boys!" he
+shouted. "Cowan, put my saddle on yore cayuse--/pronto/!"
+
+"Good for you, Hoppy!" came from the street. "We'll wait!"
+
+"You stay here; yo're hurt too much!" cried Buck to his puncher, as he
+grabbed up a box of cartridges from a shelf behind the bar. "Ain't you
+got no sense? There's enough of us to take care of this without you!"
+
+Hopalong wheeled and looked his foreman squarely in the eyes. "Red's
+out there, waiting for me--I'm going! I'd be a fine sort of a coyote
+to leave him in that hell hole an' not go back, wouldn't I!" he said,
+with quiet determination.
+
+"Good for you, Cassidy!" cried a man who hastened out to mount.
+
+"Well, then, come on," replied Buck. "There's blamed few like you," he
+muttered, following Hopalong outside.
+
+"Here's the cayuse, Cassidy," cried Cowan, turning the animal over to
+him. "/Wait/, Buck!" and he leaped into the building and ran out
+again, shoving a bottle of brandy and a package of food into the
+impatient foreman's hand. "Mebby Red or Hoppy'll need it--so long, an'
+good luck!" and he was alone in a choking cloud of dust, peering
+through the darkness along the river trail after a black mass that was
+swallowed up almost instantly. Then, as he watched, the moon pushed
+its rim up over the hills and he laughed joyously as he realized what
+its light would mean to the crowd. "There'll be great doings when
+/that/ gang cuts loose," he muttered with savage elation. "Wish I was
+with 'em. Damn Injuns, anyhow!"
+
+Far ahead of the main fighting force rode the three special-duty men,
+reeling off the miles at top speed and constantly distancing their
+friends, for they changed mounts at need, thanks to the lead horses
+provided by Mr. Peters' cool-headed foresight. It was a race against
+dawn, and every effort was made to win--the life of Red Connors hung
+in the balance and a minute might turn the scale.
+
+
+
+In Powers' old ranch house the night dragged along slowly to the grim
+watcher, and the man huddled in the corner stirred uneasily and
+babbled, ofttimes crying out in horror at the vivid dreams of his
+disordered mind. Pacing ceaselessly from window to window, crack to
+crack, when the moon came up, Mr. Connors scanned the bare, level
+plain with anxious eyes, searching out the few covers and looking for
+dark spots on the dull gray sand. They never attacked at night, but
+still--. Through the void came the quavering call of a coyote, and he
+listened for the reply, which soon came from the black chaparral
+across the clearing. He knew where two of them were hiding, anyhow.
+Holden was muttering and tried to answer the calls, and Red looked at
+him for the hundredth time that night. He glanced out of the window
+again and noticed that there was a glow in the eastern sky, and
+shortly afterwards dawn swiftly developed.
+
+Pouring the last few drops of the precious water between the wounded
+man's parched and swollen lips, he tossed the empty canteen from him
+and stood erect.
+
+"Pore devil," he muttered, shaking his head sorrowfully, as he
+realized that Holden's delirium was getting worse all the time. "If
+you was all right we could give them wolves hell to dance to. Well,
+you won't know nothing about it if we go under, an' that's some
+consolation." He examined his rifle and saw that the Colt at his thigh
+was fully loaded and in good working order. "An' they'll pay us for
+their victory, by God! They'll pay for it!" He stepped closer to the
+window, throwing the rifle into the hollow of his arm. "It's about
+time for the rush; about time for the game--"
+
+There was movement by that small chaparral to the south! To the east
+something stirred into bounding life and action; a coyote called twice
+--and then they came, on foot and silently as fleeting shadows,
+leaning forward to bring into play every ounce of energy in the slim,
+red legs. Smoke filled the room with its acrid sting. The crashing of
+the Winchester, worked with wonderful speed and deadly accuracy by the
+best rifle shot in the Southwest, brought the prostrate man to his
+feet in an instinctive response to the call to action, the necessity
+of defence. He grasped his Colt and stumbled blindly to a window to
+help the man who had stayed with him.
+
+On Red's side of the house one warrior threw up his arms and fell
+forward, sprawling with arms and legs extended; another pitched to one
+side and rolled over twice before he lay still; the legs of the third
+collapsed and threw him headlong, bunched up in a grotesque pile of
+lifeless flesh; the fourth leaped high into the air and turned a
+somersault before he struck the sand, badly wounded, and out of the
+fight. Holden, steadying himself against the wall, leaned in a window
+on the other side of the shack and emptied his Colt in a dazed manner
+--doing his very best. Then the man with the rifle staggered back with
+a muttered curse, his right arm useless, and dropped the weapon to
+draw his Colt with the other hand.
+
+Holden shrieked once and sank down, wagging his head slowly from side
+to side, blood oozing from his mouth and nostrils; and his companion,
+goaded into a frenzy of blood-lust and insane rage at the sight, threw
+himself against the door and out into the open, to die under the clear
+sky, to go like the man he was if he must die. "Damn you! It'll cost
+you more yet!" he screamed, wheeling to place his back against the
+wall.
+
+The triumphant yells of the exultant savages were cut short and turned
+to howls of dismay by a fusillade which thundered from the south where
+a crowd of hard-riding, hard-shooting cow-punchers tore out of the
+thicket like an avalanche and swept over the open sand, yelling and
+cursing, and then separated to go in hot pursuit of the sprinting
+Apaches. Some stood up in their stirrups and fired down at a slant,
+making a short, chopping motion with their heavy Colts; others leaned
+forward, far over the necks of their horses, and shot with stationary
+guns; while yet others, with reins dangling free, worked the levers of
+blue Winchesters so rapidly that the flashes seemed to merge into a
+continuous flame.
+
+"Thank God! Thank God--an' Hoppy!" groaned the man at the door of the
+shack, staggering forward to meet the two men who had lost no time in
+pursuit of the enemy, but had ridden straight to him.
+
+"I was scared stiff you was done fer!" cried Hopalong, leaping off his
+horse and shaking hands with his friend, whose hand-clasp was not as
+strong as usual. "How's Holden?" he demanded, anxiously.
+
+"He passed. It was a close--" began Red, weakly, but his foreman
+interposed.
+
+"Shut up, an' drink this!" ordered Buck, kindly but sternly. "We'll do
+the talking for a while; you can tell us all about it later on. Why,
+/hullo/!" he cried as Lanky Smith and his two happy companions rode
+up. "Reckon you must 'a' got them pickets."
+
+"Shore we did! Stalked 'em on our bellies, didn't we, Skinny?"
+modestly replied Mr. Smith, the roping expert of the Bar-20. "Ropes
+an' clubbed guns did the rest. Anyhow, there was only two anywhere
+near the trail."
+
+"We didn't see you," responded the foreman, tying the knot of a
+bandage on Mr. Connors' arm. "An' we looked sharp, too."
+
+"Reckon we was hunting for more; we sort of forgot what you said about
+waiting for you," Mr. Smith replied, grinning broadly.
+
+"An' you've got a good memory now," smiled Mr. Peters.
+
+"We didn't find no more, though," offered Mr. Pete Wilson, with grave
+regret. "An' we looked good, too. But we got Red, an' that's the whole
+game. Red, you old son-of-a-gun, you can lick yore weight in powder!"
+
+"It's too bad about Holden," muttered Red, sullenly.
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XI
+
+                       HOPALONG NURSES A GROUCH
+
+After the excitement incident to the affair at Powers' shack had died
+down and the Bar-20 outfit worked over its range in the old, placid
+way, there began to be heard low mutterings, and an air of peevish
+discontent began to be manifested in various childish ways. And it was
+all caused by the fact that Hopalong Cassidy had a grouch, and a big
+one. It was two months old and growing worse daily, and the signs
+threatened contagion. His foreman, tired and sick of the snarling,
+fidgety, petulant atmosphere that Hopalong had created on the ranch,
+and driven to desperation, eagerly sought some chance to get rid of
+the "sore-thumb" temporarily and give him an opportunity to shed his
+generous mantle of the blues. And at last it came.
+
+No one knew the cause for Hoppy's unusual state of mind, although
+there were many conjectures, and they covered the field rather
+thoroughly; but they did not strike on the cause. Even Red Connors,
+now well over all ill effects of the wounds acquired in the old ranch
+house, was forced to guess; and when Red had to do that about anything
+concerning Hopalong he was well warranted in believing the matter to
+be very serious.
+
+Johnny Nelson made no secret of his opinion and derived from it a
+great amount of satisfaction, which he admitted with a grin to his
+foreman.
+
+"Buck," he said, "Hoppy told me he went broke playing poker over in
+Grant with Dave Wilkes and them two Lawrence boys, an' that shore
+explains it all. He's got pack sores from carrying his unholy licking.
+It was due to come for him, an' Dave Wilkes is just the boy to deliver
+it. That's the whole trouble, an' I know it, an' I'm damned glad they
+trimmed him. But he ain't got no right of making /us/ miserable
+because he lost a few measly dollars."
+
+"Yo're wrong, son; dead, dead wrong," Buck replied. "He takes his
+beatings with a grin, an' money never did bother him. No poker game
+that ever was played could leave a welt on him like the one we all
+mourn, an' cuss. He's been doing something that he don't want us to
+know--made a fool of hisself some way, most likely, an' feels so
+ashamed that he's sore. I've knowed him too long an' well to believe
+that gambling had anything to do with it. But this little trip he's
+taking will fix him up all right, an' I couldn't 'a' picked a better
+man--or one that I'd rather get rid of just now."
+
+"Well, lemme tell you it's blamed lucky for him that you picked him to
+go," rejoined Johnny, who thought more of the woeful absentee than he
+did of his own skin. "I was going to lick him, shore, if it went on
+much longer. Me an' Red an' Billy was going to beat him up good till
+he forgot his dead injuries an' took more interest in his friends."
+
+Buck laughed heartily. "Well, the three of you might 'a' done it if
+you worked hard an' didn't get careless, but I have my doubts. Now
+look here--you've been hanging around the bunk house too blamed much
+lately. Henceforth an' hereafter you've got to earn your grub. Get out
+on that west line an' hustle."
+
+"You know I've had a toothache!" snorted Johnny with a show of
+indignation, his face as sober as that of a judge.
+
+"An' you'll have a stomach ache from lack of grub if you don't earn
+yore right to eat purty soon," retorted Buck. "You ain't had a
+toothache in yore whole life, an' you don't know what one is. G'wan,
+now, or I'll give you a backache that'll ache!"
+
+"Huh! Devil of a way to treat a sick man!" Johnny retorted, but he
+departed exultantly, whistling with much noise and no music. But he
+was sorry for one thing: he sincerely regretted that he had not been
+present when Hopalong met his Waterloo. It would have been pleasing to
+look upon.
+
+While the outfit blessed the proposed lease of range that took him out
+of their small circle for a time, Hopalong rode farther and farther
+into the northwest, frequently lost in abstraction which, judging by
+its effect upon him, must have been caused by something serious. He
+had not heard from Dave Wilkes about that individual's good horse
+which had been loaned to Ben Ferris, of Winchester. Did Dave think he
+had been killed or was still pursuing the man whose neck-kerchief had
+aroused such animosity in Hopalong's heart? Or had the horse actually
+been returned? The animal was a good one, a successful contender in
+all distances from one to five miles, and had earned its owner and
+backers much money--and Hopalong had parted with it as easily as he
+would have borrowed five dollars from Red. The story, as he had often
+reflected since, was as old as lying--a broken-legged horse, a wife
+dying forty miles away, and a horse all saddled which needed only to
+be mounted and ridden.
+
+These thoughts kept him company for a day and when he dismounted
+before Stevenson's "Hotel" in Hoyt's Corners he summed up his feelings
+for the enlightenment of his horse.
+
+"Damn it, bronc! I'd give ten dollars right now to know if I was a
+jackass or not," he growled. "But he was an awful slick talker if he
+lied. An' I've got to go up an' face Dave Wilkes to find out about
+it!"
+
+Mr. Cassidy was not known by sight to the citizens of Hoyt's Corners,
+however well versed they might be in his numerous exploits of wisdom
+and folly. Therefore the habitues of Stevenson's Hotel did not
+recognize him in the gloomy and morose individual who dropped his
+saddle on the floor with a crash and stamped over to the three-legged
+table at dusk and surlily demanded shelter for the night.
+
+"Gimme a bed an' something to eat," he demanded, eyeing the three men
+seated with their chairs tilted against the wall. "Do I get 'em?" he
+asked, impatiently.
+
+"You do," replied a one-eyed man, lazily arising and approaching him.
+"One dollar, now."
+
+"An' take the rocks outen that bed--I want to sleep."
+
+"A dollar per for every rock you find," grinned Stevenson, pleasantly.
+"There ain't no rocks in /my/ beds," he added.
+
+"Some folks likes to be rocked to sleep," facetiously remarked one of
+the pair by the wall, laughing contentedly at his own pun. He bore all
+the ear-marks of being regarded as the wit of the locality--every
+hamlet has one; I have seen some myself.
+
+"Hee, hee, hee! Yo're a droll feller, Charley," chuckled Old John
+Ferris, rubbing his ear with unconcealed delight. "That's a good un."
+
+"One drink, now," growled Hopalong, mimicking the proprietor, and
+glaring savagely at the "droll feller" and his companion. "An' mind
+that it's a good one," he admonished the host.
+
+"It's better," smiled Stevenson, whereat Old John crossed his legs and
+chuckled again. Stevenson winked.
+
+"Riding long?" he asked.
+
+"Since I started."
+
+"Going fur?"
+
+"Till I stop."
+
+"Where do you belong?" Stevenson's pique was urging him against the
+ethics of the range, which forbade personal questions.
+
+Hopalong looked at him with a light in his eye that told the host he
+had gone too far. "Under my sombrero!" he snapped.
+
+"Hee, hee, hee!" chortled Old John, rubbing his ear again and nudging
+Charley. "He ain't no fool, hey?"
+
+"Why, I don't know, John; he won't tell," replied Charley.
+
+Hopalong wheeled and glared at him, and Charley, smiling uneasily,
+made an appeal: "Ain't mad, are you?"
+
+"Not yet," and Hopalong turned to the bar again, took up his liquor
+and tossed it off. Considering a moment he shoved the glass back
+again, while Old John tongued his lips in anticipation of a treat. "It
+is good--fill it again."
+
+The third was even better and by the time the fourth and fifth had
+joined their predecessors Hopalong began to feel a little more
+cheerful. But even the liquor and an exceptionally well-cooked supper
+could not separate him from his persistent and set grouch. And of
+liquor he had already taken more than his limit. He had always
+boasted, with truth, that he had never been drunk, although there had
+been two occasions when he was not far from it. That was one doubtful
+luxury which he could not afford for the reason that there were men
+who would have been glad to see him, if only for a few seconds, when
+liquor had dulled his brain and slowed his speed of hand. He could
+never tell when and where he might meet one of these.
+
+He dropped into a chair by a card table and, baffling all attempts to
+engage him in conversation, reviewed his troubles in a mumbled
+soliloquy, the liquor gradually making him careless. But of all the
+jumbled words his companions' diligent ears heard they recognized and
+retained only the bare term "Winchester"; and their conjectures were
+limited only by their imaginations.
+
+Hopalong stirred and looked up, shaking off the hand which had aroused
+him. "Better go to bed, stranger," the proprietor was saying. "You an'
+me are the last two up. It's after twelve, an' you look tired and
+sleepy."
+
+"Said his wife was sick," muttered the puncher. "Oh, what you saying?"
+
+"You'll find a bed better'n this table, stranger--it's after twelve
+an' I want to close up an' get some sleep. I'm tired myself."
+
+"Oh, that all? Shore I'll go to bed--like to see anybody stop me!
+Ain't no rocks in it, hey?"
+
+"Nary a rock," laughingly reassured the host, picking up Hopalong's
+saddle and leading the way to a small room off the "office," his guest
+stumbling after him and growling about the rocks that lived in
+Winchester. When Stevenson had dropped the saddle by the window and
+departed, Hopalong sat on the edge of the bed to close his eyes for
+just a moment before tackling the labor of removing his clothes. A
+crash and a jar awakened him and he found himself on the floor with
+his back to the bed. He was hot and his head ached, and his back was
+skinned a little--and how hot and stuffy and choking the room had
+become! He thought he had blown out the light, but it still burned,
+and three-quarters of the chimney was thickly covered with soot. He
+was stifling and could not endure it any longer. After three attempts
+he put out the light, stumbled against his saddle and, opening the
+window, leaned out to breathe the pure air. As his lungs filled he
+chuckled wisely and, picking up the saddle, managed to get it and
+himself through the window and on the ground without serious mishap.
+He would ride for an hour, give the room time to freshen and cool off,
+and come back feeling much better. Not a star could be seen as he
+groped his way unsteadily towards the rear of the building, where he
+vaguely remembered having seen the corral as he rode up.
+
+"Huh! Said he lived in Winchester an' his name was Bill--no, Ben
+Ferris," he muttered, stumbling towards a noise he knew was made by a
+horse rubbing against the corral fence. Then his feet got tangled up
+in the cinch of his saddle, which he had kicked before him, and after
+great labor he arose, muttering savagely, and continued on his wobbly
+way. "Goo' Lord, it's darker'n cats in--/oof/!" he grunted, recoiling
+from forcible contact with the fence he sought. Growling words unholy
+he felt his way along it and finally his arm slipped through an
+opening and he bumped his head solidly against the top bar of the
+gate. As he righted himself his hand struck the nose of a horse and
+closed mechanically over it. Cow-ponies look alike in the dark and he
+grinned jubilantly as he complimented himself upon finding his own so
+unerringly.
+
+"Anything is easy, when you know how. Can't fool me, ol' cayuse," he
+beamed, fumbling at the bars with his free hand and getting them down
+with a fool's luck. "You can't do it--I got you firs', las', an'
+always; an' I got you good. Yessir, I got you good. Quit that rearing,
+you ol' fool! Stan' still, can't you?" The pony sidled as the saddle
+hit its back and evoked profane abuse from the indignant puncher as he
+risked his balance in picking it up to try again, this time
+successfully. He began to fasten the girth, and then paused in wonder
+and thought deeply, for the pin in the buckle would slide to no hole
+but the first. "Huh! Getting fat, ain't you, piebald?" he demanded
+with withering sarcasm. "You blow yoreself up any more'n I'll bust you
+wide open!" heaving up with all his might on the free end of the
+strap, one knee pushing against the animal's side. The "fat"
+disappeared and Hopalong laughed. "Been learnin' new tricks, ain't
+you? Got smart since you been travellin', hey?" He fumbled with the
+bars again and got two of them back in place and then, throwing
+himself across the saddle as the horse started forward as hard as it
+could go, slipped off, but managed to save himself by hopping along
+the ground. As soon as he had secured the grip he wished he mounted
+with the ease of habit and felt for the reins. "G'wan now, an' easy--
+it's plumb dark an' my head's bustin'."
+
+When he saddled his mount at the corral he was not aware that two of
+the three remaining horses had taken advantage of their opportunity
+and had walked out and made off in the darkness before he replaced the
+bars, and he was too drunk to care if he had known it.
+
+The night air felt so good that it moved him to song, but it was not
+long before the words faltered more and more and soon ceased
+altogether and a subdued snore rasped from him. He awakened from time
+to time, but only for a moment, for he was tired and sleepy.
+
+His mount very quickly learned that something was wrong and that it
+was being given its head. As long as it could go where it pleased it
+could do nothing better than head for home, and it quickened its pace
+towards Winchester. Some time after daylight it pricked up its ears
+and broke into a canter, which soon developed signs of irritation in
+its rider. Finally Hopalong opened his heavy eyes and looked around
+for his bearings. Not knowing where he was and too tired and miserable
+to give much thought to a matter of such slight importance, he glanced
+around for a place to finish his sleep. A tree some distance ahead of
+him looked inviting and towards it he rode. Habit made him picket the
+horse before he lay down and as he fell asleep he had vague
+recollections of handling a strange picket rope some time recently.
+The horse slowly turned and stared at the already snoring figure,
+glanced over the landscape, back the to queerest man it had ever met,
+and then fell to grazing in quiet content. A slinking coyote topped a
+rise a short distance away and stopped instantly, regarding the
+sleeping man with grave curiosity and strong suspicion. Deciding that
+there was nothing good to eat in that vicinity and that the man was
+carrying out a fell plot for the death of coyotes, it backed away out
+of sight and loped on to other hunting grounds.
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XII
+
+                           A FRIEND IN NEED
+
+Stevenson, having started the fire for breakfast, took a pail and
+departed towards the spring; but he got no farther than the corral
+gate, where he dropped the pail and stared. There was only one horse
+in the enclosure where the night before there had been four. He wasted
+no time in surmises, but wheeled and dashed back towards the hotel,
+and his vigorous shouts brought Old John to the door, sleepy and
+peevish. Old John's mouth dropped open as he beheld his habitually
+indolent host marking off long distances on the sand with each falling
+foot.
+
+"What's got inter you?" demanded Old John.
+
+"Our broncs are gone! Our broncs are gone!" yelled Stevenson, shoving
+Old John roughly to one side as he dashed through the doorway and on
+into the room he had assigned to the sullen and bibulous stranger. "I
+knowed it! I knowed it!" he wailed, popping out again as if on
+springs. "He's gone, an' he's took our broncs with him, the measly,
+low-down dog! I knowed he wasn't no good! I could see it in his eye;
+an' he wasn't drunk, not by a darn sight. Go out an' see for yoreself
+if they ain't gone!" he snapped in reply to Old John's look. "Go on
+out, while I throw some cold grub on the table--won't have no time
+this morning to do no cooking. He's got five hours' start on us, an'
+it'll take some right smart riding to get him before dark; but we'll
+do it, an' hang him, too!"
+
+"What's all this here rumpus?" demanded a sleepy voice from upstairs.
+"Who's hanged?" and Charley entered the room, very much interested.
+His interest increased remarkably when the calamity was made known and
+he lost no time in joining Old John in the corral to verify the news.
+
+Old John waved his hands over the scene and carefully explained what
+he had read in the tracks, to his companion's great irritation, for
+Charley's keen eyes and good training had already told him all there
+was to learn; and his reading did not exactly agree with that of his
+companion.
+
+"Charley, he's gone and took our cayuses; an' that's the very way he
+came--'round the corner of the hotel. He got all tangled up an' fell
+over there, an' here he bumped inter the palisade, an' dropped his
+saddle. When he opened the bars he took my roan gelding because it was
+the best an' fastest, an' then he let out the others to mix us up on
+the tracks. See how he went? Had to hop four times on one foot afore
+he could get inter the saddle. An' that proves he was sober, for no
+drunk could hop four times like that without falling down an' being
+drug to death. An' he left his own critter behind because he knowed it
+wasn't no good. It's all as plain as the nose on your face, Charley,"
+and Old John proudly rubbed his ear. "Hee, hee, hee! You can't fool
+Old John, even if he is getting old. No, sir, b' gum."
+
+Charley had just returned from inside the corral, where he had looked
+at the brand on the far side of the one horse left, and he waited
+impatiently for his companion to cease talking. He took quick
+advantage of the first pause Old John made and spoke crisply.
+
+"I don't care what corner he came 'round, or what he bumped inter; an'
+any fool can see that. An' if he left that cayuse behind because he
+thought it wasn't no good, he /was/ drunk. That's a Bar-20 cayuse, an'
+no hoss-thief ever worked for that ranch. He left it behind because he
+stole it; that's why. An' he didn't let them others out because he
+wanted to mix us up, neither. How'd he know if we couldn't tell the
+tracks of our own animals? He did that to make us lose time; that's
+what he did it for. An' he couldn't tell what bronc he took last
+night--it was too dark. He must 'a' struck a match an' seen where that
+Bar-20 cayuse was an' then took the first one nearest that wasn't it.
+An' now you tell me how the devil he knowed yourn was the fastest,
+which it ain't," he finished, sarcastically, gloating over a chance to
+rub it into the man he had always regarded as a windy old nuisance.
+
+"Well, mebby what you said is--"
+
+"Mebby nothing!" snapped Charley. "If he wanted to mix the tracks
+would he 'a' hopped like that so we couldn't help telling what cayuse
+he rode? He knowed we'd pick his trail quick, an' he knowed that every
+minute counted; that's why he hopped--why, yore roan was going like
+the wind afore he got in the saddle. If you don't believe it, look at
+them toe-prints!"
+
+"H'm; reckon yo're right, Charley. My eyes ain't nigh as good as they
+once was. But I heard him say something 'bout Winchester," replied Old
+John, glad to change the subject. "Bet he's going over there, too. He
+won't get through that town on no critter wearing my brand. Everybody
+knows that roan, an'--"
+
+"Quit guessing!" snapped Charley, beginning to lose some of the
+tattered remnant of his respect for old age. "He's a whole lot likely
+to head for a town on a stolen cayuse, now ain't he! But we don't care
+where he's heading; we'll foller the trail."
+
+"Grub pile!" shouted Stevenson, and the two made haste to obey.
+
+"Charley, gimme a chaw of yore tobacker," and Old John, biting off a
+generous chunk, quietly slipped it into his pocket, there to lay until
+after he had eaten his breakfast.
+
+All talk was tabled while the three men gulped down a cold and
+uninviting meal. Ten minutes later they had finished and separated to
+find horses and spread the news; in fifteen more they had them and
+were riding along the plain trail at top speed, with three other men
+close at their heels. Three hundred yards from the corral they pounded
+out of an arroyo, and Charley, who was leading, stood up in his
+stirrups and looked keenly ahead. Another trail joined the one they
+were following and ran with and on top of it. This, he reasoned, had
+been made by one of the strays and would turn away soon. He kept his
+eyes looking well ahead and soon saw that he was right in his surmise,
+and without checking the speed of his horse in the slightest degree he
+went ahead on the trail of the smaller hoof-prints. In a moment Old
+John spurred forward and gained his side and began to argue hot-
+headedly.
+
+"Hey! Charley!" he cried. "Why are you follering this track?" he
+demanded.
+
+"Because it's his; that's why."
+
+"Well, here, wait a minute!" and Old John was getting red from
+excitement. "How do you know it is? Mebby he took the other!"
+
+"He started out on the cayuse that made these little tracks," retorted
+Charley, "an' I don't see no reason to think he swapped animules.
+Don't you know the prints of yore own cayuse?"
+
+"Lawd, no!" answered Old John. "Why, I don't hardly ride the same
+cayuse the second day, straight hand-running. I tell you we ought to
+foller that other trail. He's just cute enough to play some trick on
+us."
+
+"Well, you better do that for us," Charley replied, hoping against
+hope that the old man would chase off on the other and give his
+companions a rest.
+
+"He ain't got sand enough to tackle a thing like that single-handed,"
+laughed Jed White, winking to the others.
+
+Old John wheeled. "Ain't, hey! I am going to do that same thing an'
+prove that you are a pack of fools. I'm too old to be fooled by a
+common trick like that. An' I don't need no help--I'll ketch him all
+by myself, an' hang him, too!" And he wheeled to follow the other
+trail, angry and outraged. "Young fools," he muttered. "Why, I was
+fighting all around these parts afore any of 'em knowed the difference
+between day an' night!"
+
+"Hard-headed old fool," remarked Charley, frowning, as he led the way
+again.
+
+"He's gittin' old an' childish," excused Stevenson. "They say warn't
+nobody in these parts could hold a candle to him in his prime."
+
+
+
+Hopalong muttered and stirred and opened his eyes to gaze blankly into
+those of one of the men who were tugging at his hands, and as he
+stared he started his stupefied brain sluggishly to work in an
+endeavor to explain the unusual experience. There were five men around
+him and the two who hauled at his hands stepped back and kicked him. A
+look of pained indignation slowly spread over his countenance as he
+realized beyond doubt that they were really kicking him, and with
+sturdy vigor. He considered a moment and then decided that such
+treatment was most unwarranted and outrageous and, furthermore, that
+he must defend himself and chastise the perpetrators.
+
+"Hey!" he snorted, "what do you reckon yo're doing, anyhow? If you
+want to do any kicking, why kick each other, an' I'll help you! But
+I'll lick the whole bunch of you if you don't quite mauling me. Ain't
+you got no manners? Don't you know anything? Come 'round waking a
+feller up an' man-handling--"
+
+"Get up!" snapped Stevenson, angrily.
+
+"Why, ain't I seen you before? Somewhere? Sometime?" queried Hopalong,
+his brow wrinkling from intense concentration of thought. "I ain't
+dreaming; I've seen a one-eyed coyote som'ers, lately, ain't I?" he
+appealed, anxiously, to the others.
+
+"Get up!" ordered Charley, shortly.
+
+"An' I've seen you, too. Funny, all right."
+
+"You've seen me, all right," retorted Stevenson. "Get up, damn you!
+Get up!"
+
+"Why, I can't--my han's are tied!" exclaimed Hopalong in great wonder,
+pausing in his exertions to cogitate deeply upon this most remarkable
+phenomenon. "Tied up! Now what the devil do you think--"
+
+"Use yore feet, you thief!" rejoined Stevenson roughly, stepping
+forward and delivering another kick. "Use yore feet!" he reiterated.
+
+"Thief! Me a thief! Shore I'll use my feet, you yaller dog!" yelled
+the prostrate man, and his boot heel sank into the stomach of the
+offending Mr. Stevenson with sickening force and laudable precision.
+He drew it back slowly, as if debating shoving it farther. "Call me a
+thief, hey! Come poking 'round kicking honest punchers an' calling 'em
+names! Anybody want the other boot?" he inquired with grave
+solicitation.
+
+Stevenson sat down forcibly and rocked to and fro, doubled up and
+gasping for breath, and Hopalong squinted at him and grinned with
+happiness. "Hear him sing! Reg'lar ol' brass band. Sounds like a cow
+pulling its hoofs outen the mud. Called me a thief, he did, just now.
+An' I won't let nobody kick me an' call me names. He's a liar, just a
+plain, squaw's dog liar, he--"
+
+Two men grabbed him and raised him up, holding him tightly, and they
+were not over careful to handle him gently, which he naturally
+resented. Charley stepped in front of him to go to the aid of
+Stevenson and caught the other boot in his groin, dropping as if he
+had been shot. The man on the prisoner's left emitted a yell and
+loosed his hold to sympathize with a bruised shinbone, and his
+companion promptly knocked the bound and still intoxicated man down.
+Bill Thomas swore and eyed the prostrate figure with resentment and
+regret. "Hate to hit a man who can fight like that when he's loaded
+an' tied. I'm glad, all the same, that he ain't sober an' loose."
+
+"An' you ain't going to hit him no more!" snapped Jed White, reddening
+with anger. "I'm ready to hang him, 'cause that's what he deserves,
+an' what we're here for, but I'm damned if I'll stand for any more
+mauling. I don't blame him for fighting, an' they didn't have no right
+to kick him in the beginning."
+
+"Didn't kick him in the beginning," grinned Bill. "Kicked him in the
+ending. Anyhow," he continued seriously, "I didn't hit him hard--
+didn't have to. Just let him go an' shoved him quick."
+
+"I'm just naturally going to clean house," muttered the prisoner,
+sitting up and glaring around. "Untie my han's an' gimme a gun or a
+club or anything, an' watch yoreselves get licked. Called me a thief!
+What are you fellers, then?--sticking me up an' busting me for a few
+measly dollars. Why didn't you take my money an' lemme sleep, 'stead
+of waking me up an' kicking me? I wouldn't 'a' cared then."
+
+"Come on, now; get up. We ain't through with you yet, not by a whole
+lot," growled Bill, helping him to his feet and steadying him. "I'm
+plumb glad you kicked 'em; it was coming to 'em."
+
+"No, you ain't; you can't fool me," gravely assured Hopalong. "Yo're
+lying, an' you know it. What you going to do now? Ain't I got money
+enough? Wish I had an even break with you fellers! Wish my outfit was
+here!"
+
+Stevenson, on his feet again, walked painfully up and shook his fist
+at the captive, from the side. "You'll find out what we want of you,
+you damned hoss-thief!" he cried. "We're going to tie you to that
+there limb so yore feet'll swing above the grass, that's what we're
+going to do."
+
+Bill and Jed had their hands full for a moment and as they finally
+mastered the puncher, Charley came up with a rope. "Hurry up--no use
+dragging it out this way. I want to get back to the ranch some time
+before next week."
+
+"Why /I/ ain't no hoss-thief, you liar!" Hopalong yelled. "My name's
+Hopalong Cassidy of the Bar-20, an' when I tell my friends about what
+you've gone an' done they'll make you hard to find! You gimme any kind
+of a chance an' I'll do it all by myself, sick as I am, you yaller
+dogs!"
+
+"Is that yore cayuse?" demanded Charley, pointing.
+
+Hopalong squinted towards the animal indicated. "Which one?"
+
+"There's only one there, you fool!"
+
+"That so?" replied Hopalong, surprised. "Well, I never seen it afore.
+My cayuse is--is--where the devil /is/ it?" he asked, looking around
+anxiously.
+
+"How'd you get that one, then, if it ain't yours?"
+
+"Never had it--'t ain't mine, nohow," replied Hopalong, with strong
+conviction. "Mine was a /hoss/."
+
+"You stole that cayuse last night outen Stevenson's corral," continued
+Charley, merely as a matter of form. Charley believed that a man had
+the right to be heard before he died--it wouldn't change the result
+and so could not do any harm.
+
+"Did I? Why--" his forehead became furrowed again, but the events of
+the night before were vague in his memory and he only stumbled in his
+soliloquy. "But /I/ wouldn't swap my cayuse for that spavined, saddle-
+galled, ring-boned bone-yard! Why, it interferes, an' it's got the
+heaves something awful!" he finished triumphantly, as if an appeal to
+common sense would clinch things. But he made no headway against them,
+for the rope went around his neck almost before he had finished
+talking and a flurry of excitement ensued. When the dust settled he
+was on his back again and the rope was being tossed over the limb.
+
+The crowd had been too busily occupied to notice anything away from
+the scene of their strife and were greatly surprised when they heard a
+hail and saw a stranger sliding to a stand not twenty feet from them.
+"What's this?" demanded the newcomer, angrily.
+
+Charley's gun glinted as it swung up and the stranger swore again.
+"What you doing?" he shouted. "Take that gun off'n me or I'll blow you
+apart!"
+
+"Mind yore business an' sit still!" Charley snapped. "You ain't in no
+position to blow anything apart. We've got a hoss-thief an' we're
+shore going to hang him regardless."
+
+"An' if there's any trouble about it we can hang two as well as we can
+one," suggested Stevenson, placidly. "You sit tight an' mind yore own
+affairs, stranger," he warned.
+
+Hopalong turned his head slowly. "He's a liar, stranger; just a plain,
+squaw's dog of a liar. An' I'll be much obliged if you'll lick hell
+outen 'em an' let--/why, hullo, hoss-thief/!" he shouted, at once
+recognizing the other. It was the man he had met in the gospel tent,
+the man he had chased for a horse-thief and then swapped mounts with.
+"Stole any more cayuses?" he asked, grinning, believing that
+everything was all right now. "Did you take that cayuse back to
+Grant?" he finished.
+
+"Han's up!" roared Stevenson, also covering the stranger. "So yo're
+another one of 'em, hey? We're in luck to-day. Watch him, boys, till I
+get his gun. If he moves, drop him quick."
+
+"You damned fool!" cried Ferris, white with rage. "He ain't no thief,
+an' neither am I! My name's Ben Ferris an' I live in Winchester. Why,
+that man you've got is Hopalong Cassidy--Cassidy, of the Bar-20!"
+
+"Sit still--you can talk later, mebby," replied Stevenson, warily
+approaching him. "Watch him, boys!"
+
+"Hold on!" shouted Ferris, murder in his eyes. "Don't you try that on
+me! I'll get one of you before I go; I'll shore get one! You can
+listen a minute, an' I can't get away."
+
+"All right; talk quick."
+
+Ferris pleaded as hard as he knew how and called attention to the
+condition of the prisoner. "If he did take the wrong cayuse he was too
+blind drunk to know it! Can't you /see/ he was!" he cried.
+
+"Yep; through yet?" asked Stevenson, quietly.
+
+"No! I ain't started yet!" Ferris yelled. "He did me a good turn once,
+one that I can't never repay, an' I'm going to stop this murder or go
+with him. If I go I'll take one of you with me, an' my friends an'
+outfit'll get the rest."
+
+"Wait till Old John gets here," suggested Jed to Charley. "He ought to
+know this feller."
+
+"For the Lord's sake!" snorted Charley. "He won't show up for a week.
+Did you hear that, fellers?" he laughed, turning to the others.
+
+"Stranger," began Stevenson, moving slowly ahead again. "You give us
+yore guns an' sit quiet till we gets this feller out of the way. We'll
+wait till Old John Ferris comes before doing anything with you. He
+ought to know you."
+
+"He knows me all right; an' he'd like to see me hung," replied the
+stranger. "I won't give up my guns, an' you won't lynch Hopalong
+Cassidy while I can pull a trigger. That's flat!" He began to talk
+feverishly to gain time and his eyes lighted suddenly. Seeing that Jed
+White was wavering, Stevenson ordered them to go on with the work they
+had come to perform, and he watched Ferris as a cat watches a mouse,
+knowing that he would be the first man hit if the stranger got a
+chance to shoot. But Ferris stood up very slowly in his stirrups so as
+not to alarm the five with any quick movement, and shouted at the top
+of his voice, grabbing off his sombrero and waving it frantically. A
+faint cheer reached his ears and made the lynchers turn quickly and
+look behind them. Nine men were tearing towards them at a dead gallop
+and had already begun to forsake their bunched-up formation in favor
+of an extended line. They were due to arrive in a very few minutes and
+caused Mr. Ferris' heart to overflow with joy.
+
+"Me an' my outfit," he said, laughing softly and waving his hand
+towards the newcomers, "started out this morning to round up a bunch
+of cows, an' we got jackasses instead. Now lynch him, damn you!"
+
+The nine swept up in skirmish order, guns out and ready for anything
+in the nature of trouble that might zephyr up. "What's the matter,
+Ben?" asked Tom Murphy ominously. As under-foreman of the ranch he
+regarded himself as spokesman. And at that instant catching sight of
+the rope, he swore savagely under his breath.
+
+"Nothing, Tom; nothing now," responded Mr. Ferris. "They was going to
+hang my friend there, Mr. Hopalong Cassidy, of the Bar-20. He's the
+feller that lent me his cayuse to get home on when Molly was sick. I'm
+going to take him back to the ranch when he gets sober an' introduce
+him to some very good friends of hissn that he ain't never seen. Ain't
+I, Cassidy?" he demanded with a laugh.
+
+But Mr. Cassidy made no reply. He was sound asleep, as he had been
+since the advent of his very good and capable friend, Mr. Ben Ferris,
+of Winchester.
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XIII
+
+                        MR. TOWNSEND, MARSHAL
+
+Mr. Cassidy went to the ranch and lived like a lord until shame drove
+him away. He had no business to live on cake and pie and wonderful
+dishes that Mrs. Ferris and her sister literally forced on him, and
+let Buck's mission wait on his convenience. So he tore himself away
+and made up for lost time as he continued his journey on his own
+horse, for which Tom Murphy and three men had faced down the scowling
+population of Hoyt's Corners. The rest of his journey was without
+incident until, on his return home along another route, he rode into
+Rawhide and heard about the marshal, Mr. Townsend.
+
+This individual was unanimously regarded as an affliction upon society
+and there had been objections to his continued existence, which had
+been overruled by the object himself. Then word had gone forth that a
+substantial reward and the undying gratitude of a considerable number
+of people awaited the man who would rid the community of the pest who
+seemed to be ubiquitous. Several had come in response to the call, one
+had returned in a wagon, and the others were now looked upon as
+martyrs, and as examples of asinine foolhardiness. Then it had been
+decided to elect a marshal, or perhaps two or three, to preserve the
+peace of the town; but this was a flat failure. In the first place,
+Mr. Townsend had dispersed the meeting with no date set for a new one;
+in the second, no man wanted the office; and as a finish to the
+comedy, Mr. Townsend cheerfully announced that hereafter and
+henceforth he was the marshal, self-appointed and self-sustained.
+Those who did not like it could easily move to other localities.
+
+With this touch of office-holding came ambition, and of stern stuff.
+The marshal asked himself why he could not be more officers than one
+and found no reason. Thereupon he announced that he was marshal, town
+council, mayor, justice, and pound-keeper. He did not go to the
+trouble of incorporating himself as the Town of Rawhide, because he
+knew nothing of such immaterial things; but he was the town, and that
+sufficed.
+
+He had been grievously troubled about finances in the past, and he
+firmly believed that genius such as his should be above such petty
+annoyances as being "broke." That was why he constituted himself the
+keeper of the public pound, which contented him for a short time, but
+later, feeling that he needed more money than the pound was giving
+him, he decided that the spirit of the times demanded public
+improvements, and therefore, as the executive head of the town, he
+levied taxes and improved the town by improving his wardrobe and the
+manner of his living. Each saloon must pay into the town treasury the
+sum of one hundred dollars per year, which entitled it to police
+protection and assured it that no new competitors would be allowed to
+do business in Rawhide.
+
+Needless to say he was not furiously popular, and the crowds
+congregated where he was not. His tyranny was based upon his uncanny
+faculty of anticipating the other man's draw. The citizens were not
+unaccustomed to seeing swift death result to the slower man from
+misplaced confidence in his speed of hand--that was in the game--an
+even break; but to oppose an individual who /always/ knew what you
+were going to do before you knew it yourself--this was very
+discouraging. Therefore, he flourished and waxed fat.
+
+Of late, however, he had been very low in finances and could expect no
+taxes to be paid for three months. Even the pound had yielded him
+nothing for over a week, the old patrons of Rawhide's stores and
+saloons preferring to ride twenty miles farther in another direction
+than to redeem impounded horses. Perhaps his prices had been too high,
+he thought; so he assembled the town council, the mayor, the marshal,
+and the keeper of the public pound to consult upon the matter. He
+decided that the prices were too high and at once posted a new notice
+announcing the cut. It was hard to fall from a dollar to "two bits,"
+but the treasury was low--the times were panicky.
+
+As soon as he had changed the notice he strolled up to the Paradise to
+inform the bartender that impounding fines had been cut to bargain
+prices and to ask him to make the fact generally known through his
+patrons. As he came within sight of the building he jumped with
+pleasure, for a horse was standing dejectedly before the door. Joy of
+joys, trade was picking up--a stranger had come to town! Hastening
+back to the corral, he added a cipher to the posted figure, added a
+decimal point, and changed the cents sign to that of a dollar. Two
+dollars and fifty cents was now the price prescribed by law. Returning
+hastily to the Paradise, he led the animal away, impounded it, and
+then sat down in front of the corral gate with his Winchester across
+his knees. Two dollars and fifty cents! Prosperity had indeed
+returned!
+
+"Where the CG ranch is I dunno, but I do know where one of their
+cayuses is," he mused, glancing between two of the corral posts at the
+sleepy animal. "If I has to auction it off to pay for its keep and the
+fine, the saddle will bring a good, round sum. I allus knowed that a
+dollar wasn't enough, nohow."
+
+Nat Fisher, punching cows for the CG and tired of his job, leaned
+comfortably back in his chair in the Paradise and swapped lies with
+the all-wise bartender. After a while he realized that he was
+hopelessly outclassed at this diversion and he dug down into his
+pocket and brought to light some loose silver and regarded it
+thoughtfully. It was all the money he had and was beginning to grow
+interesting.
+
+"Say, was you ever broke?" he asked suddenly, a trace of sadness in
+his voice.
+
+The bartender glanced at him quickly, but remained judiciously silent,
+smelling the preamble of an attempt to "touch."
+
+"Well, I have been, am now, an' allus will be, more or less,"
+continued Fisher, in soliloquy, not waiting for an answer to his
+question. "Money an' me don't ride the same range, not any. Here I am
+fifty miles away from my ranch, with four dollars and ninety-five
+cents between me an' starvation an' thirst, an' me not going home for
+three days yet. I was going to quit the CG this month, but now I gotta
+go on working for it till another pay-day. I don't even own a cayuse.
+Now, just to show you what kind of a prickly pear I am, I'll cut the
+cards with you to see who owns this," he suggested, smiling brightly
+at his companion.
+
+The bartender laughed, treated on the house, and shuffled out from
+behind the bar with a pack of greasy playing cards. "All at once, or a
+dollar a shot?" he asked, shuffling deftly.
+
+"Any way it suits you," responded Fisher, nonchalantly. He knew how a
+sport should talk; and once he had cut the cards to see who should own
+his full month's pay. He hoped he would be more successful this time.
+
+"Don't make no difference to me," rejoined the bartender.
+
+"All right; all at once, an' have it over with. It's a kid's game, at
+that."
+
+"High wins, of course?"
+
+"High wins."
+
+The bartender pushed the cards across the table for his companion to
+cut. Nat did so, and turned up a deuce. "Oh, don't bother," he said,
+sliding the four dollars and ninety-five cents across the table.
+
+"Wait," grinned the bartender, who was a stickler for rules. He
+reached over and turned up a card, and then laughed. "Matched, by
+George!"
+
+"Try again," grinned Fisher, his face clearing with hope.
+
+The bartender shuffled, and Fisher turned a five, which proved to be
+just one point shy when his companion had shown his card.
+
+"Now," remarked Fisher, watching his money disappear into the
+bartender's pocket, "I'll put up my gun agin ten of yore dollars if
+yo're game. How about it?"
+
+"Done--that's a good weapon."
+
+"None better. Ah, a jack!"
+
+"I say queen--nope, /king/!" exulted the dispenser of liquids. "Say,
+mebby you can get a job around here when you quit the CG," he
+suggested.
+
+"That's a good idea," replied Fisher. "But let's finish this while
+we're at it. I got a good saddle outside on my cayuse--go look it over
+an' tell me how much you'll put up agin it. If you win it an' can't
+use it, you can sell it. It's first class."
+
+The bartender walked to the door, looked carefully around for a
+moment, his eyes fastening upon a trail in the sandy street. Then he
+laughed. "There ain't no saddle out here," he reported, well knowing
+where it could be found.
+
+"What! Has that ornery piebald--well, what do you think of that!"
+exclaimed Fisher, looking up and down the street. "This is the first
+time that ever happened to me. Why, some coyote stole it! Look at the
+tracks!"
+
+"No; it ain't stolen," the bartender responded. He considered a moment
+and then made a suggestion. "Mebby the marshal can tell you where it
+is--he knows everything like that. Nobody can take a cayuse out of
+this town while the marshal is up an' well."
+
+"Lucky town, all right," chirped Fisher. "An' where is the marshal?"
+
+"You'll find him down the back way a couple of hundred yards; can't
+miss him. He allus hangs out there when there are cayuses in town."
+
+"Good for him! I'll chase right down an' see him; an' when I get that
+piebald----!"
+
+The bartender watched him go around the corner and shook his head
+sadly. "Yes; hell of a lucky town," he snorted bitterly, listening for
+the riot to begin.
+
+The marshal still sat against the corral gate and stroked the
+Winchester in beatific contemplation. He had a fine job and he was
+happy. Suddenly leaning forward to look up the road, he smiled
+derisively and shifted the gun. A cow-puncher was coming his way
+rapidly, and on foot.
+
+"Are you the marshal of this flea of a town?" politely inquired the
+newcomer.
+
+"I am the same," replied the man with the rifle. "Anything I kin do
+for you?"
+
+"Yes; have you seen a piebald cayuse straying around loose-like, or
+anybody leading one--CG being the brand?"
+
+"I did; it was straying."
+
+"An' which way did it go?"
+
+"Into the town pound."
+
+"What! Pond! What'n blazes is it doing with a pond? Couldn't it drink
+without getting in? Where's the pond?"
+
+"Right here. It's eating its fool head off. I said pound, not pond.
+P-o-u-n-d; which means that it's pawned, in hock, for destroying the
+vegetation of Rawhide, an' disturbing the public peace."
+
+"Good joke on the piebald, all right; it was never locked up before,"
+laughed Fisher, trying to read a sign that faced away from him at a
+slight angle. "Get it out for me an' I'll disturb /its/ peace. Sorry
+it put you to all that trouble," he sympathized.
+
+"Two dollars an' four bits, an' a dollar initiation fee--it wasn't
+never in the pound before. That makes three an' a half. Got the money
+with you?"
+
+"What!" yelled Fisher, emerging from his trance. "What!" he yelled
+again.
+
+"I ain't none deaf," placidly replied the marshal. "Got the money, the
+three an' a half?"
+
+"If you think yo're going to skin me outen three-fifty, one-fifty, or
+one measly cent, you need some medicine, an' I'll give it to you in
+pill form! You'd make a bum-looking angel, so get up an' hand over
+that cayuse, /an' do it damned quick/!"
+
+"Three-fifty, an' two bits extry for feed. It'll cost you 'bout a
+dollar a day for feed. At the end of the week I'll sell that cayuse at
+auction to pay its bills if you don't cough up. Got the money?"
+
+"I've got a lead slug for you if I can borrow my gun for five
+minutes!" retorted Fisher, seething double from anger.
+
+"Five dollars more for contempt of court," pleasantly responded Mr.
+Townsend. "As Justice of the Peace of this community I must allow no
+disrespect, no contempt of the sovereign law of this town to go
+unpunished. That makes it eight-seventy-five."
+
+"An' to think I lost my gun!" shouted Fisher, dancing with rage. "I'll
+get that cayuse out an' I won't pay a cent, not a damned cent! An'
+I'll get you at the same time!"
+
+"Now you dust around for fifteen dollars even an' stop yore contempt
+of court an' threats or I'll drill you just for luck!" rejoined Mr.
+Townsend, angrily. "If you keep on working yore mouth like that there
+won't be nothing coming to you when I sell that cayuse of yourn. Turn
+around an' strike out or I'll put you with yore ancestors!"
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XIV
+
+                         THE STRANGER'S PLAN
+
+Fisher, wild with rage, returned to the Paradise and profanely
+unfolded the tale of his burning wrongs to the bartender and demanded
+the loan of his gun, which the bartender promptly refused. The present
+owner of the gun liked Fisher very much for being such a sport and
+sympathized with him deeply, but he did not want to have such a
+pleasing acquaintance killed.
+
+"Now, see here: you cool down an' I'll lend you fifteen dollars on
+that saddle of yourn. You go up an' get that cayuse out before the
+price goes up any higher--you don't know that man like I do," remarked
+the man behind the bar earnestly. "That feller Townsend can shoot the
+eyes out of a small dog at ten miles, purty nigh. Do you savvy my
+drift?"
+
+"I won't pay him a cussed cent, an' when he goes to sell that piebald
+at auction, I'll be on hand with a gun; I'll get one somewhere, all
+right, even if I have to steal it. Then I'll shoot out /his/ eyes at
+ten paces. Why, he's a two-laigged hold-up! That man would--" he
+stopped as a stranger entered the room. "Hey, stranger! Don't you
+leave that cayuse of yourn outside all alone or that coyote of a
+marshal will steal it, shore. He's the biggest thief I ever knowed.
+He'll lift yore animal quick as a wink!" Fisher warned, excitedly.
+
+The stranger looked at him in surprise and then smiled. "Is it usual
+for a marshal to steal cayuses? Somewhat out of line, ain't it?" he
+asked Fisher, glancing at the bartender for light.
+
+"I don't care what's the rule--that marshal just stole my cayuse; an'
+he'll take yourn, too, if you ain't careful," Fisher replied.
+
+"Well," drawled the stranger, smiling still more, "I reckon I ain't
+going to stay out there an' watch it, an' I can't bring it in here.
+But I reckon it'll be all right. You see, I carry 'big medicine' agin
+hoss-thieves," he replied, tapping his holster and smiling as he
+remembered the time, not long past, when he himself had been accused
+of being one. "I'll take a chance if he will--what'll you all have?"
+
+"Little whiskey," replied Fisher, uneasily, worrying because he could
+not stand for a return treat. "But, say; you keep yore eye on that
+animal, just the same," he added, and then hurriedly gave his reasons.
+"An' the worst part of the whole thing is that I ain't got no gun, an'
+can't seem to borrow none, neither," he added, wistfully eyeing the
+stranger's Colt. "I gambled mine away to the bartender here an' he
+won't lemme borrow it for five minutes!"
+
+"Why, I never heard tell of such a thing before!" exclaimed the
+stranger, hardly believing his ears, and aghast at the thought that
+such conditions could exist. "Friend," he said, addressing the
+bartender, "how is it that this sort of thing can go on in this town?"
+When the bartender had explained at some length, his interested
+listener smote the bar with a heavy fist and voiced his outraged
+feelings. "I'll shore be plumb happy to spread that coyote marshal all
+over his cussed pound! Say, come with me; I'm going down there right
+now an' get that cayuse, an' if the marshal opens his mouth to peep
+I'll get him, too. I'm itching for a chance to tunnel a man like him.
+Come on an' see the show!"
+
+"Not much!" retorted Fisher. "While I am some pleased to meet a white
+man, an' have a deep an' abiding gratitude for yore noble offer, I
+can't let you do it. He put it over on me, an' I'm the one that's got
+to shoot him up. He's mine, my pudding; an' I'm hogging him all to
+myself. That is one luxury I can indulge in even if I am broke; an'
+I'm sorry, but I can't give you cards. Seeing, however, as you are so
+friendly to the cause of liberty an' justice, suppose you lend me yore
+gun for about three minutes by the watch. From what I've been told
+about this town such an act will win for you the eternal love an'
+gratitude of a down-trodden people; yore gun will blaze the way to
+liberty an' light, freedom an' the right to own yore own property, an'
+keep it. All I ask is that I be the undeserving medium."
+
+"A-men," sighed the bartender. "Deacon Jones will now pass down the
+aisle an' collect the buttons an' tin money."
+
+"Stranger," continued Fisher, warming up, when he saw that his words
+had not produced the desired result, "King James the Twelfth, on the
+memorable an' blood-soaked field of Trafalgar, gave men their rights.
+On that great day he signed the Magnet Charter, and proved himself as
+great a liberator as the sainted Lincoln. You, on this most auspicious
+occasion, hold in yore strong hand the destiny of this town--the women
+an' children in this cursed community will rise up an' bless you
+forever an' pass yore name down to their ancestors as a man of deeds
+an' honor! Let us pause to consider this--"
+
+"Hold that pause!" interrupted the astounded bartender hurriedly, and
+with shaking voice. "String it out till I get untangled! I ain't up
+much on history, so I won't take no chance with that; but I want to
+tell our eloquent guest that there ain't no women /or/ children in
+this town. An' if there was, I sort of reckon their ancestors would be
+born first. What do you think about it--"
+
+"Let us pause to consider the shameful an' burning /indignity/
+perpetrated upon us to-day!" continued Fisher, unheeding the
+bartender's words. "I, a peaceful, law-abiding /citizen/ of this
+/glorious/ Commonwealth, a free an' /equal/ member of a liberty-loving
+nation, a nation whose standard is, /now/ and forever, 'Gimme liberty
+or gimme det', a /nation that stands for all the conceivable benefits
+that mankind may enjoy, a /nation/ that scintillates pyrotechnically
+over the prostitution of power--"
+
+/Bang!/ went the bartender's fist on the counter. "Hey! Pause again!
+Wait a minute! Go back to 'shameful an' burning,' and gimme a chance!"
+
+"--that stands for an even break, I, Nathaniel G. Fisher, have been
+deprived of one of my inalienable rights, the right of locomotion to
+distant an' other parts. /An'/ I say, right here an' now, that I won't
+allow no spavined individual with thieving prehensils to--"
+
+"Has that pound-keeper got a rifle?" calmly interrupted the stranger,
+without a pang of remorse.
+
+"He has. Thus has it allus been with tyrants--well armed, fortified by
+habit an' tradition--"
+
+"Then you won't get my gun, savvy? We'll find another way to get that
+cayuse as long as you feel that the marshal is yore hunting. Besides,
+this man's gall deserves some respect; it is genius, an' to pump
+genius full of cold lead is to act rash. Now, suppose you tell me when
+this auction is due to come off."
+
+"Oh, not for a week; he wants to run up the board an' keep expenses.
+Tyrants, such as him--"
+
+"Shore," interposed the bartender, "he'll make the expenses equal what
+he gets for the cayuse, no matter what it comes to. An' he's the whole
+town, an' the justice of the peace, besides. What he says goes."
+
+"Well, I'm the Governor of the State an' I've got the Supreme Court
+right here in my holster, so I reckon I can reverse his official acts
+an' fill his legal opinions full of holes," the stranger replied,
+laughing heartily. "Bartender, will you help me play a little joke on
+His Honore, the Town,--just a little harmless joke?"
+
+"Well, that all depends whether the joke is harmless on /me/. You see,
+he can shoot like the devil--he allus knows when a man is going to
+draw, an' gets his gun out first. I ain't got no respect for him, but
+I take off my hat to his gunplay, all right."
+
+The stranger smiled. "Well, I can shoot a bit myself. But I shore wish
+he'd hold that auction quick--I've got to go on home without losing
+any more time. Fisher, suppose you go down to the pound and dare that
+tumble-bug to hold the auction this afternoon. Tell him that you'll
+shoot him full of holes if he goes pulling off any auction to-day, an'
+dare him to try it. I want it to come off before night, an' I reckon
+that'll hustle it along."
+
+"I'll do anything to get the edge on that thief," replied Fisher,
+quickly, "but don't you reckon I'd better tote a gun, going down an'
+bearding such a thief in his own den? You know I allus like to shoot
+when I'm being shot at."
+
+"Well, I don't blame you; it's only a petty weakness," grinned the
+stranger, hanging onto his Colt as if fearing that the other would
+snatch it and run. "But you'll do better without any gun--me an' the
+bartender don't want to have to go down there an' bring you back on a
+plank."
+
+"All right, then," sighed Fisher, reluctantly, "but he'll jump the
+price again. He'll fine me for contempt of court an' make me pay money
+I ain't got for disturbing him. But I'm game--so long."
+
+When he had gained the street, the stranger turned to the bartender.
+"Now, friend, you tell me if this man of gall, this Mr. Townsend, has
+got many friends in town--anybody that'll be likely to pot shoot from
+the back when things get warm. I can't watch both ends unless I know
+what I'm up against."
+
+"/No!/ Every man in town hates him," answered the bartender, hastily,
+and with emphasis.
+
+"Ah, that's good. Now, I wonder if you could see 'most everybody
+that's in town now an' get 'em to promise to help me by letting me run
+this all by myself. All I want them to do is not to say a word. It
+ain't hard to keep still when you want to."
+
+"Why, I reckon I might see 'em--there ain't many here this time of
+day," responded the bartender. "But what's yore game, anyhow?" he
+asked, suddenly growing suspicious.
+
+"It's just a little scheme I figgered out," the stranger replied, and
+then he confided in the bartender, who jigged a few fancy steps to
+show his appreciation of the other's genius. His suspicions left him
+at once, and he hastened out to tell the inhabitants of the town to
+follow his instructions to the letter, and he knew they would obey,
+and be glad, hilariously glad, to do so. While he was hurrying around
+giving his instructions, the CG puncher returned to the hotel and
+reported.
+
+"Well, it worked, all right," Fisher growled. "I told him what I'd do
+to him if he tried to auction that cayuse off an' he retorted that if
+I didn't shut up an' mind my own business, that he'd sell the horse
+this noon, at twelve o'clock, in the public square, wherever that is.
+I told him he was a coyote and dared him to do it. Told him I'd pump
+him full of air ducts if he didn't wait till next week. Said I had the
+promise of a gun an' that it'd give me great pleasure to use it on him
+if he tried any auctioneering at my expense this noon. Then he fined
+me five dollars more, swore that he'd show me what it meant to dare
+the marshal of Rawhide an' insult the dignity of the court an' town
+council, an' also that he'd shoot my liver all through my system if I
+didn't leave him to his reflections. Now, look here, stranger; noon is
+only two hours away an' I'm due to lose my outfit: what are /you/
+going to do to get me out of this mess?" he finished anxiously, hands
+on hips.
+
+"You did real well, very fine, indeed," replied the stranger, smiling
+with content. "An' don't you worry about that outfit--I'm going to get
+it back for you an' a little bit more. So, as long as you don't lose
+nothing, you ain't got no kick coming, have you? An' you ain't got no
+interest in what I'm going to do. Just sit tight an' keep yore eyes
+an' ears open at noon. Meantime, if you want something to do to keep
+you busy, practise making speeches--you ought to be ashamed to be
+punching cows an' working for a living when you could use yore talents
+an' get a lot of graft besides. Any man who can say as much on nothing
+as you can ought to be in the Senate representing some railroad
+company or waterpower steal--you don't have to work there, just loaf
+an' take easy money for cheating the people what put you there. Now,
+don't get mad--I'm only stringing you: I wouldn't be mean enough to
+call you a senator. To tell the truth, I think yo're too honest to
+even think of such a thing. But go ahead an' practise--/I/ don't mind
+it a bit."
+
+"Huh! I couldn't go to Congress," laughed Fisher. "I'd have to
+practise by getting elected mayor of some town an' then go to the
+Legislature for the finishing touches."
+
+"Mr. Townsend would beat you out," murmured the stranger, looking out
+of the window and wishing for noon. He sauntered over to a chair,
+placed it where he could see his horse, and took things easy. The
+bartender returned with several men at his heels, and all were
+grinning and joking. They took up their places against the bar and
+indulged in frequent fits of chuckling, not letting their eyes stray
+from the man in the chair and the open street through the door, where
+the auction was to be held. They regarded the stranger in the light of
+a would-be public benefactor, a martyr, who was to provide the town
+with a little excitement before he followed his predecessors into the
+grave. Perhaps he would /not/ be killed, perhaps he would shoot the
+pound-keeper and general public nuisance--but ah, this was the stuff
+of which dreams were made: the marshal would never be killed, he would
+thrive and outlive his fellow-townsmen, and die in bed at a ripe old
+age.
+
+One of the citizens, dangling his legs from the card table, again
+looked closely at the man with the plan, and then turned to a
+companion beside him. "I've seen that there feller som'ers, sometime,"
+he whispered. "I /know/ I have. But I'll be teetotally dod-blasted if
+I can place him."
+
+"Well, Jim; I never saw him afore, an' I don't know who he is,"
+replied the other, refilling his pipe with elaborate care, "but if he
+can kill Townsend to-day, I'll be so plumb joyous I won't know what to
+do with m'self."
+
+"I'm afraid he won't, though," remarked another, lolling back against
+the bar. "The marshal was born to hang--nobody can beat him on the
+draw. But, anyhow, we're going to see some fun."
+
+The first speaker, still straining his memory for a clue to the
+stranger's identity, pulled out a handful of silver and placed it on
+the table. "I'll bet that he makes good," he offered, but there were
+no takers.
+
+The stranger now lazily arose and stepped into the doorway, leaning
+against the jamb and shaking his holster sharply to loosen the gun for
+action. He glanced quickly behind him and spoke curtly: "Remember, now
+--/I/ am to do all the talking at this auction; you fellers just look
+on."
+
+A mumble of assent replied to him, and the townsmen craned their necks
+to look out. A procession slowly wended its way up the street, led by
+the marshal, astride a piebald horse bearing the crude brand of the
+CG. Three men followed him and numerous dogs of several colors, sizes,
+and ages roamed at will, in a listless, bored way, between the horse
+and the men. The dust arose sluggishly and slowly dissipated in the
+hot, shimmering air, and a fly buzzed with wearying persistence
+against the dirty glass in the front window.
+
+The marshal, peering out from under the pulled-down brim of his
+Stetson, looked critically at the sleepy horse standing near the open
+door of the Paradise and sought its brand, but in vain, for it was
+standing with the wrong side towards him. Then he glanced at the man
+in the door, a puzzled expression stealing over his face. He had known
+that man once, but time and events had wiped him nearly out of his
+memory and he could not place him. He decided that the other horse
+could wait until he had sold the one he was on, and, stopping before
+the door of the Paradise, he raised his left arm, his right arm lying
+close to his side, not far from the holster on his thigh.
+
+"Gentlemen an' feller-citizens," he began: "As marshal of this booming
+city, I am about to offer for sale to the highest bidder this A Number
+1 piebald, pursooant to the decree of the local court an' with the
+sanction of the town council an' the mayor. This same sale is for to
+pay the town for the board an' keep of this animal, an' to square the
+fine in such cases made an' provided. It's sound in wind an' limb,
+fourteen han's high, an' in all ways a beautiful piece of hoss-flesh.
+Now, gentlemen, how much am I bid for this cayuse? Remember, before
+you make me any offer, that this animal is broke to punching cows an'
+is a first-class cayuse."
+
+The crowd in the Paradise had flocked out into the street and oozed
+along the front of the building, while the stranger now leaned
+carelessly against his own horse, critically looking over the one on
+sale. Fisher, uneasy and worried, squirmed close at hand and glanced
+covertly from his horse and saddle to the guns in the belts on the
+members of the crowd.
+
+It was the stranger who broke the silence: "Two bits I bid--two bits,"
+he said, very quietly, whereat the crowd indulged in a faint snicker
+and a few nudges.
+
+The marshal looked at him and then ignored him. "How much, gentlemen?"
+he asked, facing the crowd again.
+
+"Two bits," repeated the stranger, as the crowd remained silent.
+
+"Two bits!" yelled the marshal, glaring at him angrily: "/Two bits!/
+Why, the /look/ in this cayuse's eyes is worth four! Look at the
+spirit in them eyes, look at the intelligence! The saddle alone is
+worth a clean forty dollars of any man's money. I am out here to sell
+this animal to the highest bidder; the sale's begun, an' I want bids,
+not jokes. Now, who'll start it off?" he demanded, glancing around;
+but no one had anything to say except the terse stranger, who appeared
+to be getting irritated.
+
+"You've got a starter--I've given you a bid. I bid two bits--t-w-o
+b-i-t-s, twenty-five cents. Now go ahead with yore auction."
+
+The marshal thought he saw an attempt at humor, and since he was
+feeling quite happy, and since he knew that good humor is conducive to
+good bidding, he smiled, all the time, however, racking his memory for
+the name of the humorist. So he accepted the bid: "All right, this
+gentleman bids two bits. Two bits I am bid--two bits. Twenty-five
+cents. Who'll make it twenty-five dollars? Two bits--who says twenty-
+five dollars? Ah, did /you/ say twenty-five dollars?" he snapped,
+leveling an accusing and threatening fore-finger at the man nearest
+him, who squirmed restlessly and glanced at the stranger. "/Did you
+say twenty-five dollars?/" he shouted.
+
+The stranger came to the rescue. "He did not. He hasn't opened his
+mouth. But /I/ said twenty-five /cents/," quietly observed the
+humorist.
+
+"Who'll gimme thirty? Who'll gimme thirty dollars? Did I hear thirty
+dollars? Did I hear twenty-five dollars bid? Who said thirty dollars?
+Did /you/ say twenty-five dollars?"
+
+"How could he when he was talking politics to the man behind him?"
+asked the stranger. "I said two bits," he added complacently, as he
+watched the auctioneer closely.
+
+"I want twenty-five dollars--an' you shut yore blasted mouth!" snapped
+the marshal at the persistent twenty-five-cent man. He did not see the
+fire smouldering in the squinting eyes so alertly watching him.
+"Twenty-five dollars--not a cent less takes the cayuse. Why,
+gentlemen, he's worth twenty in /cans/! Gimme twenty-five dollars,
+somebody. /I/ bid twenty-five. I want thirty. I want thirty,
+gentlemen; you must gimme thirty. /I/ bid twenty-five dollars--who's
+going to make it thirty?"
+
+"Show us yore twenty-five an' she's yourn," remarked the stranger,
+with exasperating assurance, while Fisher grew pale with excitement.
+The stranger was standing clear of his horse now, and alert readiness
+was stamped all over him. "You accepted my bid--show yore twenty-five
+dollars or take my two bits."
+
+"You close that face of yourn!" exploded the marshal, angrily. "I
+don't mind a little fun, but you've got altogether too damned much to
+say. You've queered the bidding, an' now you shut up!"
+
+"I said two bits an' I mean just that. You show yore twenty-five or
+gimme that cayuse on my bid," retorted the stranger.
+
+"By the pans of Julius Caesar!" shouted the marshal. "I'll put you to
+sleep so you'll never wake up if I hears any more about you an' yore
+two bits!"
+
+"Show me, Rednose," snapped the other, his gun out in a flash. "I want
+that cayuse, an' I want it quick. You show me twenty-five dollars or
+I'll take it out from under you on my bid, you yaller dog! /Stop it!/
+Shut up! That's suicide, that is. Others have tried it an' failed, an'
+yo're no sleight-of-hand gun-man. This is the first time I ever paid a
+hoss-thief in /silver/, or bought stolen goods, but everything has to
+have a beginning. You get nervous with that hand of yourn an' I'll
+cure you of it! Git off that piebald, an' quick!"
+
+The marshal felt stunned and groped for a way out, but the gun under
+his nose was as steady as a rock. He sat there stupidly, not knowing
+enough to obey orders.
+
+"Come, get off that cayuse," sharply commanded the stranger. "An' I'll
+take yore Winchester as a fine for this high-handed business you've
+been carrying on. You may be the local court an' all the town
+officials, but I'm the Governor, an' here's my Supreme Court, as I was
+saying to the boys a little while ago. Yo're overruled. Get off that
+cayuse, an' don't waste no more time about it, neither!"
+
+The marshal glared into the muzzle of the weapon and felt a sinking in
+the pit of his stomach. Never before had he failed to anticipate the
+pull of a gun. As the stranger said, there must always be a beginning,
+a first time. He was thinking quickly now; he was master of himself
+again, but he realized that he was in a tight place unless he obeyed
+the man with the drop. Not a man in town would help him; on the other
+hand, they were all against him, and hugely enjoying his discomfiture.
+With some men he could afford to take chances and jerk at his gun even
+when at such a disadvantage, but--
+
+"Stranger," he said slowly, "what's yore name?"
+
+The crowd listened eagerly.
+
+"My /friends/ call me Hopalong Cassidy; other people, other things--
+you gimme that cayuse an' that Winchester. Here! Hand the gun to
+Fisher, so there won't be no lamentable accidents: I don't want to
+shoot you, 'less I have to."
+
+"They're both yourn," sighed Mr. Townsend, remembering a certain day
+over near Alameda, when he had seen Mr. Cassidy at gun-play. He
+dismounted slowly and sorrowfully. "Do I--do I get my two bits?" he
+asked.
+
+"You shore do--yore gall is worth it," said Mr. Cassidy, turning the
+piebald over to its overjoyed owner, who was already arranging further
+gambling with his friend, the bartender.
+
+Mr. Townsend pocketed the one bid, surveyed glumly the hilarious crowd
+flocking in to the bar to drink to their joy in his defeat, and
+wandered disconsolately back to the pound. He was never again seen in
+that locality, or by any of the citizens of Rawhide, for between dark
+and dawn he resumed his travels, bound for some locality far removed
+from limping, red-headed drawbacks.
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XV
+
+                       JOHNNY LEARNS SOMETHING
+
+For several weeks after Hopalong got back to the ranch, full of
+interesting stories and minus the grouch, things went on in a way
+placid enough for the most peacefully inclined individual that ever
+sat a saddle. And then trouble drifted down from the north and caused
+a look of anxiety to spoil Buck Peters' pleasant expression, and began
+to show on the faces of his men. When one finds the carcasses of two
+cows on the same day, and both are skinned, there can be only one
+conclusion. The killing and skinning of two cows out of herds that are
+numbered by thousands need not, in themselves, bring lines of worry to
+any foreman's brow; but there is the sting of being cheated, the
+possibility of the losses going higher unless a sharp lesson be given
+upon the folly of fooling with a very keen and active buzz-saw,--and
+it was the determination of the outfit of the Bar-20 to teach that
+lesson, and as quickly as circumstances would permit.
+
+It was common knowledge that there was a more or less organized band
+of shiftless malcontents making its headquarters in and near Perry's
+Bend, some distance up the river, and the deduction in this case was
+easy. The Bar-20 cared very little about what went on at Perry's Bend
+--that was a matter which concerned only the ranches near that town--
+as long as no vexatious happenings sifted too far south. But they had
+so sifted, and Perry's Bend, or rather the undesirable class hanging
+out there, was due to receive a shock before long.
+
+About a week after the finding of the first skinned cows, Pete Wilson
+tornadoed up to the bunk house with a perforated arm. Pete was on
+foot, having lost his horse at the first exchange of shots, which
+accounts for the expression describing his arrival. Pete hated to
+walk, he hated still more to get shot, and most of all he hated to
+have to admit that his rifle-shooting was so far below par. He had
+seen the thief at work and, too eager to work up close to the cattle
+skinner before announcing his displeasure, had missed the first shot.
+When he dragged himself out from under his deceased horse the scenery
+was undisturbed save for a small cloud of dust hovering over a distant
+rise to the north of him. After delivering a short and bitter
+monologue he struck out for the ranch and arrived in a very hot and
+wrathful condition. It was contagious, that condition, and before long
+the entire outfit was in the saddle and pounding north, Pete overjoyed
+because his wound was so slight as not to bar him from the chase. The
+shock was on the way, and as events proved, was to be one long to
+linger in the minds of the inhabitants of Perry's Bend and the
+surrounding range.
+
+
+
+The patrons of the Oasis liked their tobacco strong. The pungent smoke
+drifted in sluggish clouds along the low, black ceiling, following its
+upward slant toward the east wall and away from the high bar at the
+other end. This bar, rough and strong, ran from the north wall to
+within a scant two feet of the south wall, the opening bridged by a
+hinged board which served as an extension to the counter. Behind the
+bar was a rear door, low and double, the upper part barred securely--
+the lower part was used most. In front of and near the bar was a large
+round table, at which four men played cards silently, while two
+smaller tables were located along the north wall. Besides dilapidated
+chairs there were half a dozen low wooden boxes partly filled with
+sand, and attention was directed to the existence and purpose of these
+by a roughly lettered sign on the wall, reading: "Gents will look for
+a box first," which the "gents" sometimes did. The majority of the
+"gents" preferred to aim at various knotholes in the floor and bet on
+the result, chancing the outpouring of the proprietor's wrath if they
+missed.
+
+On the wall behind the bar was a smaller and neater request: "Leave
+your guns with the bartender.--Edwards." This, although a month old,
+still called forth caustic and profane remarks from the regular
+frequenters of the saloon, for hitherto restraint in the matter of
+carrying weapons had been unknown. They forthwith evaded the order in
+a manner consistent with their characteristics--by carrying smaller
+guns where they could not be seen. The majority had simply sawed off a
+generous part of the long barrels of their Colts and Remingtons, which
+did not improve their accuracy.
+
+Edwards, the new marshal of Perry's Bend, had come direct from Kansas
+and his reputation as a fighter had preceded him. When he took up his
+first day's work he was kept busy proving that he was the rightful
+owner of it and that it had not been exaggerated in any manner or
+degree. With the exception of one instance the proof had been
+bloodless, for he reasoned that gun-play should give way, whenever
+possible, to a crushing "right" or "left" to the point of the jaw or
+the pit of the stomach. His proficiency in the manly art was polished
+and thorough and bespoke earnest application. The last doubting Thomas
+to be convinced came to five minutes after his diaphragm had been
+rudely and suddenly raised several inches by a low right hook, and as
+he groped for his bearings and got his wind back again he asked, very
+feebly, where "Kansas" was; and the name stuck.
+
+When Harlan heard the nickname for the first time he stopped pulling
+the cork out of a whiskey bottle long enough to remark, casually, "I
+allus reckoned Kansas was purty close to hell," and said no more about
+it. Harlan was the proprietor and bartender of the Oasis and catered
+to the excessive and uncritical thirsts of the ruck of range society,
+and he had objected vigorously to the placing of the second sign in
+his place of business; but at the close of an incisive if inelegant
+reply from the marshal, the sign went up, and stayed up. Edwards'
+language and delivery were as convincing as his fists.
+
+The marshal did not like the Oasis; indeed, he went further and
+cordially hated it. Harlan's saloon was a thorn in his side and he was
+only waiting for a good excuse to wipe it off the local map. He was
+the Law, and behind him were the range riders, who would be only too
+glad to have the nest of rustlers wiped out and its gang of ne'er-do-
+wells scattered to the four winds. Indeed, he had been given to
+understand in a most polite and diplomatic way that if this were not
+done lawfully they would try to do it themselves, and they had great
+faith in their ability to handle the situation in a thorough and
+workmanlike manner. This would not do in a law-abiding community, as
+he called the town, and so he had replied that the work was his, and
+that it would be performed as soon as he believed himself justified to
+act. Harlan and his friends were fully conversant with the feeling
+against them and had become a little more cautious, alertly watching
+out for trouble.
+
+On the evening of the day which saw Pete Wilson's discomfiture most of
+the habitues had assembled in the Oasis where, besides the card-
+players already mentioned, eight men lounged against the bar. There
+was some laughter, much subdued talking, and a little whispering. More
+whispering went on under that roof than in all the other places in
+town put together; for here rustling was planned, wayfaring strangers
+were "trimmed" in "frame-ups" at cards, and a hunted man was certain
+to find assistance. Harlan had once boasted that no fugitive had ever
+been taken from his saloon, and he was behind the bar and standing on
+the trap door which led to the six-by-six cellar when he made the
+assertion. It was true, for only those in his confidence knew of the
+place of refuge under the floor; it had been dug at night and the dirt
+carefully disposed of.
+
+It had not been dark very long before talking ceased and card-playing
+was suspended while all looked up as the front door crashed open and
+two punchers entered, looking the crowd over with critical care.
+
+"Stay here, Johnny," Hopalong told his youthful companion, and then
+walked forward, scrutinizing each scowling face in turn, while Johnny
+stood with his back to the door, keenly alert, his right hand resting
+lightly on his belt not far from the holster.
+
+Harlan's thick neck grew crimson and his eyes hard. "Looking fer
+something?" he asked with bitter sarcasm, his hands under the bar.
+Johnny grinned hopefully and a sudden tenseness took possession of him
+as he watched for the first hostile move.
+
+"Yes," Hopalong replied coolly, appraising Harlan's attitude and look
+in one swift glance, "but it ain't here, now. Johnny, get out," he
+ordered, backing after his companion, and safely outside, the two
+walked towards Jackson's store, Johnny complaining about the little
+time spent in the Oasis.
+
+As they entered the store they saw Edwards, whose eye asked a
+question.
+
+"No; he ain't in there yet," Hopalong replied.
+
+"Did you look all over? Behind the bar?" Edwards asked, slowly. "He
+can't get out of town through that cordon you've got strung around it,
+an' he ain't nowhere else. Leastwise, I couldn't find him."
+
+"Come on back!" excitedly exclaimed Johnny, turning towards the door.
+"You didn't look behind the bar! Come on--bet you ten dollars that's
+where he is!"
+
+"Mebby yo're right, Kid," replied Hopalong, and the marshal's nodding
+head decided it.
+
+In the saloon there was strong language, and Jack Quinn, expert
+skinner of other men's cows, looked inquiringly at the proprietor.
+"What's up now, Harlan?"
+
+The proprietor laughed harshly but said nothing--taciturnity was his
+one redeeming trait. "Did you say cigars?" he asked, pushing a box
+across the bar to an impatient customer. Another beckoned to him and
+he leaned over to hear the whispered request, a frown struggling to
+show itself on his face. "Nix; you know my rule. No trust in here."
+
+But the man at the far end of the line was unlike the proprietor and
+he prefaced his remarks with a curse. "/I/ know what's up! They want
+Jerry Brown, that's what! An' I hopes they don't get him, the
+bullies!"
+
+"What did he do? Why do they want him?" asked the man who had wanted
+trust.
+
+"Skinning. He was careless or crazy, working so close to their ranch
+houses. Nobody that had any sense would take a chance like that,"
+replied Boston, adept at sleight-of-hand with cards and very much in
+demand when a frame-up was to be rung in on some unsuspecting
+stranger. His one great fault in the eyes of his partners was that he
+hated to divvy his winnings and at times had to be coerced into
+sharing equally.
+
+"Aw, them big ranches make me mad," announced the first speaker. "Ten
+years ago there was a lot of little ranchers, an' every one of 'em had
+his own herd, an' plenty of free grass an' water for it. Where are the
+little herds now? Where are the cows that /we/ used to own?" he cried,
+hotly. "What happens to a maverick-hunter now-a-days? By God, if a man
+helps hisself to a pore, sick dogie he's hunted down! It can't go on
+much longer, an' that's shore."
+
+Cries of approbation arose on all sides, for his auditors ignored the
+fact that their kind, by avarice and thievery, had forever killed the
+occupation of maverick-hunting. That belonged to the old days, before
+the demand for cows and their easy and cheap transportation had
+boosted the prices and made them valuable.
+
+Slivers Lowe leaped up from his chair. "Yo're right, Harper! Dead
+right! /I/ was a little cattle owner once, so was you, an' Jerry, an'
+most of us!" Slivers found it convenient to forget that fully half of
+his small herd had perished in the bitter and long winter of five
+years before, and that the remainder had either flowed down his
+parched throat or been lost across the big round table near the bar.
+Not a few of his cows were banked in the east under Harlan's name.
+
+The rear door opened slightly and one of the loungers looked up and
+nodded. "It's all right, Jerry. But get a move on!"
+
+"Here, /you/!" called Harlan, quickly bending over the trap door,
+"/Lively!/"
+
+Jerry was half way to the proprietor when the front door swung open
+and Hopalong, closely followed by the marshal, leaped into the room,
+and immediately thereafter the back door banged open and admitted
+Johnny. Jerry's right hand was in his side coat pocket and Johnny,
+young and self-confident, and with a lot to learn, was certain that he
+could beat the fugitive on the draw.
+
+"I reckon you won't blot no more brands!" he cried, triumphantly,
+watching both Jerry and Harlan.
+
+The card-players had leaped to their feet and at a signal from Harlan
+they surged forward to the bar and formed a barrier between Johnny and
+his friends; and as they did so that puncher jerked at his gun,
+twisting to half face the crowd. At that instant fire and smoke
+spurted from Jerry's side coat pocket and the odor of burning cloth
+arose. As Johnny fell, the rustler ducked low and sprang for the door.
+A gun roared twice in the front of the room and Jerry staggered a
+little and cursed as he gained the opening, but he plunged into the
+darkness and threw himself into the saddle on the first horse he found
+in the small corral.
+
+When the crowd massed, Hopalong leaped at it and strove to tear his
+way to the opening at the end of the bar, while the marshal covered
+Harlan and the others. Finding that he could not get through. Hopalong
+sprang on the shoulder of the nearest man and succeeded in winging the
+fugitive at the first shot, the other going wild. Then, frantic with
+rage and anxiety, he beat his way through the crowd, hammering
+mercilessly at heads with the butt of his Colt, and knelt at his
+friend's side.
+
+Edwards, angered almost to the point of killing, ordered the crowd to
+stand against the wall, and laughed viciously when he saw two men
+senseless on the floor. "Hope he beat in yore heads!" he gritted,
+savagely. "Harlan, put yore paws up in sight or I'll drill you clean!
+Now climb over an' get in line--quick!"
+
+Johnny moaned and opened his eyes. "Did--did I--get him?"
+
+"No; but he gimleted you, all right," Hopalong replied. "You'll come
+'round if you keep quiet." He arose, his face hard with the desire to
+kill. "I'm coming back for /you/, Harlan, after I get yore friend! An'
+all the rest of you pups, too!"
+
+"Get me out of here," whispered Johnny.
+
+"Shore enough, Kid; but keep quiet," replied Hopalong, picking him up
+in his arms and moving carefully towards the door. "We'll get him,
+Johnny; an' all the rest, too, when----" The voice died out in the
+direction of Jackson's and the marshal, backing to the front door,
+slipped out and to one side, running backward, his eyes on the saloon.
+
+"Yore day's about over, Harlan," he muttered. "There's going to be
+some few funerals around here before many hours pass."
+
+When he reached the store he found the owner and two Double-Arrow
+punchers taking care of Johnny. "Where's Hopalong?" he asked.
+
+"Gone to tell his foreman," replied Jackson. "Hey, youngster, you let
+them bandages alone! Hear me?"
+
+"Hullo, Kansas," remarked John Bartlett, foreman of the Double-Arrow.
+"I come nigh getting yore man; somebody rode past me like a streak in
+the dark, so I just ups an' lets drive for luck, an' so did he. I
+heard him cuss an' I emptied my gun after him."
+
+"The rest was a-passing the word along to ride in when I left the
+line," remarked one of the other punchers. "How you feeling now,
+Johnny?"
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVI
+
+                         THE END OF THE TRAIL
+
+The rain slanted down in sheets and the broken plain, thoroughly
+saturated, held the water in pools or sent it down the steep sides of
+the arroyo, to feed the turbulent flood which swept along the bottom,
+foam-flecked and covered with swiftly moving driftwood. Around a bend
+in the arroyo, where the angry water flung itself against the ragged
+bulwark of rock and flashed away in a gleaming line of foam, a
+horseman appeared bending low in the saddle for better protection
+against the storm. He rode along the edge of the stream on the farther
+bank, opposite the steep bluff on the northern side, forcing his
+wounded and jaded horse to keep fetlock deep in the water which
+swirled and sucked about its legs. He was trying his hardest to hide
+his trail. Lower down the hard, rocky ground extended to the water's
+edge, and if he could delay his pursuers for an hour or so, he felt
+that, even with his tired horse, he would have more than an even
+chance.
+
+But they had gained more than he knew. Suddenly above him on the top
+of the steep bluff across the torrent a man loomed up against the
+clouds, peered intently into the arroyo, and then waved his sombrero
+to an unseen companion. A puff of smoke flashed from his shoulder and
+streaked away, the report of the shot lost in the gale. The fugitive's
+horse reared and plunged into the deep water and with its rider was
+swept rapidly towards the bend, the way they had come.
+
+"That makes the fourth time I've missed that coyote!" angrily
+exclaimed Hopalong as Red Connors joined him.
+
+The other quickly raised his rifle and fired; and the horse, spilling
+its rider out of the saddle, floated away tail first. The fugitive,
+gripping his rifle, bobbed and whirled at the whim of the greedy water
+as shots struck near him. Making a desperate effort, he staggered up
+the bank and fell exhausted behind a boulder.
+
+"Well, the coyote is afoot, anyhow," said Red, with great
+satisfaction.
+
+"Yes; but how are we going to get to him?" asked Hopalong. "We can't
+get the cayuses down here, an' we can't swim /that/ water without
+them. An' if we could, he'd pot us easy."
+
+"There's a way out of it somewhere," Red replied, disappearing over
+the edge of the bluff to gamble with Fate.
+
+"Hey! Come back here, you chump!" cried Hopalong, running forward.
+"He'll get you, shore!"
+
+"That's a chance I've got to take if I get him," was the reply.
+
+A puff of smoke sailed from behind the boulder on the other bank and
+Hopalong, kneeling for steadier aim, fired and then followed his
+friend. Red was downstream casting at a rock across the torrent but
+the wind toyed with the heavy, water-soaked /reata/ as though it were
+a string. As Hopalong reached his side a piece of driftwood ducked
+under the water and an angry humming sound died away downstream. As
+the report reached their ears a jet of water spurted up into Red's
+face and he stepped back involuntarily.
+
+"He's so shaky," Hopalong remarked, looking back at the wreath of
+smoke above the boulder. "I reckon I must have hit him harder than I
+thought in Harlan's. Gee! He's wild as blazes!" he yelled as a bullet
+hummed high above his head and struck sharply against the rock wall.
+
+"Yes," Red replied, coiling the rope. "I was trying to rope that rock
+over there. If I could anchor to that, the current would push us over
+quick. But it's too far with this wind blowing."
+
+"We can't do nothing here 'cept get plugged. He'll be getting steadier
+as he rests from his fight with the water," Hopalong remarked, and
+added quickly, "Say, remember that meadow back there a ways? We can
+make her from there, all right."
+
+"Yo're right; that's what we've got to do. He's sending 'em nearer
+every shot--Gee! I could 'most feel the wind of that one. An' blamed
+if it ain't stopped raining. Come on."
+
+They clambered up the slippery, muddy bank to where they had left
+their horses, and cantered back over their trail. Minute after minute
+passed before the cautious skulker among the rocks across the stream
+could believe in his good fortune. When he at last decided that he was
+alone again he left his shelter and started away, with slowly
+weakening stride, over cleanly washed rock where he left no trail.
+
+It was late in the afternoon before the two irate punchers appeared
+upon the scene, and their comments, as they hunted slowly over the
+hard ground, were numerous and bitter. Deciding that it was hopeless
+in that vicinity, they began casting in great circles on the chance of
+crossing the trail further back from the river. But they had little
+faith in their success. As Red remarked, snorting like a horse in his
+disgust, "I'll bet four dollars an' a match he's swum down the river
+clean to hell just to have the laugh on us." Red had long since given
+it up as a bad job, though continuing to search, when a shout from the
+distant Hopalong sent him forward on a run.
+
+"Hey, Red!" cried Hopalong, pointing ahead of them. "Look there! Ain't
+that a house?"
+
+"Naw; course not! It's a--it's a ship!" Red snorted sarcastically.
+"What did you think it might be?"
+
+"G'wan!" retorted his companion. "It's a mission."
+
+"Ah, g'wan yoreself! What's a mission doing up here?" Red snapped.
+
+"What do you think they do? What do they do anywhere?" hotly rejoined
+Hopalong, thinking about Johnny. "There! See the cross?"
+
+"Shore enough!"
+
+"An' there's tracks at last--mighty wobbly, but tracks just the same.
+Them rocks couldn't go on forever. Red, I'll bet he's cashed in by
+this time."
+
+"Cashed nothing! Them fellers don't."
+
+"Well, if he's in that joint we might as well go back home. We won't
+get him, not nohow," declared Hopalong.
+
+"Huh! You wait an' see!" replied Red, pugnaciously.
+
+"Reckon you never run up agin a mission real hard," Hopalong
+responded, his memory harking back to the time he had disagreed with a
+convent, and they both meant about the same to him as far as winning
+out was concerned.
+
+"Think I'm a fool kid?" snapped Red, aggressively.
+
+"Well, you ain't no /kid/."
+
+"You let /me/ do the talking; /I'll/ get him."
+
+"All right; an' I'll do the laughing," snickered Hopalong, at the
+door. "Sic 'em, Red!"
+
+The other boldly stepped into a small vestibule, Hopalong close at his
+heels. Red hitched his holster and walked heavily into a room at his
+left. With the exception of a bench, a table, and a small altar, the
+room was devoid of furnishings, and the effect of these was lost in
+the dim light from the narrow windows. The peculiar, not unpleasant
+odor of burning incense and the dim light awakened a latent reverence
+and awe in Hopalong, and he sneaked off his sombrero, an inexplicable
+feeling of guilt stealing over him. There were three doors in the
+walls, deeply shrouded in the dusk of the room, and it was very hard
+to watch all three at once.
+
+Red was peering into the dark corners, his hand on the butt of his
+Colt, and hardly knew what he was looking for. "This joint must 'a'
+looked plumb good to that coyote, all right. He had a hell of a lot of
+luck, but he won't keep it for long, damn him!" he remarked.
+
+"Quit cussing!" tersely ordered Hopalong. "An' for God's sake, throw
+out that damned cigarette! Ain't you got no manners?"
+
+Red listened intently and then grinned. "Hear that? They're playing
+dominoes in there--come on!"
+
+"Aw, you chump! 'Dominee' means 'mother' in Latin, which is what they
+speaks."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"Hanged if I can tell--I've heard it somewhere, that's all."
+
+"Well, I don't care what it means. This is a frame-up so that coyote
+can get away. I'll bet they gave him a cayuse an' started him off
+while we've been losing time in here. I'm going inside an' ask some
+questions."
+
+Before he could put his plan into execution, Hopalong nudged him and
+he turned to see his friend staring at one of the doors. There had
+been no sound, but he would swear that a monk stood gravely regarding
+them, and he rubbed his eyes. He stepped back suspiciously and then
+started forward again.
+
+"Look here, stranger," he remarked, with quiet emphasis, "we're after
+that cow-lifter, an' we mean to get him. Savvy?"
+
+The monk did not appear to hear him, so he tried another tack. "/Habla
+Espanola?/" he asked, experimentally.
+
+"You have ridden far?" replied the monk in perfect English.
+
+"All the way from the Bend," Red replied, relieved. "We're after Jerry
+Brown. He tried to kill Johnny, an' near made good. An' I reckon we've
+treed him, judging from the tracks."
+
+"And if you capture him?"
+
+"He won't have no more use for no side pocket shooting."
+
+"I see; you will kill him."
+
+"Shore's it's wet outside."
+
+"I'm afraid you are doomed to disappointment."
+
+"Ya-as?" asked Red with a rising inflection.
+
+"You will not want him now," replied the monk.
+
+Red laughed sarcastically and Hopalong smiled.
+
+"There ain't a-going to be no argument about it. Trot him out,"
+ordered Red, grimly.
+
+The monk turned to Hopalong. "Do you, too, want him?"
+
+Hopalong nodded.
+
+"My friends, he is safe from your punishment."
+
+Red wheeled instantly and ran outside, returning in a few moments,
+smiling triumphantly. "There are tracks coming in, but there ain't
+none going away. He's here. If you don't lead us to him we'll shore
+have to rummage around an' poke him out for ourselves: which is it?"
+
+"You are right--he is here, and he is not here."
+
+"We're waiting," Red replied, grinning.
+
+"When I tell you that you will not want him, do you still insist on
+seeing him?"
+
+"We'll see him, an' we'll want him, too."
+
+As the rain poured down again the sound of approaching horses was
+heard, and Hopalong ran to the door in time to see Buck Peters swing
+off his mount and step forward to enter the building. Hopalong stopped
+him and briefly outlined the situation, begging him to keep the men
+outside. The monk met his return with a grateful smile and, stepping
+forward, opened the chapel door, saying, "Follow me."
+
+The unpretentious chapel was small and nearly dark, for the usual
+dimness was increased by the lowering clouds outside. The deep, narrow
+window openings, fitted with stained glass, ran almost to the rough-
+hewn rafters supporting the steep-pitched roof, upon which the heavy
+rain beat again with a sound like that of distant drums. Gusts of rain
+and the water from the roof beat against the south windows, while the
+wailing wind played its mournful cadences about the eaves, and the
+stanch timbers added their creaking notes to swell the dirge-like
+chorus.
+
+At the farther end of the room two figures knelt and moved before the
+white altar, the soft light of flickering candles playing fitfully
+upon them and glinting from the altar ornaments, while before a rough
+coffin, which rested upon two pedestals, stood a third, whose rich,
+sonorous Latin filled the chapel with impressive sadness. "Give
+eternal rest to them, O Lord,"--the words seeming to become a part of
+the room. The ineffably sad, haunting melody of the mass whispered
+back from the room between the assaults of the enraged wind, while
+from the altar came the responses in a low, Gregorian chant, and
+through it all the clinking of the censer chains added intermittent
+notes. Aloft streamed the vapor of the incense, wavering with the air
+currents, now lost in the deep twilight of the sanctuary, and now
+faintly revealed by the glow of the candles, perfuming the air with
+its aromatic odor.
+
+As the last deep-toned words died away the celebrant moved slowly
+around the coffin, swinging the censer over it and then, sprinkling
+the body and making the sign of the cross above its head, solemnly
+withdrew.
+
+From the shadows along the side walls other figures silently emerged
+and grouped around the coffin. Raising it they turned it slowly around
+and carried it down the dim aisle in measured tread, moving silently
+as ghosts.
+
+"He is with God, Who will punish according to his sins," said a low
+voice, and Hopalong started, for he had forgotten the presence of the
+guide. "God be with you, and may you die as he died--repentant and in
+peace."
+
+Buck chafed impatiently before the chapel door leading to a small,
+well-kept graveyard, wondering what it was that kept quiet for so long
+a time his two most assertive men, when he had momentarily expected to
+hear more or less turmoil and confusion.
+
+/C-r-e-a-k!/ He glanced up, gun in hand and raised as the door swung
+slowly open. His hand dropped suddenly and he took a short step
+forward; six black-robed figures shouldering a long box stepped slowly
+past him, and his nostrils were assailed by the pungent odor of the
+incense. Behind them came his fighting punchers, humble, awed,
+reverent, their sombreros in their hands, and their heads bowed.
+
+"What in blazes!" exclaimed Buck, wonder and surprise struggling for
+the mastery as the others cantered up.
+
+"He's cashed," Red replied, putting on his sombrero and nodding toward
+the procession.
+
+Buck turned like a flash and spoke sharply: "Skinny! Lanky! Follow
+that glory-outfit, an' see what's in that box!"
+
+Billy Williams grinned at Red. "Yo're shore pious, Red."
+
+"Shut up!" snapped Red, anger glinting in his eyes, and Billy
+subsided.
+
+Lanky and Skinny soon returned from accompanying the procession.
+
+"I had to look twice to be shore it was him. His face was plumb happy,
+like a baby. But he's gone, all right," Lanky reported.
+
+"Deader'n hell," remarked Skinny, looking around curiously. "This here
+is some shack, ain't it?" he finished.
+
+"All right--he knowed how he'd finish when he began. Now for that dear
+Mr. Harlan," Buck replied, vaulting into the saddle. He turned and
+looked at Hopalong, and his wonder grew. "Hey, /you/! Yes, /you/! Come
+out of that an' put on yore lid! Straddle leather--we can't stay here
+all night."
+
+Hopalong started, looked at his sombrero and silently obeyed. As they
+rode down the trail and around a corner he turned in his saddle and
+looked back; and then rode on, buried in thought.
+
+Billy, grinning, turned and playfully punched him in the ribs.
+"Getting glory, Hoppy?"
+
+Hopalong raised his head and looked him steadily in the eyes; and
+Billy, losing his curiosity and the grin at the same instant, looked
+ahead, whistling softly.
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVII
+
+                          EDWARDS' ULTIMATUM
+
+Edwards slid off the counter in Jackson's store and glowered at the
+pelting rain outside, perturbed and grouchy. The wounded man in the
+corner stirred and looked at him without interest and forthwith
+renewed his profane monologue, while the proprietor, finishing his
+task, leaned back against the shelves and swore softly. It was a
+lovely atmosphere.
+
+"Seems to me they've been gone a long time," grumbled the wounded man.
+"Reckon he led 'em a long chase--had six hours' start, the toad." He
+paused and then as an afterthought said with conviction: "But they'll
+get him--they allus do when they make up their minds to it."
+
+Edwards nodded moodily and Jackson replied with a monosyllable.
+
+"Wish I could 'a' gone with 'em," Johnny growled. "I like to square my
+own accounts. It's allus that way. I get plugged an' my friends clean
+the slate. There was that time Bye-an'-Bye went an' ambushed me--ah,
+the devil! But I tell you one thing: when I get well I'm going down to
+Harlan's an' clean house proper."
+
+"Yo're in hard luck again: that'll be done as soon as yore friends get
+back," Jackson replied, carefully selecting a dried apricot from a box
+on the counter and glancing at the marshal to see how he took the
+remark.
+
+"That'll be done before then," Edwards said crisply, with the air of a
+man who has just settled a doubt. "They won't be back much before
+to-morrow if he headed for the country I think he did. I'm going down
+to the Oasis an' tell that gang to clear out of this town. They've
+been here too long now. I never had 'em dead to rights before, but
+I've got it on 'em this time. I'd 'a' sent 'em packing yesterday only
+I sort of hated to take a man's business away from him an' make him
+lose his belongings. But I've wrastled it all out an' they've got to
+go." He buttoned his coat about him and pulled his sombrero more
+firmly on his head, starting for the door. "I'll be back soon," he
+said over his shoulder as he grasped the handle.
+
+"You better wait till you get help--there's too many down there for
+one man to watch an' handle," Jackson hastily remarked. "Here, I'll go
+with you," he offered, looking for his hat.
+
+Edwards laughed shortly. "You stay here. I do my own work by myself
+when I can--that's what I'm here for, an' I can do this, all right. If
+I took any help they'd reckon I was scared," and the door slammed shut
+behind him.
+
+"He's got sand a plenty," Jackson remarked. "He'd try to push back a
+stampede by main strength if he reckoned it was his duty. It's his
+good luck that he wasn't killed long ago--/I'd/ 'a' been."
+
+"They're a bunch of cowards," replied Johnny. "As long as you ain't
+afraid of 'em, none of 'em wants to start anything. Bunch of sheep!"
+he snorted. "Didn't Jerry shoot me through his pocket?"
+
+"Yes; an' yo're another lucky dog," Jackson responded, having in mind
+that at first Johnny had been thought to be desperately wounded. "Why,
+yore friends have got the worst of this game; they're worse off than
+you are--out all day an' night in this cussed storm."
+
+While they talked Edwards made his way through the cold downpour to
+Harlan's saloon, alone and unafraid, and greatly pleased by the order
+he would give. At last he had proof enough to work on, to satisfy his
+conscience, for the inevitable had come as the culmination of
+continued and clever defiance of law and order.
+
+He deliberately approached the front door of the Oasis and, opening
+it, stepped inside, his hands resting on his guns--he had packed two
+Colts for the last twenty-four hours. His appearance caused a ripple
+of excitement to run around the room. After what had taken place, a
+visit from him could mean only one thing--trouble. And it was entirely
+possible that he had others within call to help him out if necessary.
+
+Harlan knew that he would be the one held responsible and he ceased
+wiping a glass and held the cloth suspended in one hand and the glass
+in the other. "Well?" he snapped, angrily, his eyes smouldering with
+fixed hatred.
+
+"Mebby you think it's well, but it's going to be a blamed sight better
+before sundown to-morrow night," evenly replied the marshal. "I just
+dropped in sort of free-like to tell you to pack up an' get out of
+town before dark--load yore wagon an' vamoose; an' take yore friends
+with you, too. If you don't--" he did not finish in words, for his
+tightening lips made them unnecessary.
+
+"/What!/" yelled Harlan, red with anger. He placed his hands on the
+bar and leaned over it as if to give emphasis to his words. "/Me/ pack
+up an' git! /Me/ leave this shack! Who's going to pay me for it, hey?
+/Me/ leave town! You drop out again an' go back to Kansas where you
+come from--they're easier back there!"
+
+"Well, so far I ain't found nothing very craggy 'round here," retorted
+Edwards, closely watching the muttering crowd by the bar. "Takes more
+than a loud voice an' a pack of sneaking coyotes to send me looking
+for something easier. An' let me tell you this: /You/ stay away from
+Kansas--they hangs people like you back there. That's whatever. You
+pack up an' git out of this town or I'll start a burying plot with you
+on yore own land."
+
+The low, angry buzz of Harlan's friends and their savage, scowling
+faces would have deterred a less determined man; but Edwards knew they
+were afraid of him, and the men on whom he could call to back him up.
+And he knew that there must always be a start, there must be one man
+to show the way; and each of the men he faced was waiting for some one
+else to lead.
+
+"You all slip over the horizon before dark to-night, an' it's dark
+early these days," he continued. "/Don't get restless with yore
+hands!/" he snapped ominously at the crowd. "I means what I say--you
+shake the mud from this town off yore boots before dark--before that
+Bar-20 outfit gets back," he finished meaningly.
+
+Questions, imprecations, and threats filled the room, and the crowd
+began to spread out slowly. His guns came out like a flash and he
+laughed with the elation that comes with impending battle. "The first
+man to start it'll drop," he said evenly. "Who's going to be the
+martyr?"
+
+"I /won't/ leave town!" shouted Harlan. "I'll stay here if I'm killed
+for it!"
+
+"I admire yore loyalty to principle, but you've got damned little
+sense," retorted the marshal. "You ain't no practical man. /Keep yore
+hands where they are!/"--his vibrant voice turned the shifting crowd
+to stone-like rigidity and he backed slowly toward the door, the poor
+light gleaming dully from the polished blue steel of his Colts.
+Rugged, lion-like, charged to the finger tips with reckless courage
+and dare-devil self-confidence, his personality overflowed and
+dominated the room, almost hypnotic in its effect. He was but one
+against many, but he was the master, and they knew it; they had known
+it long enough to accept it without question, and the training now
+stood him in good stead.
+
+For a moment he stood in the open doorway, keenly scrutinizing them
+for signs of danger, his unwavering guns charged with certain death
+and his strong face made stronger by the shadows in its hollows.
+"Before dark!"--and he was gone.
+
+He left behind him deep silence, which endured for several moments.
+
+"By the Lord, I /won't/!" cried Harlan, still staring at the door.
+
+The spell was broken and a babel of voices filled the room, threats
+mingling with excuses, hot, vibrant, profane. These men were not
+cowards all the way through, but only when face to face with the
+master. They had flourished in a way by their wits alone on the same
+range with the outfits of the C-80 and the Double-Arrow, for
+individually they were "bad," and collectively they made a force of no
+mean strength. Edwards had landed among them like a thunderbolt and
+had proved his prowess, and they still held him in awesome respect.
+His reckless audacity and grim singleness of purpose had saved him on
+more than one occasion, for had he wavered once he would have been
+shot down without mercy. But gradually his enforcement of hampering
+laws became more and more intolerable, and their subordinated spirits
+were nearly on the point of revolt. When he faced them they resumed
+their former positions in relation to him--but once out of his sight
+they plotted to destroy him. Here was the crisis: it was now or never.
+They could not evade his ultimatum--it was obey or fight.
+
+Submission was not to be thought of, for to flee would be to lose
+caste, and the story of such an act would follow them wherever they
+went, and brand them as cowards. Here they had lived, and here they
+would stay if possible, and to this end they discussed ways and means.
+
+"Harlan's right!" emphatically announced Laramie Joe. "We can't pull
+out and have this foller us."
+
+"We should have started it with a rush when he was in here," remarked
+Boston, regretfully.
+
+Harlan stopped his pacing and faced them, shoving out a bottle of
+whiskey as an aid to his logic.
+
+"That chance is past, an' I don't know but what it is a good thing,"
+he began. "He was primed an' looking fer trouble, an' he'd shore got a
+few of us afore he went under. What we want is strategy--that's the
+game. You fellers have got as much brains as him, an' if we thrash
+this thing out we can find a way to call his play--an' get him! No use
+of any of us getting plugged 'less we have to. But whatever we do
+we've got to start it right quick an' have it over before that Bar-20
+gang comes back. Harper, you an' Quinn go scouting--an' don't take no
+guns with you, neither. Act like you was hitting the long trail out,
+an' work back here on a circle. See how many of his friends are in
+town. While you are gone the rest of us will hold a pow-wow an' take
+the kinks out of this game. Chase along, an' don't waste no time."
+
+"Good!" cried Slivers Lowe emphatically. "There's blamed few fellers
+in town now that have any use for him, for most of them are off on the
+ranges. Bet we won't have more than six to fight, an' there's that
+many of us here."
+
+The scouts departed at once and the remaining four drew close in
+consultation.
+
+"One more drink around and then no more till this trouble is over,"
+Harlan said, passing the bottle. The drinks, in view of the coming
+drought and the thirsty work ahead, were long and deep, and new
+courage and vindictiveness crept through their veins.
+
+"Now here's the way it looks to me," Harlan continued, placing the
+bottle, untasted by himself, on the floor behind him. "We've got to
+work a surprise an' take Edwards an' his friends off their guard.
+That'll be easy if we're careful, because they think we ain't looking
+for fight. When we get them out of the way we can take Jackson's store
+an' use one of the other shacks and wait for the Bar-20 to ride in.
+They'll canter right in, like they allus do, an' when they get close
+enough we'll open the game with a volley an' make every shot tell. 'T
+won't last long, 'cause every one of us will have his man named before
+they get here. Then the few straddlers in town, seeing how easy we've
+gone an' handled it'll join us. We've got four men to come in yet, an'
+by the time the C-80 an' Double-Arrow hears about it we'll be fixed to
+drive 'em back home. We ought to be over a dozen strong by dark."
+
+"That sounds good, all right," remarked Slivers, thoughtfully, "but
+can we do it that easy?"
+
+"Course we can! We ain't fools, an' we all can shoot as well as them,"
+snapped Laramie Joe, the most courageous of the lot. Laramie had taken
+only one drink, and that a small one, for he was wise enough to
+realize that he needed his wits as keen as he could have them.
+
+"We can do it easy, if Edwards goes under first," hastily replied
+Harlan. "An' me an' Laramie will see to that part of it. If we don't
+get him, you all can hit the trail an' we won't be sore about it. That
+is, unless you are made of the stuff that stands up an' fights 'stead
+of running away. I reckon I ain't none mistaken in any of you. You'll
+all be there when things get hot."
+
+"You can bet the shack /I/ won't do no trail-hitting," growled Boston,
+glancing at Slivers, who squirmed a little under the hint.
+
+"Well, I'm glued to the crowd; you can't lose me, fellers," Slivers
+remarked, re-crossing his legs uneasily. "Are we going to begin it
+from here?"
+
+"We ought to spread out cautions and surround Jackson's, or wherever
+Edwards is," Laramie Joe suggested. "That's my--"
+
+"Yo're right! Now you've hit it plumb on the head!" interrupted
+Harlan, slapping Laramie heartily across the back. "What did I tell
+you about our brains?" he cried, enthusiastically. He had been on the
+point of suggesting that plan of operations when Laramie took the
+words out of his mouth. "I'd never thought of that, Laramie," he lied,
+his face beaming. "Why, we've got 'em licked to a finish right now!"
+
+"This /is/ a hummer of a game," laughed Slivers. "But how about the
+Bar-20 crowd?"
+
+"I've told you that already," replied the proprietor.
+
+"You bet it's a hummer," cried Boston, reaching for the whiskey bottle
+under cover of the excitement and enthusiasm.
+
+Harlan pushed it away with his foot and raised his clenched fist. "Do
+you wonder I didn't think of that plan?" he demanded. "Ain't I been
+too mad to think at all? Hain't I seen my friends treated like dogs,
+an' made to swaller insults when I couldn't raise my hand to stop it?
+Didn't I see Jerry Brown chased out of my place like a wild beast? If
+we are what we've been called, then we'll sneak out of town with our
+tails atween our laigs; but if we're men we'll stay right here an'
+cram the insults down the throats of them that made 'em! If we're
+/men/ let's prove it an' make them liars swaller our lead."
+
+"My sentiments an' allus was!" roared Slivers, slapping Harlan's
+shoulder.
+
+"We're men, all right, an' we'll show 'em it, too!"
+
+At that instant the door opened and four guns covered it before it had
+swung a foot.
+
+"Put 'em down--it's Quinn!" exclaimed the man in the doorway,
+flinching a bit. "All right, Jed," he called over his shoulder to the
+man who crowded him. After Quinn came Big Jed and Harper brought up
+the rear. They had no more than shaken the water from their sombreros
+when the back door let in Charley Rich and his two companions, Frank
+and Tom Nolan. While greetings were being exchanged and the existing
+conditions explained to the newcomers, Harper and Quinn led Harlan to
+one side and reported, the proprietor smiling and nodding his head
+wisely. And while he listened, Slivers surreptitiously corralled the
+whiskey bottle and when the last man finished with it there was
+nothing in it but air.
+
+"Well, boys," exclaimed Harlan, "things are our way. Quinn, here, met
+Joe Barr, of the C-80, who said Converse an' four other fellers, all
+friends of Edwards, stopped at the ranch an' won't be back home till
+the storm stops. Harper saw Fred Neil going back to his ranch, so all
+we've got to figger on is the marshal, Barr, an' Jackson, an' they're
+all in Jackson's store. Lacey might cut in, since he'd sell more
+liquor if I went under, but he can't do very much if he does take a
+hand. Now we'll get right at it." The whole thing was gone over
+thoroughly and in detail, positions assigned and a signal agreed upon.
+Seeing that weapons were in good condition after their long storage in
+the cellar, and that cartridge belts were full, the ten men left the
+room one at a time or in pairs, Harlan and Laramie Joe being the last.
+And both Harlan and Laramie delayed long enough to take the precaution
+of placing horses where they would be handy in case of need.
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XVIII
+
+                            HARLAN STRIKES
+
+Joe Barr laughingly replied to Johnny Nelson's growled remarks about
+the condition of things in general and tried to soothe him, but Johnny
+was unsoothable.
+
+"An' I've been telling him right along that he's got the best of it,"
+complained Jackson in a weary voice. "Got a measly hole through his
+shoulder--good Lord! if it had gone a little lower!" he finished with
+a show of exasperation.
+
+"An' ain't I been telling you all along that it ain't the measly hole
+in my shoulder that's got me on the prod?" retorted Johnny, with more
+earnestness than politeness. "But why couldn't I go with my friends
+after Jerry an' get shot later if I had to get it at all? Look what
+I'm missing, roped an' throwed in this cussed ten-by-ten shack while
+they're having a little excitement."
+
+"Yo're missing some blamed nasty weather, Kid," replied the marshal.
+"You ain't got no kick coming at all. Why, I got soaked clean through
+just going down to the Oasis."
+
+"Well, I'm kicking, just the same," snapped Johnny. "An' furthermore,
+I don't see nobody big enough to stop me, neither--did you all get
+that?"
+
+The rear door opened and Fred Neal looked in. "Hey, Barr; come out an'
+gimme a hand in the corral. Busted my cinch all to pieces half a mile
+out--an' how the devil it ever busted like that is--" the door slammed
+shut and softened his monologue.
+
+"Would you listen to that!" snorted Barr in an injured tone. "Didn't I
+go an' tell him near a month ago that his cussed cinch wouldn't hold
+no better'n a piece of wet paper?" His complaint added materially to
+the atmosphere of sullen discontent pervading the room. "An' now I
+gotter go out in this rain an'--" the slam of the door surpassed
+anything yet attempted in that line of endeavor. Jackson grabbed a can
+of corn as it jarred off the shelf behind him and directed a pleasing
+phrase after the peevish Barr.
+
+"Say, won't somebody please smile?" gravely asked Edwards. "I never
+saw such a happy, cheerful bunch before."
+
+"I might smile if I wasn't so blamed hungry," retorted Johnny.
+"Doesn't anybody ever eat in this town?" he asked in great sarcasm.
+"Mebby a good feed won't do me no good, but I'm going to fill myself
+regardless. An' after that, if the grub don't shock me to death, I'm
+shore going to trim somebody at Ol' Sledge--for two bits a hand."
+
+"If I could play you enough hands at that price I could sell out an'
+live high without working," grinned Jackson, preparing to give the
+reckless invalid all he could eat. "That's purty high, Kid; but I just
+feel real devilish, an' I'm coming in."
+
+"An' I'll go over to my shack, get some money, an' bust the pair of
+you," laughed Edwards, again buttoning his coat and going towards the
+door. "Holy Cats! A log must 'a' got jammed in the sluice-gate up
+there," he muttered, scowling at the black sky. "It's coming down
+harder'n ever, but here goes," and he stepped quickly into the storm.
+
+Jackson paused with a frying pan in his hands and looked through the
+window after the departing marshal, and saw him stagger, stumble
+forward, then jerk out his guns and begin firing. Hard firing now
+burst out in front and Jackson, cursing angrily, dropped the pan and
+reached for his rifle--to drop it also and sink down, struck by the
+bullet which drilled through the window. Johnny let out a yell of
+rage, grabbed his Colt, and ran to the door in time to see Edwards
+slowly raise up on one elbow, fire his last shot, and fall back
+riddled by bullets.
+
+Jackson crawled to his rifle and then to the side window, where he
+propped his back against a box and prepared to do his best. "It was
+shore a surprise," he swore. "An' they went an' got Edwards before he
+could do anything."
+
+"They did not!" retorted Johnny. "He--" the glass in the door vibrated
+sharply and the speaker, stepping to one side out of sight, with a new
+and superficial wound, opened fire on the building down the street.
+Two men were lying on the ground across the street--these Edwards had
+shot--and another was trying to drag himself to the shelter of a
+building. A man sprinted from an old corral close by in a brave and
+foolhardy attempt to save his friend, and Johnny swore because he had
+to fire twice at the same mark.
+
+The rear door crashed open and shut as Barr, closely followed by Neal,
+ran in. They had been caught in the corral but, thanks to Harlan's
+whiskey, had managed to hold their own until they had a chance to make
+a rush for the store.
+
+"Where's the marshal?" cried Barr, catching sight of Jackson. "Are you
+plugged bad?" he asked, anxiously.
+
+"Well, I ain't plugged a whole lot /good/!" snapped Jackson. "An'
+Edwards is dead. They shot him down without warning. We're going to
+get ours, too--these walls don't stop them bullets. How many out
+there?"
+
+"Must be a dozen," hastily replied Neal, who had not remained idle.
+Both he and Barr were working like mad men moving boxes and barrels
+against the walls to make a breastwork capable of stopping the bullets
+which came through the boards.
+
+"I reckon--I'm bleeding inside," Jackson muttered, wearily and without
+hope. "Wonder how--long we--can hold out?"
+
+"We'll hold out till we're good an' dead!" replied Johnny, hotly.
+"They ain't got us yet an' they'll pay for it before they do. If we
+can hold 'em off till Buck an' the rest come back we'll have the
+pleasure of seeing 'em buried."
+
+"Oh, I'll get you next time!" assured Barr to an enemy, slipping a
+fresh cartridge into the Sharps and peering intently at a slight rise
+on the muddy plain. "You shoot like yo're drunk," he mumbled.
+
+"But what is it all about, anyhow?" asked Neal, finding time for an
+immaterial question. "Who are they?--can't see nothing but blurs
+through this rain!"
+
+"Yes; what's the game?" asked Barr, mildly surprised that he had not
+thought of it before.
+
+"It's that Oasis gang," Johnny responded. He fired, and growled with
+disappointment. "Harlan's at the head of it," he added.
+
+"Edwards--told Harlan to--get out of--town," Jackson began.
+
+"An' to take his gang with him," Johnny interposed quickly to save
+Jackson from the strain. "They had till dark. Guess the rest. Oh, you
+/coyote/!" he shouted, staggering back. There was a report farther
+down the barricade and Neal called out, "I got him, Nelson; he's done.
+How are you?"
+
+"Mad! Mad!" yelled Johnny, touching his twice-wounded shoulder and
+dancing with rage and pain. "Right in the same place! Oh, wait!
+/Wait!/ Hey, gimme a rifle--I can't do nothing with a Colt at this
+range; my name ain't Hopalong," and he went slamming around the room
+in hot search of what he wanted.
+
+"There ain't--no more--Johnny," feebly called Jackson, raising
+slightly to ease himself. "You can have--my gun purty--soon. I won't
+be able--to use it--much longer."
+
+"Why don't Buck an' Hoppy hurry up!" snarled Johnny.
+
+"Be a long time--mebby," mumbled Jackson, his trembling hands trying
+to steady the rifle. "They're all--around us. /Ah/, missed!" he
+intoned hoarsely, trying to pump the lever with unobeying hands. "I
+can't last--much--" the words ceased abruptly and the clatter of the
+rifle on the floor told the story.
+
+Johnny stumbled over to him and dragged him aside, covering the
+upturned face with his own sombrero, and picked up the rifle. Rolling
+a barrel of flour against the wall below the window he fixed himself
+as comfortably as possible and threw a shell into the chamber.
+
+"Now, you coyotes; you pay /me/ for /that/!" he gritted, resting the
+gun on the window sill and holding it so he could work it with one
+hand and shoulder.
+
+"Wonder how them pups ever pumped up enough courage to cut loose like
+this?" queried Neal from behind his flour barrel.
+
+"Whiskey," hazarded Barr. "Harlan must 'a' got 'em drunk. An' that's
+three times I've missed that snake. Wish it would stop raining so I
+could see better."
+
+"Why don't you wish they'd all drop dead? Wish good when you wish at
+all: got as much chance of having it come true," responded Neal,
+sarcastically. He smothered a curse and looked curiously at his left
+arm, and from it to the new, yellow-splintered hole in the wall, which
+was already turning dark from the water soaking into it. "Hey, Joe; we
+need some more boxes!" he exclaimed, again looking at his arm.
+
+"Yes," came Johnny's voice. "Three of 'em--five of 'em, an' about six
+feet long an' a foot deep. But if my outfit gets here in time we'll
+want more'n a dozen."
+
+"Say! Lacey's firing now!" suddenly cried Barr. "He's shooting out of
+his windy. That'll stop 'em from rushing us! Good boy, Lacey!" he
+shouted, but Lacey did not hear him in the uproar.
+
+"An' he's worse off than we are, being alone," commented Neal. "Hey!
+One of us better make a break for help--my ranch's the nearest. What
+d'ye say?"
+
+"It's suicide; they'll get you before you get ten feet," Barr replied
+with conviction.
+
+"No; they won't--the corral hides the back door, an' all the firing is
+on this side. I can sneak along the back wall an' by keeping the
+buildings atween me an' them, get a long ways off before they know
+anything about it. Then it's a dash--an' they can't catch me. But can
+you fellers hold out if I do?"
+
+"Two can hold out as good as three--go ahead," Johnny replied. "Leave
+me some of yore Colt cartridges, though. You can't use 'em all before
+you get home."
+
+"Don't stop fer that; there's a shelfful of all kinds behind the
+counter," Barr interposed.
+
+"Well, so long an' good luck," and the rear door closed, and softly
+this time.
+
+"Two hours is some wait under the present circumstances," Barr
+muttered, shifting his position behind his barricade. "He can't do it
+in less, nohow."
+
+Johnny ducked and looked foolish. "Missed me by a foot," he explained.
+"He can't do it in two--not there an' back," he replied. "The trail is
+mud over the fetlocks. Give him three at the least."
+
+"They ain't shooting as much as they was before."
+
+"Waiting till they gets sober, I reckon," Johnny replied.
+
+"If we don't hear no ruction in a few minutes we'll know he got away
+all right," Barr soliloquized. "An' he's got a fine cayuse for mud,
+too."
+
+"Hey, why can't you do the same thing if he makes it?" Johnny suddenly
+asked. "I can hold her alone, all right."
+
+"Yo're a cheerful liar, you are," laughed Barr. "But can /you/ ride?"
+
+"Reckon so, but I ain't a-going to."
+
+"Why, we /both/ can go--it's a cinch!" Barr cried. "Come on!"
+
+"Lord!--an' I never even thought of that! Reckon I was too mad,"
+Johnny replied. "But I sort of hates to leave Jackson an' Edwards," he
+added, sullenly.
+
+"But they're gone! You can't do them no good by staying."
+
+"Yes; I know. An' how about Lacey chipping in on our fight?" demanded
+Johnny. "I ain't a-going to leave him to take it all. You go, Barr; it
+wasn't yore fight, nohow. You didn't even know what you was fighting
+for!"
+
+"Huh! When anybody shoots at me it's my fight, all right," replied
+Barr, seating himself on the floor behind the breastwork. "I forgot
+all about Lacey," he apologized. At that instant a tomato can went
+/spang!/ and fell off the shelf. "An' it's too late, anyhow; they
+ain't a-going to let nobody else get away on that side."
+
+"An' they're tuning up again, too," Johnny replied, preparing for
+trouble. "Look out for a rush, Barr."
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XIX
+
+                         THE BAR-20 RETURNS.
+
+Hopalong Cassidy stopped swearing at the weather and looked up and
+along the trail in front of him, seeing a hard-riding man approach. He
+turned his head and spoke to Buck Peters, who rode close behind him.
+"Somebody's shore in a hurry--why, it's Fred Neal."
+
+It was. Mr. Neal was making his arms move and was also shouting
+something at the top of his voice. The noise of the rain and of the
+horses' hoofs splashing in the mud and water at first made his words
+unintelligible, but it was not long before Hopalong heard something
+which made him sit up even straighter. In a moment Neal was near
+enough to be heard distinctly and the outfit shook itself out of its
+weariness and physical misery and followed its leader at reckless
+speed. As they rode, bunched close together, Neal briefly and
+graphically outlined the relative positions of the combatants, and
+while Buck's more cautious mind was debating the best way to proceed
+against the enemy, Hopalong cried out the plan to be followed. There
+would be no strategy--Johnny, wounded and desperate, was fighting for
+his life. The simplest way was the best--a dash regardless of
+consequences to those making it, for time was a big factor to the two
+men in Jackson's store.
+
+"Ride right at 'em!" Hopalong cried. "I know that bunch. They'll be
+too scared to shoot straight. Paralyze 'em! Three or four are gone now
+--an' the whole crowd wasn't worth one of the men they went out to
+get. The quicker it's over the better."
+
+"Right you are," came from the rear.
+
+"Ride up the arroyo as close as we can get, an' then over the edge an'
+straight at 'em," Buck ordered. "Their shooting an' the rain will
+cover what noise we make on the soft ground. An' boys, /no quarter/!"
+
+"Reckon /not/!" gritted Red, savagely. "Not with Edwards an' Jackson
+dead, an' the Kid fighting for his life!"
+
+"They're still at it!" cried Lanky Smith, as the faint and
+intermittent sound of firing was heard; the driving wind was blowing
+from the town, and this, also, would deaden the noise of their
+approach.
+
+"Thank the Lord! That means that there's somebody left to fight 'em,"
+exclaimed Red. "Hope it's the Kid," he muttered.
+
+"They can't rush the store till they get Lacey, an' they can't rush
+him till they get the store," shouted Neal over his shoulder. "They'd
+be in a cross fire if they tried either--an' that's what licks 'em."
+
+"They'll be in a cross fire purty soon," promised Pete, grimly.
+
+Hopalong and Red reached the edge of the arroyo first and plunged over
+the bank into the yellow storm-water swirling along the bottom like a
+miniature flood. After them came Buck, Neal, and the others, the water
+shooting up in sheets as each successive horse plunged in. Out again
+on the farther side they strung out into single file along the narrow
+foot-hold between water and bank and raced towards the sharp bend some
+hundreds of yards ahead, the point in the arroyo's course nearest the
+town. The dripping horses scrambled up the slippery incline and then,
+under the goading of spurs and quirts, leaped forward as fast as they
+could go across the level, soggy plain.
+
+A quarter of a mile ahead of them lay the scattered shacks of the
+town, and as they drew nearer to it the riders could see the flashes
+of guns and the smoke-fog lying close to the ground. Fire spat from
+Jackson's store and a cloud of smoke still lingered around a window in
+Lacey's saloon. Then a yell reached their ears, a yell of rage,
+consternation and warning. Figures scurried to seek cover and the
+firing from Jackson's and Lacey's grew more rapid.
+
+A mounted man emerged from a corral and tore away, others following
+his example, and the outfit separated to take up the chase
+individually. Harlan, wounded hard, was trying to run to where he had
+left his horse, and after him fled Slivers Lowe. Hopalong was gaining
+on them when he saw Slivers raise his arm and fire deliberately into
+the back of the proprietor of the Oasis, leap over the falling body,
+vault into the saddle of Harlan's horse and gallop for safety.
+Hopalong's shots went wide and the last view any one had of Slivers in
+that part of the country was when he dropped into an arroyo to follow
+it for safety. Laramie Joe fled before Red Connors and Red's rage was
+so great that it spoiled his accuracy, and he had the sorrow of seeing
+the pursued grow faint in the mist and fog. Pursuit was tried until
+the pursuers realized that their mounts were too worn out to stand a
+show against the fresh animals ridden by the survivors of the Oasis
+crowd.
+
+Red circled and joined Hopalong. "Blasted coyotes," he growled.
+"Killed Jackson an' Edwards, an' wanted the Kid! He's shore showed 'em
+what fighting is, all right. But I wonder what got into 'em all at
+once to give 'em nerve enough to start things?"
+
+"Edwards paid his way, all right," replied Hopalong. "If I do as well
+when my time comes I won't do no kicking."
+
+"Yore time ain't coming that way," responded Red, grinning. "You'll
+die a natural death in bed, unless you gets to cussing me."
+
+"Shore there ain't no more, Buck?" Hopalong called.
+
+"Yes. There was only five, I reckon, an' they was purty well shot up
+when we took a hand. You know, Johnny was in it all the time," replied
+the foreman, smiling. "This town's had the cleaning up it's needed for
+some time," he added.
+
+They were at Jackson's store now, and hurriedly dismounted and ran in
+to see Johnny. They found him lying across some boxes, which brought
+him almost to the level of a window sill. He was too weak to stand,
+while near him in similar condition lay Barr, too weak from loss of
+blood to do more than look his welcome.
+
+"How are you, Kid?" cried Buck anxiously, bending over him, while
+others looked to Barr's injuries.
+
+"Tired, Buck, awful tired; an' all shot up," Johnny slowly replied.
+"When I saw you fellers--streak past this windy--I sort of went flat--
+something seemed to break inside me," he said, faintly and with an
+effort, and the foreman ordered him not to talk. Deft fingers,
+schooled by practice in rough and ready surgery, were busy over him
+and in half an hour he lay on Jackson's cot, covered with bandages.
+
+"Why, hullo, Lacey!" exclaimed Hopalong, leaping forward to shake
+hands with the man Red and Billy had gone to help. "Purty well
+scratched up, but lively yet, hey?"
+
+"I'm able to hobble over here an' shake han's with these scrappers--
+they're shore wonders," Lacey replied. "Fought like a whole regiment!
+Hullo, Johnny!" and his hand-clasp told much.
+
+"Yore cross fire did it, Lacey; that was the whole thing," Johnny
+smiled. "Yo're all right!"
+
+Red turned and looked out of the window toward the Oasis and then
+glanced at Buck. "Reckon we better burn Harlan's place--it's all
+that's left of that gang now," he suggested.
+
+"Why, yes; I reckon so," replied the foreman. "That's as--"
+
+"No, we won't!" Hopalong interposed quickly. "That stands till Johnny
+sets it off. It's the Kid's celebration--he was shot in it."
+
+Johnny smiled.
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XX
+
+                              BARB WIRE
+
+After the flurry at Perry's Bend the Bar-20 settled down to the calm
+routine work and sent several drive herds to their destination without
+any unusual incidents. Buck thought that the last herd had been driven
+when, late in the summer, he received an order that he made haste to
+fill. The outfit was told to get busy and soon rounded up the
+necessary number of three-year-olds. Then came the road branding, the
+final step except inspection, and this was done not far from the ranch
+house, where the facilities were best for speedy work.
+
+Entirely recovered from all ill effects of his afternoon in Jackson's
+store up in Perry's bend, Johnny Nelson waited with Red Connors on the
+platform of the branding chute and growled petulantly at the sun, the
+dust, but most of all at the choking, smarting odor of burned hair
+which filled their throats and caused them to rub the backs of grimy
+hands across their eyes. Chute-branding robbed them of the excitement,
+the leaven of fun and frolic, which they always took from open or
+corral branding--and the work of a day in the corral or open was
+condensed into an hour or two by the chute. This was one cow wide,
+narrow at the bottom and flared out as it went up, so the animal could
+not turn, and when filled was, to use Johnny's graphic phrase, "like a
+chain of cows in a ditch." Eight of the wondering and crowded animals,
+guided into the pen by men who knew their work to the smallest detail
+and lost no time in its performance, filed into the pen after those
+branded had filed out. As the first to enter reached the farther end a
+stout bar dropped into place, just missing the animal's nose; and as
+the last cow discovered that it could go no farther and made up its
+mind to back out, it was stopped by another bar, which fell behind it.
+The iron heaters tossed a hot iron each to Red and Johnny and the
+eight were marked in short order, making about two hundred and fifty
+they had branded in three hours. This number compared very favorably
+with that of the second chute where Lanky Smith and Frenchy McAlister
+waved cold irons and sarcastically asked their iron men if the sun was
+supposed to provide the heat; whereat the down-trodden heaters
+provided heat with great generosity in their caustic retorts.
+
+"Oh, Susanna, don't you cry for me," sang Billy Williams, one of the
+feeders. "But why in Jericho don't you fellers get a move on you? You
+ain't no good on the platform--you ought to be mixing biscuits for
+Cookie. Frenchy and Lanky are the boys to turn 'em out," he offered,
+gratis.
+
+Red's weary air bespoke a vast and settled contempt for such inanities
+and his iron descended against the side of the victim below him--he
+would not deign to reply. Not so with Johnny, who could not refrain
+from hot retort.
+
+"Don't be a fool /all/ the time," snapped Johnny. "Mind yore own
+business, you shorthorn. Big-mouthed old woman, that's what--" his
+tone dropped and the words sank into vague mutterings which a
+strangling cough cut short. "Blasted idiot," he whispered, tears
+coming into his eyes at the effort. Burning hair is bad for throat and
+temper alike.
+
+Red deftly knocked his companion's iron up and spoke sharply. "You
+mind yourn better--that makes the third you've tried to brand twice.
+Why don't you look what yo're doing? Hot iron! Hot iron! What're you
+fellers doing?" he shouted down at the heaters. "This ain't no time to
+go to sleep. How d'ye expect us to do any work when you ain't doing
+any yoreselves!" Red's temper was also on the ragged edge.
+
+"You've got one in yore other hand, you sheep!" snorted one of the
+iron heaters with restless pugnacity. "Go tearing into us when you--"
+he growled the rest and kicked viciously at the fire.
+
+"Lovely bunch," grinned Billy who, followed by Pete Wilson, mounted
+the platform to relieve the branders. "Chase yoreselves--me an' Pete
+are shore going to show you cranky bugs how to do a hundred an hour.
+Ain't we, Pete? An' look here, you," he remarked to the heaters,
+"don't you fellers keep /us/ waiting for hot irons!"
+
+"That's right! Make a fool out of yoreself first thing!" snapped one
+of the pair on the ground.
+
+"Billy, I never loved you as much as I do this minute," grinned Johnny
+wearily. "Wish you'd 'a' come along to show us how to do it an hour
+ago."
+
+"I would, only--"
+
+"Quit chinning an' get busy," remarked Red, climbing down. "The
+chute's full; an' it's all yourn."
+
+Billy caught the iron, gave it a preliminary flourish, and started to
+work with a speed that would not endure for long. He branded five out
+of the eight and jeered at his companion for being so slow.
+
+"Have yore fun now, Billy," Pete replied with placid good nature.
+"Before we're through with this job you'll be lucky if you can do two
+of the string, if you keep up that pace."
+
+"He'll be missing every other one," growled his heater with
+overflowing malice. "That iron ain't cold, you Chinaman!"
+
+"Too cold for me--don't miss none," chuckled Billy sweetly. "Fill the
+chute! Fill the chute! Don't keep us waiting!" he cried to the
+guiders, hopping around with feigned eagerness and impatience.
+
+Hopalong Cassidy rode up and stopped as Red returned to take the place
+of one of the iron heaters. "How they coming, Red?" he inquired.
+
+"Fast. You can sic that inspector on 'em the first thing to-morrow
+morning, if he gets here on time. Bet he's off som'ers getting full of
+redeye. Who're going with you on this drive?"
+
+"The inspector is all right--he's here now an' is going to spend the
+night with us so as to be on hand the first thing to-morrow," replied
+Hopalong, grinning at the hard-working pair on the platform. "Why, I
+reckon I'll take you, Johnny, Lanky, Billy, Pete, an' Skinny, an'
+we'll have two hoss-wranglers an' a cook, of course. We'll drive up
+the right-hand trail through West Valley this time. It's longer, but
+there'll be more water that way at this time of the year. Besides, I
+don't want no more foot-sore cattle to nurse along. Even the West
+Valley trail will be dry enough before we strike Bennett's Creek."
+
+"Yes; we'll have to drive 'em purty hard till we reach the creek,"
+replied Red, thoughtfully. "Say; we're going to have three thousand of
+the finest three-year-old steers ever sent north out of these parts.
+An' we ought to do it in a month an' deliver 'em fat an' frisky. We
+can feed 'em good for the last week."
+
+"I just sent some of the boys out to drive in the cayuses," Hopalong
+remarked, "an' when they get here you fellers match for choice an'
+pick yore remuda. No use taking too few. About eight apiece'll do us
+nice. I shore like a good cavvieyeh."
+
+"Hullo, Hoppy!" came from the platform as Billy grinned his welcome
+through the dust on his face. "Want a job?"
+
+"Hullo yoreself," growled Pete. "Stick yore iron on that fourth steer
+before he gets out, an' talk less with yore mouth."
+
+"Pete's still rabid," called Billy, performing the duty Pete
+suggested.
+
+"That may be the polite name for it," snorted one of the iron heaters,
+testing an iron, "but that ain't what I'd say. Might as well cover the
+subject thoroughly while yo're on it."
+
+"Yes, verily," endorsed his companion.
+
+"Here comes the last of 'em," smiled Pete, watching several cattle
+being driven towards the chute. "We'll have to brand 'em on the move,
+Billy; there ain't enough to fill the chute."
+
+"All right; hot iron, you!"
+
+Early the next morning the inspector looked them over and made his
+count, the herd was started north and at nightfall had covered twelve
+miles. For the next week everything went smoothly, but after that,
+water began to be scarce and the herd was pushed harder, and became
+harder to handle.
+
+On the night of the twelfth day out four men sat around the fire in
+West Valley at a point a dozen miles south of Bennett's Creek, and ate
+heartily. The night was black--not a star could be seen and the south
+wind hardly stirred the trampled and burned grass. They were
+thoroughly tired out and their tempers were not in the sweetest state
+imaginable, for the heat during the last four days had been almost
+unbearable even to them and they had had their hands full with the
+cranky herd. They ate silently, hungrily--there would be time enough
+for the few words they had to say when the pipes were going for a
+short smoke before turning in.
+
+"I feel like hell," growled Red, reaching for another cup of coffee,
+but there was no reply; he had voiced the feelings of all.
+
+Hopalong listened intently and looked up, staring into the darkness,
+and soon a horseman was seen approaching the fire. Hopalong nodded
+welcome and waved his hand towards the food, and the stranger,
+dismounting, picketed his horse and joined the circle. When the pipes
+were lighted he sighed with satisfaction and looked around the group.
+"Driving north, I see."
+
+"Yes; an' blamed glad to get off this dry range," Hopalong replied.
+"The herd's getting cranky an' hard to hold--but when we pass the
+creek everything'll be all right again. An' ain't it hot! When you
+hear us kick about the heat it means something."
+
+"I'm going yore way," remarked the stranger. "I came down this trail
+about two weeks ago. Reckon I was the last to ride through before the
+fence went up. Damned outrage, says I, an' I told 'em so, too. They
+couldn't see it that way an' we had a little disagreement about it.
+They said as how they was going to patrol it."
+
+"Fence! What fence?" exclaimed Red.
+
+"Where's there any fence?" demanded Hopalong sharply.
+
+"Twenty mile north of the creek," replied the stranger, carefully
+packing his pipe.
+
+"What? Twenty miles north of the creek?" cried Hopalong. "What creek?"
+
+"Bennett's. The 4X has strung three strands of barb wire from Coyote
+Pass to the North Arm. Thirty mile long, without a gate, so they
+says."
+
+"But it don't close this trail!" cried Hopalong in blank astonishment.
+
+"It shore does. They say they owns that range an' can fence it in all
+they wants. I told 'em different, but naturally they didn't listen to
+me. An' they'll fight about it, too."
+
+"But they /can't/ shut off this trail!" exclaimed Billy, with angry
+emphasis. "They don't own it no more'n we do!"
+
+"I know all about that--you heard me tell you what they said."
+
+"But how can we get past it?" demanded Hopalong.
+
+"Around it, over the hills. You'll lose about three days doing it,
+too."
+
+"I can't take no sand-range herd over them rocks, an' I ain't going to
+drive 'round no North Arm or Coyote Pass if I could," Hopalong replied
+with quiet emphasis. "There's poison springs on the east an' nothing
+but rocks on the west. We go straight through."
+
+"I'm afraid that you'll have to fight if you do," remarked the
+stranger.
+
+"Then we'll fight!" cried Johnny, leaning forward. "Blasted coyotes!
+What right have they got to block a drive trail that's as old as
+cattle-raising in these parts! That trail was here before I was born,
+it's allus been open, an' it's going to stay open! You watch us go
+through!"
+
+"Yo're dead right, Kid; we'll cut that fence an' stick to this trail,
+an' fight if we has to," endorsed Red. "The Bar-20 ain't crawling out
+of no hole that it can walk out of. They're bluffing; that's all."
+
+"I don't think they are; an' there's twelve men in that outfit,"
+suggested the stranger, offhand.
+
+"We ain't got time to count odds; we never do down our way when we
+know we're right. An' we're right enough in this game," retorted
+Hopalong, quickly. "For the last twelve days we've had good luck,
+barring the few on this dry range; an' now we're in for the other
+kind. By the Lord, I wish we was here without the cows to take care of
+--we'd show 'em something about blocking drive trails that ain't in
+their little book!"
+
+"Blast it all! Wire fences coming down this way now," mused Johnny,
+sullenly. He hated them by training as much as he hated horse-thieves
+and sheep; and his companions had been brought up in the same school.
+Barb wire, the death-knell to the old-time punching, the bar to riding
+at will, a steel insult to fire the blood--it had come at last.
+
+"We've shore got to cut it, Red,--" began Hopalong, but the cook had
+to rid himself of some of his indignation and interrupted with heat.
+
+"Shore we have!" came explosively from the tail board of the chuck
+wagon. "Got to lay it agin my li'l axe an' swat it with my big ol'
+monkey wrench! An' won't them posts save me a lot of trouble hunting
+chips an' firewood!"
+
+"We've shore got to cut it, Red," Hopalong repeated slowly. "You an'
+Johnny an' me'll ride ahead after we cross the creek to-morrow an' do
+it. I don't hanker after no fight with all these cows on my han's, but
+we've got to risk one."
+
+"Shore!" cried Johnny, hotly. "I can't get over the gall of them
+fellers closing up the West Valley drive trail. Why, I never heard
+tell of such a thing afore!"
+
+"We're short-handed; we ought to have more'n we have to guard the herd
+if there's a fight. If it stampedes--oh, well, that'll work out
+to-morrow. The creek's only about twelve miles away an' we'll start at
+daylight, so tumble in," Hopalong said as he arose. "Red, I'm going
+out to take my shift--I'll send Pete in. Stranger," he added, turning,
+"I'm much obliged to you for the warning. They might 'a' caught us
+with our hands tied."
+
+"Oh, that's all right," hastily replied the stranger, who was in
+hearty accord with the plans, such as they were. "My name's Hawkins,
+an' I don't like range fences no more'n you do. I used to hunt buffalo
+all over this part of the country before they was all killed off, an'
+I allus rode where I pleased. I'm purty old, but I can still see an'
+shoot; an' I'm going to stick right along with you fellers an' see it
+through. Every man counts in this game."
+
+"Well, that's blamed white of you," Hopalong replied, greatly pleased
+by the other's offer. "But I can't let you do it. I don't want to drag
+you into no trouble, an'--"
+
+"You ain't dragging me none; I'm doing it myself. I'm about as mad as
+you are over it. I ain't good for much no more, an' if I shuffles off
+fighting barb wire I'll be doing my duty. First it was nesters, then
+railroads an' more nesters, then sheep, an' now it's wire--won't it
+never stop? By the Lord, it's got to stop, or this country will go to
+the devil an' won't be fit to live in. Besides, I've heard of your
+fellers before--I'll tie to the Bar-20 any day."
+
+"Well, I reckon you must if you must; yo're welcome enough," laughed
+Hopalong, and he strode off to his picketed horse, leaving the others
+to discuss the fence, with the assistance of the cook, until Pete rode
+in.
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXI
+
+                              THE FENCE
+
+When Hopalong rode in at midnight to arouse the others and send them
+out to relieve Skinny and his two companions, the cattle were quieter
+than he had expected to leave them, and he could see no change of
+weather threatening. He was asleep when the others turned in, or he
+would have been further assured in that direction.
+
+Out on the plain where the herd was being held, Red and the three
+other guards had been optimistic until half of their shift was over
+and it was only then that they began to worry. The knowledge that
+running water was only twelve miles away had the opposite effect than
+the one expected, for instead of making them cheerful, it caused them
+to be beset with worry and fear. Water was all right, and they could
+not have got along without it for another day; but it was, in this
+case, filled with the possibility of grave danger.
+
+Johnny was thinking hard about it as he rode around the now restless
+herd, and then pulled up suddenly, peered into the darkness and went
+on again. "Damn that disreputable li'l rounder! Why the devil can't he
+behave, 'stead of stirring things up when they're ticklish?" he
+muttered, but he had to grin despite himself. A lumbering form had
+blundered past him from the direction of the camp and was swallowed up
+by the night as it sought the herd, annoying and arousing the thirsty
+and irritable cattle along its trail, throwing challenges right and
+left and stirring up trouble as it passed. The fact that the
+challenges were bluffs made no difference to the pawing steers, for
+they were anxious to have things out with the rounder.
+
+This frisky disturber of bovine peace was a yearling that had slipped
+into the herd before it left the ranch and had kept quiet and
+respectable and out of sight in the middle of the mass for the first
+few days and nights. But keeping quiet and respectable had been an
+awful strain, and his mischievous deviltry grew constantly harder to
+hold in check. Finally he could stand the repression no longer, and
+when he gave way to his accumulated energy it had the snap and ginger
+of a tightly stretched rubber band recoiling on itself. On the fourth
+night out he had thrown off his mask and announced his presence in his
+true light by butting a sleepy steer out of its bed, which bed he
+straightway proceeded to appropriate for himself. This was folly, for
+the ground was not cold and he had no excuse for stealing a body-
+warmed place to lie down; it was pure cussedness, and retribution
+followed hard upon the act. In about half a minute he had discovered
+the great difference between bullying poor, miserable, defenceless
+dogies and trying to bully a healthy, fully developed, and pugnacious
+steer. After assimilating the preliminary punishment of what promised
+to be the most thorough and workmanlike thrashing he had ever known,
+the indignant and frightened bummer wheeled and fled incontinently
+with the aroused steer in angry pursuit. The best way out was the most
+puzzling to the vengeful steer, so the bummer cavorted recklessly
+through the herd, turning and twisting and doubling, stepping on any
+steer that happened to be lying down in his path, butting others, and
+leavening things with great success. Under other conditions he would
+have relished the effect of his efforts, for the herd had arisen as
+one animal and seemed to be debating the advisability of stampeding;
+but he was in no mood to relish anything and thought only of getting
+away. Finally escaping from his pursuer, that had paused to fight with
+a belligerent brother, he rambled off into the darkness to figure it
+all out and to maintain a sullen and chastened demeanor for the rest
+of the night. This was the first time a brick had been under the hat.
+
+But the spirits of youth recover quickly--his recovered so quickly
+that he was banished from the herd the very next night, which
+banishment, not being at all to his liking, was enforced only by rigid
+watchfulness and hard riding; and he was roundly cursed from dark to
+dawn by the worried men, most of whom disliked the bumming youngster
+less than they pretended. He was only a cub, a wild youth having his
+fling, and there was something irresistibly likable and comical in his
+awkward antics and eternal persistence, even though he was a pest.
+Johnny saw more in him than his companions could find, and had quite a
+little sport with him: he made fine practice for roping, for he was
+about as elusive as a grasshopper and uncertain as a flea. Johnny was
+in the same general class and he could sympathize with the
+irrepressible nuisance in its efforts to stir up a little life and
+excitement in so dull a crowd; Johnny hoped to be as successful in his
+mischievous deviltry when he reached the town at the end of the drive.
+
+But to-night it was dark, and the bummer gained his coveted goal with
+ridiculous ease, after which he started right in to work off the high
+pressure of the energy he had accumulated during the last two nights.
+He had desisted in his efforts to gain the herd early in the evening
+and had rambled off and rested during the first part of the night, and
+the herders breathed softly lest they should stir him to renewed
+trials. But now he had succeeded, and although only Johnny had seen
+him lumber past, the other three guards were aware of it immediately
+by the results and swore in their throats, for the cattle were now on
+their feet, snorting and moving about restlessly, and the rattling of
+horns grew slowly louder.
+
+"Ain't he having a devil of a good time!" grinned Johnny. But it was
+not long before he realized the possibilities of the bummer's efforts
+and he lost his grin. "If we get through the night without trouble
+I'll see that you are picketed if it takes me all day to get you," he
+muttered. "Fun is fun, but it's getting a little too serious for
+comfort."
+
+Sometime after the middle of the second shift the herd, already
+irritable, nervous, and cranky because of the thirst they were
+enduring, and worked up to the fever pitch by the devilish manoeuvres
+of the exuberant and hard-working bummer, wanted only the flimsiest
+kind of an excuse to stampede, and they might go without an excuse. A
+flash of lightning, a crash of thunder, a wind-blown paper, a flapping
+wagon cover, the sudden and unheralded approach of a careless rider,
+the cracking and flare of a match, or the scent of a wolf or coyote--
+or water, would send an avalanche of three thousand crazed steers
+crashing its irresistible way over a pitch-black plain.
+
+Red had warned Pete and Billy, and now he rode to find Johnny and send
+him to camp for the others. As he got halfway around the circle he
+heard Johnny singing a mournful lay, and soon a black bulk loomed up
+in the dark ahead of him. "That you, Kid?" he asked. "That you,
+Johnny?" he repeated, a little louder.
+
+The song stopped abruptly. "Shore," replied Johnny. "We're going to
+have trouble aplenty to-night. Glad daylight ain't so very far off.
+That cussed li'l rake of a bummer got by me an' into the herd. He's
+shore raising Ned to-night, the li'l monkey: it's getting serious,
+Red."
+
+"I'll shoot that yearling at daylight, damn him!" retorted Red. "I
+should 'a' done it a week ago. He's picked the worst time for his
+cussed devilment! You ride right in an' get the boys, an' get 'em out
+here quick. The whole herd's on its toes waiting for the signal; an'
+the wink of an eye'll send 'em off. God only knows what'll happen
+between now and daylight! If the wind should change an' blow down from
+the north, they'll be off as shore as shooting. One whiff of Bennett's
+Creek is all that's needed, Kid; an'--"
+
+"Oh, pshaw!" interposed Johnny. "There ain't no wind at all now. It's
+been quiet for an hour."
+
+"Yes; an' that's one of the things that's worrying me. It means a
+change, shore."
+
+"Not always; we'll come out of this all right," assured Johnny, but he
+spoke without his usual confidence. "There ain't no use--" he paused
+as he felt the air stir, and he was conscious of Red's heavy
+breathing. There was a peculiar hush in the air that he did not like,
+a closeness that sent his heart up in his throat, and as he was about
+to continue a sudden gust snapped his neck-kerchief out straight. He
+felt that refreshing coolness which so often precedes a storm and as
+he weighed it in his mind a low rumble of thunder rolled in the north
+and sent a chill down his back.
+
+"Good God! Get the boys!" cried Red, wheeling. "It's /changed/! An'
+Pete an' Billy out there in front of--/there they go/!" he shouted as
+a sudden tremor shook the earth and a roaring sound filled the air. He
+was instantly lost to ear and eye, swallowed by the oppressive
+darkness as he spurred and quirted into a great, choking cloud of dust
+which swept down from the north, unseen in the night. The deep thunder
+of hoofs and the faint and occasional flash of a six-shooter told him
+the direction, and he hurled his mount after the uproar with no
+thought of the death which lurked in every hole and rock and gully on
+the uneven and unseen plain beneath him. His mouth and nose were lined
+with dust, his throat choked with it, and he opened his burning eyes
+only at intervals, and then only to a slit, to catch a fleeting glance
+of--nothing. He realized vaguely that he was riding north, because the
+cattle would head for water, but that was all, save that he was
+animated by a desperate eagerness to gain the firing line, to join
+Pete and Billy, the two men who rode before that crazed mass of horns
+and hoofs and who were pleading and swearing and yelling in vain only
+a few feet ahead of annihilation--if they were still alive. A stumble,
+a moment's indecision, and the avalanche would roll over them as if
+they were straws and trample them flat beneath the pounding hoofs, a
+modern Juggernaut. If he, or they, managed to escape with life, it
+would make a good tale for the bunk house some night; if they were
+killed it was in doing their duty--it was all in a day's work.
+
+Johnny shouted after him and then wheeled and raced towards the camp,
+emptying his Colt in the air as a warning. He saw figures scurrying
+across the lighted place, and before he had gained it his friends
+raced past him and gave him hard work catching up to them. And just
+behind him rode the stranger, to do what he could for his new friends,
+and as reckless of consequences as they.
+
+It seemed an age before they caught up to the stragglers, and when
+they realized how true they had ridden in the dark they believed that
+at last their luck was turning for the better, and pushed on with
+renewed hope. Hopalong shouted to those nearest him that Bennett's
+Creek could not be far away and hazarded the belief that the steers
+would slow up and stop when they found the water they craved; but his
+words were lost to all but himself.
+
+Suddenly the punchers were almost trapped and their escape made
+miraculous, for without warning the herd swerved and turned sharply to
+the right, crossing the path of the riders and forcing them to the
+east, showing Hopalong their silhouettes against the streak of pale
+gray low down in the eastern sky. When free from the sudden press of
+cattle they slowed perceptibly, and Hopalong did likewise to avoid
+running them down. At that instant the uproar took on a new note and
+increased threefold. He could hear the shock of impact, whip-like
+reports, the bellowing of cattle in pain, and he arose in his stirrups
+to peer ahead for the reason, seeing, as he did so, the silhouettes of
+his friends arise and then drop from his sight. Without additional
+warning his horse pitched forward and crashed to the earth, sending
+him over its head. Slight as was the warning it served to ease his
+fall, for instinct freed his feet from the stirrups, and when he
+struck the ground it was feet first, and although he fell flat at the
+next instant, the shock had been broken. Even as it was, he was partly
+stunned, and groped as he arose on his hands and knees. Arising
+painfully he took a short step forward, tripped and fell again; and
+felt a sharp pain shoot through his hand as it went first to break the
+fall. Perhaps it was ten seconds before he knew what it was that had
+thrown him, and when he learned that he also learned the reason for
+the whole calamity--in his torn and bleeding hand he held a piece of
+barb wire.
+
+"Barb wire!" he muttered, amazed. "Barb wire! Why, what the-- /Damn
+that ranch/!" he shouted, sudden rage sweeping over him as the
+situation flashed through his mind and banished all the mental effects
+of the fall. "They've gone an' strung it south of the creek as well!
+Red! Johnny! Lanky!" he shouted at the top of his voice, hoping to be
+heard over the groaning of injured cattle and the general confusion.
+"Good Lord! /are they killed/!"
+
+They were not, thanks to the forced slowing up, and to the pool of
+water and mud which formed an arm of the creek, a back-water away from
+the pull of the current. They had pitched into the mud and water up to
+their waists, some head first, some feet first, and others as they
+would go into a chair. Those who had been fortunate enough to strike
+feet first pulled out the divers, and the others gained their feet as
+best they might and with varying degrees of haste, but all mixed
+profanity and thankfulness equally well; and were equally and
+effectually disguised.
+
+Hopalong, expecting the silence of death or at least the groaning of
+injured and dying, was taken aback by the fluent stream of profanity
+which greeted his ears. But all efforts in that line were eclipsed
+when the drive foreman tersely explained about the wire, and the
+providential mud bath was forgotten in the new idea. They forthwith
+clamored for war, and the sooner it came the better they would like
+it.
+
+"Not now, boys; we've got work to do first," replied Hopalong, who,
+nevertheless, was troubled grievously by the same itching trigger
+finger. They subsided--as a steel spring subsides when held down by a
+weight--and went off in search of their mounts. Daylight had won the
+skirmish in the east and was now attacking in force, and revealed a
+sight which, stilling the profanity for the moment, caused it to flow
+again with renewed energy. The plain was a shambles near the creek,
+and dead and dying steers showed where the fence had stood. The rest
+of the herd had passed over these. The wounded cattle and three horses
+were put out of their misery as the first duty. The horse that
+Hopalong had ridden had a broken back; the other two, broken legs.
+When this work was out of the way the bruised and shaken men gave
+their attention to the scattered cattle on the other side of the
+creek, and when Hawkins rode up after wasting time in hunting for the
+trail in the dark, he saw four men with the herd, which was still
+scattered; four others near the creek, of whom only Johnny was
+mounted, and a group of six strangers riding towards them from the
+west and along the fence, or what was left of that portion of it.
+
+"That's awful!" he cried, stopping his limping horse near Hopalong.
+"An' here come the fools that done it."
+
+"Yes," replied Johnny, his voice breaking from rage, "but they won't
+go back again! I don't care if I'm killed if I can get one or two of
+that crowd--"
+
+"Shut up, Kid!" snapped Hopalong as the 4X outfit drew near. "I know
+just how you feel about it; feel that way myself. But there ain't a-
+going to be no fighting while I've got these cows on my han's. That
+gang'll be here when we come back, all right."
+
+"Mebby one or two of 'em won't," remarked Hawkins, as he looked again
+over the carnage along the fence. "I never did much pot-shooting,
+'cept agin Injuns; but I dunno--" He did not finish, for the strangers
+were almost at his elbow.
+
+Cranky Joe led the 4X contingent and he did the talking for it without
+waste of time. "Who the hell busted that fence?" he demanded,
+belligerently, looking around savagely. Johnny's hand twitched at the
+words and the way they were spoken.
+
+"I did; did you think somebody leaned agin it?" replied Hopalong, very
+calmly,--so calmly that it was about one step short of an explosion.
+
+"Well, why didn't you go around?"
+
+"Three thousand stampeding cattle don't go 'round wire fences in the
+dark."
+
+"Well, that's not our fault. Reckon you better dig down an' settle up
+for the damages, an' half a cent a head for water; an' then go 'round.
+You can't stampede through the other fence."
+
+"That so?" asked Hopalong.
+
+"Reckon it is."
+
+"Yo're real shore it is?"
+
+"Well there's only six of us here, but there's six more that we can
+get blamed quick if we need 'em. It's so, all right."
+
+"Well, coming down to figures, there's eight here, with two hoss-
+wranglers an' a cook to come," retorted Hopalong, kicking the
+belligerent Johnny on the shins. "We're just about mad enough to
+tackle anything: ever feel that way?"
+
+"Oh, no use getting all het up," rejoined Cranky Joe. "We ain't a-
+going to fight 'less we has to. Better pay up."
+
+"Send yore bills to the ranch--if they're O. K., Buck'll pay 'em."
+
+"Nix; I take it when I can get it."
+
+"I ain't got no money with me that I can spare."
+
+"Then you can leave enough cows to buy back again."
+
+"I'm not going to pay you one damned cent, an' the only cows I'll
+leave are the dead ones--an' if I could take them with me I'd do it.
+An' I'm not going around the fence, neither."
+
+"Oh, yes; you are. An' yo're going to pay," snapped Cranky Joe.
+
+"Take it out of the price of two hundred dead cows an' gimme what's
+left," Hopalong retorted. "It'll cost you nine of them twelve men to
+pry it out'n me."
+
+"You won't pay?" demanded the other, coldly.
+
+"Not a plugged peso."
+
+"Well, as I said before, I don't want to fight nobody 'less I has to,"
+replied Cranky Joe. "I'll give you a chance to change yore mind. We'll
+be out here after it to-morrow, cash or cows. That'll give you twenty-
+four hours to rest yore herd an' get ready to drive. Then you pay, an'
+go back, 'round the fence."
+
+"All right; to-morrow suits me," responded Hopalong, who was boiling
+with rage and felt constrained to hold it back. If it wasn't for the
+cows--!
+
+Red and three companions swept up and stopped in a swirl of dust and
+asked questions until Hopalong shut them up. Their arrival and the
+manner of their speech riled Cranky Joe, who turned around and loosed
+one more remark; and he never knew how near to death he was at that
+moment.
+
+"You fellers must own the earth, the way you act," he said to Red and
+his three companions.
+
+"We ain't fencing it in to prove it," rejoined Hopalong, his hand on
+Red's arm.
+
+Cranky Joe wheeled to rejoin his friends. "To-morrow," he said,
+significantly.
+
+Hopalong and his men watched the six ride away, too enraged to speak
+for a moment. Then the drive foreman mastered himself and turned to
+Hawkins. "Where's their ranch house?" he demanded, sharply. "There
+must be some way out of this, an' we've got to find it; an' before
+to-morrow."
+
+"West; three hours' ride along the fence. I could find 'em the darkest
+night what ever happened; I was out there once," Hawkins replied.
+
+"Describe 'em as exact as you can," demanded Hopalong, and when
+Hawkins had done so the Bar-20 drive foreman slapped his thigh and
+laughed nastily. "One house with one door an' only two windows--are
+you shore? Good! Where's the corrals? Good again! So they'll take pay
+for their blasted fence, eh? Cash or cows, hey! Don't want no fight
+'less it's necessary, but they're going to make us pay for the fence
+that killed two hundred head, an' blamed nigh got us, too. An' half a
+cent a head for drinking water! I've paid that more'n once--some of
+the poor devils squatting on the range ain't got nothing to sell but
+water, but I don't buy none out of Bennett's Creek! Pete, you mounted
+fellers round up a little--bunch the herd a little closer, an' drive
+straight along the trail towards that other fence. We'll all help you
+as soon as the wranglers bring us up something to ride. Push 'em hard,
+limp or no limp, till dark. They'll be too tired to go crow-hopping
+'round any in the dark to-night. An' say! When you see that bummer, if
+he wasn't got by the fence, drop him clean. So they've got twelve men,
+hey! Huh!"
+
+"What you going to do?" asked Red, beginning to cool down, and very
+curious.
+
+"Yes; tell us," urged Johnny.
+
+"Why, I'm going to cut that fence, an' cut it all to hell. Then I'm
+going to push the herd through it as far out of danger as I can. When
+they're all right Cookie an' the hoss-wranglers will have to hold 'em
+during the night while we do the rest."
+
+"What's the rest?" demanded Johnny.
+
+"Oh, I'll tell you that later; it can wait," replied Hopalong.
+"Meanwhile, you get out there with Pete an' help get the herd in
+shape. We'll be with you soon--here comes the wranglers an' the
+cavvieyeh. 'Bout time, too."
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXII
+
+                        MR. BOGGS IS DISGUSTED
+
+The herd gained twelve miles by dark and would pass through the
+northern fence by noon of the next day, for Cook's axe and monkey
+wrench had been put to good use. For quite a distance there was no
+fence: about a mile of barb wire had been pulled loose and was tangled
+up into several large piles, while rings of burned grass and ashes
+surrounded what was left of the posts. The cook had embraced this
+opportunity to lay in a good supply of firewood and was the happiest
+man in the outfit.
+
+At ten o'clock that night eight figures loped westward along the
+southern fence and three hours later dismounted near the first corral
+of the 4X ranch. They put their horses in a depression on the plain
+and then hastened to seek cover, being careful to make no noise.
+
+At dawn the door of the bunk house opened quickly and as quickly
+slammed shut again, three bullets in it being the reason. An uproar
+ensued and guns spat from the two windows in the general direction of
+the unseen besiegers, who did not bother about replying; they had
+given notification of their presence and until it was necessary to
+shoot there was no earthly use of wasting ammunition. Besides, the
+drive outfit had cooled down rapidly when it found that its herd was
+in no immediate danger and was not anxious to kill any one unless
+there was need. The situation was conducive to humor rather than
+anger. But every time the door moved it collected more lead, and it
+finally remained shut.
+
+The noise in the bunk house continued and finally a sombrero was waved
+frantically at the south window and a moment later Nat Boggs, foreman
+of the incarcerated 4X outfit, stuck his head out very cautiously and
+yelled questions which bore directly on the situation and were to the
+point. He appeared to be excited and unduly heated, if one might judge
+from his words and voice. There was no reply, which still further
+added to his heat and excitement. Becoming bolder and a little angrier
+he allowed his impetuous nature to get the upper hand and forthwith
+attempted the feat of getting through that same window; but a sharp
+/pat!/ sounded on a board not a foot from him, and he reconsidered
+hastily. His sombrero again waved to insist on a truce, and collected
+two holes, causing him much mental anguish and threatening the loss of
+his worthy soul. He danced up and down with great agility and no grace
+and made remarks, thereby leading a full-voiced chorus.
+
+"Ain't that a hell of a note?" he demanded plaintively as he paused
+for breath. "Stick /yore/ hat out, Cranky, an' see what /you/ can do,"
+he suggested, irritably.
+
+Cranky Joe regarded him with pity and reproach, and moved back towards
+the other end of the room, muttering softly to himself. "I know it
+ain't much of a bonnet, but he needn't rub it in," he growled,
+peevishly.
+
+"Try again; mebby they didn't see you," suggested Jim Larkin, who had
+a reputation for never making a joke. He escaped with his life and
+checked himself at the side of Cranky Joe, with whom he conferred on
+the harshness of the world towards unfortunates.
+
+The rest of the morning was spent in snipe-shooting at random,
+trusting to luck to hit some one, and trusting in vain. At noon Cranky
+Joe could stand the strain no longer and opened the door just a little
+to relive the monotony. He succeeded, being blessed with a smashed
+shoulder, and immediately became a general nuisance, adding greatly to
+the prevailing atmosphere. Boggs called him a few kinds of fools and
+hastened to nail the door shut; he hit his thumb and his heart became
+filled with venom.
+
+"/Now/ look at what they went an' done!" he yelled, running around in
+a circle. "Damned outrage!"
+
+"Huh!" snorted Cranky Joe with maddening superiority. "That ain't
+nothing--just look at me!"
+
+Boggs looked, very fixedly, and showed signs of apoplexy, and Cranky
+Joe returned to his end of the room to resume his soliloquy.
+
+"Why don't you come out an' take them cows!" inquired an unkind voice
+from without. "Ain't changed yore mind, have you?"
+
+"We'll give you a drink for half a cent a head--that's the regular
+price for watering cows," called another.
+
+The faint ripple of mirth which ran around the plain was lost in
+opinions loudly expressed within the room; and Boggs, tears of rage in
+his eyes, flung himself down on a chair and invented new terms for
+describing human beings.
+
+John Terry was observing. He had been fluttering around the north
+window, constantly getting bolder, and had not been disturbed. When he
+withdrew his sombrero and found that it was intact he smiled to
+himself and leaned his elbows on the sill, looking carefully around
+the plain. The discovery that there was no cover on the north side
+cheered him greatly and he called to Boggs, outlining a plan of
+action.
+
+Boggs listened intently and then smiled for the first time since dawn.
+"Bully for you, Terry!" he enthused. "Wait till dark--we'll fool 'em."
+
+A bullet chipped the 'dobe at Terry's side and he ducked as he leaped
+back. "From an angle--what did I tell you?" he laughed. "We'll drop
+out here an' sneak behind the house after dark. They'll be watching
+the door--an' they won't be able to see us, anyhow."
+
+Boggs sucked his thumb tenderly and grinned. "After which--," he
+elated.
+
+"After which--," gravely repeated Terry, the others echoing it with
+unrestrained joy.
+
+"Then, mebby, I can get a drink," chuckled Larkin, brightening under
+the thought.
+
+"The moon comes up at ten," warned a voice. "It'll be full to-night--
+an' there ain't many clouds in sight."
+
+"/Ol' King Cole was a merry ol' soul/," hummed McQuade, lightly.
+
+"An'--a--merry--ol'--soul--was--he!--was--he!" thundered the chorus,
+deep-toned and strong. "/He had a wife for every toe, an' some toes
+counted three!/"
+
+"Listen!" cried Meade, holding up his hand.
+
+"/An' every wife had sixteen dogs, an' every dog a flea!/" shouted a
+voice from the besiegers, followed by a roar of laughter.
+
+The hilarity continued until dark, only stopping when John Terry
+slipped out of the window, dropped to all-fours and stuck his head
+around the corner of the rear wall. He saw many stars and was silently
+handed to Pete Wilson.
+
+"What was that noise?" exclaimed Boggs in a low tone. "Are you all
+right, Terry?" he asked, anxiously.
+
+Three knocks on the wall replied to his question and then McQuade went
+out, and three more knocks were heard.
+
+"Wonder why they make that funny noise," muttered Boggs.
+
+"Bumped inter something, I reckon," replied Jim Larkin. "Get out of my
+way--I'm next."
+
+Boggs listened intently and then pushed Duke Lane back. "Don't like
+that--sounds like a crack on the head. Hey, Jim! /Say/ something!" he
+called softly. The three knocks were repeated, but Boggs was
+suspicious and he shook his head decisively. "To 'ell with the
+knocking--/say/ something!"
+
+"Still got them twelve men?" asked a strange voice, pleasantly.
+
+"/An' every dog a flea/," hummed another around the corner.
+
+"Hell!" shouted Boggs. "To the door, fellers! To the door--quick!"
+
+A whistle shrilled from behind the house and a leaden tattoo began on
+the door. "Other window!" whispered O'Neill. The foreman got there
+before him and, shoving his Colt out first to clear the way, yelled
+with rage and pain as a pole hit his wrist and knocked the weapon out
+of his hand. He was still commenting when Duke Lane pried open the
+door and, dropping quickly on his stomach, wriggled out, followed
+closely by Charley Beal and Tim. At that instant the tattoo drummed
+with greater vigor and such a hail of lead poured in through the
+opening that the door was promptly closed, leaving the three men
+outside to shift for themselves with the darkness their only cover.
+
+Duke and his companions whispered together as they lay flat and agreed
+upon a plan of action. Going around the ends of the house was suicide
+and no better than waiting for the rising moon to show them to the
+enemy; but there was no reason why the roof could not be utilized. Tim
+and Charley boosted Duke up, then Tim followed, and the pair on the
+roof pulled Charley to their side. Flat roofs were great institutions
+they decided as they crawled cautiously towards the other side. This
+roof was of hard, sun-baked adobe, over two feet thick, and they did
+not care if their friends shot up on a gamble.
+
+"Fine place, all right," thought Charley, grinning broadly. Then he
+turned an agonized face to Tim, his chest rising. "/Hitch! Hitch!/" he
+choked, fighting with all his will to master it. "/Hitch-chew! Hitch-
+chew! Hitch-chew!/" he sneezed, loudly. There was a scramble below and
+a ripple of mirth floated up to them.
+
+"/Hitch-chew/?" jeered a voice. "What do we want to hit you for?"
+
+"Look us over, children," invited another.
+
+"Wait until the moon comes up," chuckled the third. "Be like knocking
+the nigger baby down for Red an' the others. Ladies and gents: We'll
+now have a little sketch entitled 'Shooting snipe by moonlight.'"
+
+"Jack-snipe, too," laughed Pete. "Will somebody please hold the bag?"
+
+The silence on the roof was profound and the three on the ground tried
+again.
+
+"Let me call yore attention to the trained coyotes, ladies an' gents,"
+remarked Johnny in a deep, solemn voice. "Coyotes are not birds; they
+do not roost on roofs as a general thing; but they are some
+intelligent an' can be trained to do lots of foolish tricks. These
+ani-mules were--"
+
+"Step this way, people; on-ly ten cents, two nickels," interrupted
+Pete. "They bark like dogs, an' howl like hell."
+
+"Shut up!" snapped Tim, angrily.
+
+"After the moon comes up," said Hopalong, "when you fellers get tired
+dodging, you can chuck us yore guns an' come down. An' don't forget
+that this side of the house is much the safest," he warned.
+
+"Go to hell!" snarled Duke, bitterly.
+
+"Won't; they're laying for me down there."
+
+Johnny crawled to the north end of the wall and, looking cautiously
+around the corner, funnelled his hands: "On the roof, Red! On the
+roof!"
+
+"Yes, dear," was the reply, followed by gun-shots.
+
+"Hey! Move over!" snapped Tim, working towards the edge furthest from
+the cheerful Red, whose bullets were not as accurate in the dark as
+they promised to become in a few minutes when the moon should come up.
+
+"Want to shove me off?" snarled Charley, angrily. "For heaven's sake,
+Duke, do you want the whole earth?" he demanded of his second
+companion.
+
+"You just bet yore shirt I do! An' I want a hole in it, too!"
+
+"Ain't you got no sense?"
+
+"Would I be up here if I had?"
+
+"It's going to be hot as blazes up here when the sun gets high,"
+cheerfully prophesied Tim: "an' dry, too," he added for a finishing
+touch.
+
+"We'll be lucky if we're live enough to worry about the sun's heat--
+/say/, that was a /close/ one!" exclaimed Duke, frantically trying to
+flatten a little more. "Ah, thought so--there's that blamed moon!"
+
+"Wish I'd gone out the window instead," growled Charley, worming
+behind Duke, to the latter's prompt displeasure.
+
+"You fellers better come down, one at a time," came from below. "Send
+yore guns down first, too. Red's a blamed good shot."
+
+"Hope he croaks," muttered Duke. "/That's/ closer yet!"
+
+Tim's hand raised and a flash of fire singed Charley's hair. "Got to
+do something, anyhow," he explained, lowering the Colt and peering
+across the plain.
+
+"You damned near succeeded!" shouted Charley, grabbing at his head.
+"Why, they're three hundred, an' you trying for 'em with a--/oh!/" he
+moaned, writhing.
+
+"Locoed fool!" swore Duke, "showing 'em where we are! They're doing
+good enough as it is! You ought--got /you/, too!"
+
+"/I'm/ going down--that blamed fool out there ain't caring what he
+hits," mumbled Charley, clenching his hands from pain. He slid over
+the edge and Pete grabbed him.
+
+"Next," suggested Pete, expectantly.
+
+Tim tossed his Colt over the edge. "Here's another," he swore,
+following the weapon. He was grabbed and bound in a trice.
+
+"When may we expect you, Mr. Duke?" asked Johnny, looking up.
+
+"Presently, friend, presently. I want to--/wow/!" he finished, and
+lost no time in his descent, which was meteoric. "That feller'll
+/kill/ somebody if he ain't careful!" he complained as Pete tied his
+hands behind his back.
+
+"You wait till daylight an' see," cheerily replied Pete as the three
+were led off to join their friends in the corral.
+
+There was no further action until the sun arose and then Hopalong
+hailed the house and demanded a parley, and soon he and Boggs met
+midway between the shack and the line.
+
+"What d'you want?" asked Boggs, sullenly.
+
+"Want you to stop this farce so I can go on with my drive."
+
+"Well, I ain't holding you!" exploded the 4X foreman.
+
+"Oh, yes; but you are. I can't let you an' yore men out to hang on our
+flanks an' worry us; an' I don't want to hold you in that shack till
+you all die of thirst, or come out to be all shot up. Besides, I can't
+fool around here for a week; I got business to look after."
+
+"Don't you worry about us dying with thirst; that ain't worrying us
+none."
+
+"I heard different," replied Hopalong, smiling. "Them fellers in the
+corral drank a quart apiece. See here, Boggs; you can't win, an' you
+know it. Yo're not bucking me, but the whole range, the whole country.
+It's a fight between conditions--the fence idea agin the open range
+idea, an' open trails. The fence will lose. You closed a drive trail
+that's 'most as old as cow-raising. Will the punchers of this part of
+the country stand for it? Suppose you lick us,--which you won't--can
+you lick all the rest of us, the JD, Wallace's, Double-Arrow, C-80,
+Cross-O-Cross, an' the others! That's just what it amounts to, an' you
+better stop right now, before somebody gets killed. You know what that
+means in this section. Yo're six to our eight, you ain't got a drink
+in that shack, an' you dasn't try to get one. You can't do a thing
+agin us, an' you know it."
+
+Boggs rested his hands on his hips and considered, Hopalong waiting
+for him to reply. He knew that the Bar-20 man was right but he hated
+to admit it, he hated to say he was whipped.
+
+"Are any of them six hurt?" he finally asked.
+
+"Only scratches an' sore heads," responded Hopalong, smiling. "We
+ain't tried to kill anybody, yet. I'm putting that up to you."
+
+Boggs made no reply and Hopalong continued: "I got six of yore twelve
+men prisoners, an' all yore cayuses are in my han's. I'll shoot every
+animal before I'll leave 'em for you to use against me, an' I'll take
+enough of yore cows to make up for what I lost by that fence. You've
+got to pay for them dead cows, anyhow. If I do let you out you'll have
+to road-brand me two hundred, or pay cash. My herd ain't worrying me--
+it's moving all the time. It's through that other fence by now. An' if
+I have to keep my outfit here to pen you in or shoot you off I can
+send to the JD for a gang to push the herd. Don't make no mistake:
+yo're getting off easy. Suppose one of my men had been killed at the
+fence--what then?"
+
+"Well, what do you want me to do?"
+
+"Stop this foolishness an' take down them fences for a mile each side
+of the trail. If Buck has to come up here the whole thing'll go down.
+Road-brand me two hundred of yore three-year-olds. Now as soon as you
+agree, an' say that the fight's over, it will be. You can't win out;
+an' what's the use of having yore men killed off?"
+
+"I hate to quit," replied the other, gloomily.
+
+"I know how that is; but yo're wrong on this question, dead wrong. You
+don't own this range or the trail. You ain't got no right to close
+that old drive trail. Honest, now; have you?"
+
+"You say them six ain't hurt?"
+
+"No more'n I said."
+
+"An' if I give in will you treat my men right?"
+
+"Shore."
+
+"When will you leave."
+
+"Just as soon as I get them two hundred three-year-olds."
+
+"Well, I hate a quitter; but I can't do nothing, nohow," mused the 4X
+foreman. He cleared his throat and turned to look at the house. "All
+right; when you get them cows you get out of here, an' don't never
+come back!"
+
+Hopalong flung his arm with a shout to his men and the other kicked
+savagely at an inoffensive stick and slouched back to his bunk house,
+a beaten man.
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXIII
+
+                       TEX EWALT HUNTS TROUBLE
+
+Not more than a few weeks after the Bar-20 drive outfit returned to
+the ranch a solitary horseman pushed on towards the trail they had
+followed, bound for Buckskin and the Bar-20 range. His name was Tex
+Ewalt and he cordially hated all of the Bar-20 outfit and Hopalong in
+particular. He had nursed a grudge for several years and now, as he
+rode south to rid himself of it and to pay a long-standing debt, it
+grew stronger until he thrilled with anticipation and the sauce of
+danger. This grudge had been acquired when he and Slim Travennes had
+enjoyed a duel with Hopalong Cassidy up in Santa Fe, and had been
+worsted; it had increased when he learned of Slim's death at Cactus
+Springs at the hands of Hopalong; and, some time later, hearing that
+two friends of his, "Slippery" Trendley and "Deacon" Rankin, with
+their gang, had "gone out" in the Panhandle with the same man and his
+friends responsible for it, Tex hastened to Muddy Wells to even the
+score and clean his slate. Even now his face burned when he remembered
+his experiences on that never-to-be-forgotten occasion. He had been
+played with, ridiculed, and shamed, until he fled from the town as a
+place accursed, hating everything and everybody. It galled him to
+think that he had allowed Buck Peters' momentary sympathy to turn him
+from his purpose, even though he was convinced that the foreman's
+action had saved his life. And now Tex was returning, not to Muddy
+Wells, but to the range where the Bar-20 outfit held sway.
+
+Several years of clean living had improved Tex, morally and
+physically. The liquor he had once been in the habit of consuming had
+been reduced to a negligible quantity; he spent the money on
+cartridges instead, and his pistol work showed the results of careful
+and dogged practice, particularly in the quickness of the draw.
+Punching cows on a remote northern range had repaid him in health far
+more than his old game of living on his wits and other people's lack
+of them, as proved by his clear eye and the pink showing through the
+tan above his beard; while his somber, steady gaze, due to long-held
+fixity of purpose, indicated the resourcefulness of a perfectly
+reliable set of nerves. His low-hung holster tied securely to his
+trousers leg to assure smoothness in drawing, the restrained swing of
+his right hand, never far from the well-worn scabbard which sheathed a
+triggerless Colt's "Frontier"--these showed the confident and ready
+gun-man, the man who seldom missed. "Frontiers" left the factory with
+triggers attached, but the absence of that part did not always
+incapacitate a weapon. Some men found that the regular method was too
+slow, and painstakingly cultivated the art of thumbing the hammer.
+"Thumbing" was believed to save the split second so valuable to a man
+in argument with his peers. Tex was riding with the set purpose of
+picking a fair fight with the best six-shooter expert it had ever been
+his misfortune to meet, and he needed that split second. He knew that
+he needed it and the knowledge thrilled him with a peculiar elation;
+he had changed greatly in the past year and now he wanted an "even
+break" where once he would have called all his wits into play to avoid
+it. He had found himself and now he acknowledged no superior in
+anything.
+
+On his way south he met and talked with men who had known him, the old
+Tex, in the days when he had made his living precariously. They did
+not recognize him behind his beard, and he was content to let the
+oversight pass. But from these few he learned what he wished to know,
+and he was glad that Hopalong Cassidy was where he had always been,
+and that his gun-work had improved rather than depreciated with the
+passing of time. He wished to prove himself master of The Master, and
+to be hailed as such by those who had jeered and laughed at his
+ignominy several years before. So he rode on day after day, smiling
+and content, neither under-rating nor over-rating his enemy's ability
+with one weapon, but trying to think of him as he really was. He knew
+that if there was any difference between Hopalong Cassidy and himself
+that it must be very slight--perhaps so slight as to result fatally to
+both; but if that were so then it would have to work out as it saw fit
+--he at least would have accomplished what many, many others had
+failed in.
+
+
+
+In the little town of Buckskin, known hardly more than locally, and
+never thought of by outsiders except as the place where the Bar-20
+spent their spare time and money, and neutral ground for the
+surrounding ranches, was Cowan's saloon, in the dozen years of its
+existence the scene of good stories, boisterous fun, and quick deaths.
+Put together roughly, of crude materials, sticking up in inartistic
+prominence on the dusty edge of a dustier street; warped, bleached by
+the sun, and patched with boards ripped from packing cases and with
+the flattened sides of tin cans; low of ceiling, the floor one huge
+brown discoloration of spring, creaking boards, knotted and split and
+worn into hollows, the unpretentious building offered its hospitality
+to all who might be tempted by the scrawled, sprawled lettering of its
+sign. The walls were smoke-blackened, pitted with numerous small and
+clear-cut holes, and decorated with initials carelessly cut by men who
+had come and gone.
+
+Such was Cowan's, the best patronized place in many hot and dusty
+miles and the Mecca of the cowboys from the surrounding ranches. Often
+at night these riders of the range gathered in the humble building and
+told tales of exceeding interest; and on these occasions one might see
+a row of ponies standing before the building, heads down and quiet. It
+is strange how alike cow-ponies look in the dim light of the stars. On
+the south side of the saloon, weak, yellow lamp light filtered through
+the dirt on the window panes and fell in distorted patches on the
+plain, blotched in places by the shadows of the wooden substitutes for
+glass.
+
+It was a moonlight night late in the fall, after the last beef round-
+up was over and the last drive outfit home again, that two cow-ponies
+stood in front of Cowan's while their owners lolled against the bar
+and talked over the latest sensation--the fencing in of the West
+Valley range, and the way Hopalong Cassidy and his trail outfit had
+opened up the old drive trail across it. The news was a month old, but
+it was the last event of any importance and was still good to laugh
+over.
+
+"Boys," remarked the proprietor, "I want you to meet Mr. Elkins. He
+came down that trail last week, an' he didn't see no fence across it."
+The man at the table arose slowly. "Mr. Elkins, this is Sandy Lucas,
+an' Wood Wright, of the C-80. Mr. Elkins here has been a-looking over
+the country, sizing up what the beef prospects will be for next year;
+an' he knows all about wire fences. Here's how," he smiled, treating
+on the house.
+
+Mr. Elkins touched the glass to his bearded lips and set it down
+untasted while he joked over the sharp rebuff so lately administered
+to wire fences in that part of the country. While he was an ex-cow-
+puncher he believed that he was above allowing prejudice to sway his
+judgment, and it was his opinion, after careful thought, that barb
+wire was harmful to the best interests of the range. He had ridden
+over a great part of the cattle country in the last few yeas, and
+after reviewing the existing conditions as he understood them, his
+verdict must go as stated, and emphatically. He launched gracefully
+into a slowly delivered and lengthy discourse upon the subject, which
+proved to be so entertaining that his companions were content to
+listen and nod with comprehension. They had never met any one who was
+so well qualified to discuss the pros and cons of the barb-wire fence
+question, and they learned many things which they had never heard
+before. This was very gratifying to Mr. Elkins, who drew largely upon
+hearsay, his own vivid imagination, and a healthy logic. He was very
+glad to talk to men who had the welfare of the range at heart, and he
+hoped soon to meet the man who had taken the initiative in giving barb
+wire its first serious setback on that rich and magnificent southern
+range.
+
+"You shore ought to meet Cassidy--he's a fine man," remarked Lucas
+with enthusiasm. "You'll not find any better, no matter where you
+look. But you ain't touched yore liquor," he finished with surprise.
+
+"You'll have to excuse me, gentlemen," replied Mr. Elkins, smiling
+deprecatingly. "When a man likes it as much as I do it ain't very easy
+to foller instructions an' let it alone. Sometimes I almost break
+loose an' indulge, regardless of whether it kills me or not. I reckon
+it'll get me yet." He struck the bar a resounding blow with his
+clenched hand. "But I ain't going to cave in till I has to!"
+
+"That's purty tough," sympathized Wood Wright, reflectively. "I ain't
+so very much taken with it, but I know I would be if I knowed I
+couldn't have any."
+
+"Yes, that's human nature, all right," laughed Lucas. "That reminds me
+of a little thing that happened to me once--"
+
+"Listen!" exclaimed Cowan, holding up his hand for silence. "I reckon
+that's the Bar-20 now, or some of it--sounds like them when they're
+feeling frisky. There's allus something happening when them fellers
+are around."
+
+The proprietor was right, as proved a moment later when Johnny Nelson,
+continuing his argument, pushed open the door and entered the room. "I
+didn't neither; an' you know it!" he flung over his shoulder.
+
+"Then who did?" demanded Hopalong, chuckling. "Why, hullo, boys," he
+said, nodding to his friends at the bar. "Nobody else would do a fool
+thing like that; nobody but you, Kid," he added, turning to Johnny.
+
+"I don't care a hang what you think; I say I didn't an'--"
+
+"He shore did, all right; I seen him just afterward," laughed Billy
+Williams, pressing close upon Hopalong's heels. "Howdy, Lucas; an'
+there's that ol' coyote, Wood Wright. How's everybody feeling?"
+
+"Where's the rest of you fellers?" inquired Cowan.
+
+"Stayed home to-night," replied Hopalong.
+
+"Got any loose money, you two?" asked Billy, grinning at Lucas and
+Wright.
+
+"I reckon we have--an' our credit's good if we ain't. We're good for a
+dollar or two, ain't we, Cowan?" replied Lucas.
+
+"Two dollars an' four bits," corrected Cowan. "I'll raise it to three
+dollars even when you pay me that 'leven cents you owe me."
+
+"'Leven cents? What 'leven cents?"
+
+"Postage stamps an' envelope for that love letter you writ."
+
+"Go to blazes; that wasn't no love letter!" snorted Lucas,
+indignantly. "That was my quarterly report. I never did write no love
+letters, nohow."
+
+"We'll trim you fellers to-night, if you've got the nerve to play us,"
+grinned Johnny, expectantly.
+
+"Yes; an' we've got that, too. Give us the cards, Cowan," requested
+Wood Wright, turning. "They won't give us no peace till we take all
+their money away from 'em."
+
+"Open game," prompted Cowan, glancing meaningly at Elkins, who stood
+by idly looking on, and without showing much interest in the scene.
+
+"Shore! Everybody can come in what wants to," replied Lucas, heartily,
+leading the others to the table. "I allus did like a six-handed game
+best--all the cards are out an' there's some excitement in it."
+
+When the deal began Elkins was seated across the table from Hopalong,
+facing him for the first time since that day over in Muddy Wells, and
+studying him closely. He found no changes, for the few years had left
+no trace of their passing on the Bar-20 puncher. The sensation of
+facing the man he had come south expressly to kill did not interfere
+with Elkins' card-playing ability for he played a good game; and as if
+the Fates were with him it was Hopalong's night off as far as poker
+was concerned, for his customary good luck was not in evidence. That
+instinctive feeling which singles out two duellists in a card game was
+soon experienced by the others, who were careful, as became good
+players, to avoid being caught between them; in consequence, when the
+game broke up, Elkins had most of Hopalong's money. At one period of
+his life Elkins had lived on poker for five years, and lived well. But
+he gained more than money in this game, for he had made friends with
+the players and placed the first wire of his trap. Of those in the
+room Hopalong alone treated him with reserve, and this was cleverly
+swung so that it appeared to be caused by a temporary grouch due to
+the sting of defeat. As the Bar-20 man was known to be given to moods
+at times this was accepted as the true explanation and gave promise of
+hotly contested games for revenge later on. The banter which the
+defeated puncher had to endure stirred him and strengthened the
+reserve, although he was careful not to show it.
+
+When the last man rode off, Elkins and the proprietor sought their
+bunks without delay, the former to lie awake a long time, thinking
+deeply. He was vexed at himself for failing to work out an acceptable
+plan of action, one that would show him to be in the right. He would
+gain nothing more than glory, and pay too dearly for it, if he killed
+Hopalong and was in turn killed by the dead man's friends--and he
+believed that he had become acquainted with the quality of the
+friendship which bound the units of the Bar-20 outfit into a smooth,
+firm whole. They were like brothers, like one man. Cassidy must do the
+forcing as far as appearances went, and be clearly in the wrong before
+the matter could be settled.
+
+The next week was a busy one for Elkins, every day finding him in the
+saddle and riding over some one of the surrounding ranches with one or
+more of its punchers for company. In this way he became acquainted
+with the men who might be called on to act as his jury when the
+showdown came, and he proceeded to make friends of them in a manner
+that promised success. And some of his suggestions for the improvement
+of certain conditions on the range, while they might not work out
+right in the long run, compelled thought and showed his interest. His
+remarks on the condition and numbers of cattle were the same in
+substance in all cases and showed that he knew what he was talking
+about, for the punchers were all very optimistic about the next year's
+showing in cattle.
+
+"If you fellers don't break all records for drive herds of quality
+next year I don't know nothing about cows; an' I shore don't know
+nothing else," he told the foreman of the Bar-20, as they rode
+homeward after an inspection of that ranch. "There'll be more dust
+hanging over the drive trails leading from this section next year when
+spring drops the barriers than ever before. You needn't fear for the
+market, neither--prices will stand. The north an' central ranges ain't
+doing what they ought to this year--it'll be up to you fellers down
+south, here, to make that up; an' you can do it." This was not a
+guess, but the result of thought and study based on the observations
+he had made on his ride south, and from what he had learned from
+others along the way. It paralleled Buck's own private opinion,
+especially in regard to the southern range; and the vague suspicions
+in the foreman's mind disappeared for good and all.
+
+Needless to say Elkins was a welcome visitor at the ranch houses and
+was regarded as a good fellow. At the Bar-20 he found only two men who
+would not thaw to him, and he was possessed of too much tact to try
+any persuasive measures. One was Hopalong, whose original cold reserve
+seemed to be growing steadily, the Bar-20 puncher finding in Elkins a
+personality that charged the atmosphere with hostility and quietly
+rubbed him the wrong way. Whenever he was in the presence of the
+newcomer he felt the tugging of an irritating and insistent antagonism
+and he did not always fully conceal it. John Bartlett, Lucas, and one
+or two of the more observing had noticed it and they began to prophesy
+future trouble between the two. The other man who disliked Elkins was
+Red Connors; but what was more natural? Red, being Hopalong's closest
+companion, would be very apt to share his friend's antipathy. On the
+other hand, as if to prove Hopalong's dislike to be unwarranted,
+Johnny Nelson swung far to the other extreme and was frankly
+enthusiastic in his liking for the cattle scout. And Johnny did not
+pour oil on the waters when he laughingly twitted Hopalong for
+allowing "a licking at cards to make him sore." This was the idea that
+Elkins was quietly striving to have generally accepted.
+
+The affair thus hung fire, Elkins chafing at the delay and cautiously
+working for an opening, which at last presented itself, to be promptly
+seized. By a sort of mutual, unspoken agreement, the men in Cowan's
+that night passed up the cards and sat swapping stories. Cowan,
+swearing at a smoking lamp, looked up with a grin and burned his
+fingers as a roar of laughter marked the point of a droll reminiscence
+told by Bartlett.
+
+"That's a good story, Bartlett," Elkins remarked, slowing refilling
+his pipe. "Reminds me of the lame Greaser, Hippy Joe, an' the canned
+oysters. They was both bad, an' neither of 'em knew it till they came
+together. It was like this. . . ." The malicious side glance went
+unseen by all but Hopalong, who stiffened with the raging suspicion of
+being twitted on his own deformity. The humor of the tale failed to
+appeal to him, and when his full senses returned Lucas was in the
+midst of the story of the deadly game of tag played in a ten-acre lot
+of dense underbrush by two of his old-time friends. It was a tale of
+gripping interest and his auditors were leaning forward in their
+eagerness not to miss a word. "An' Pierce won," finished Lucas; "some
+shot up, but able to get about. He was all right in a couple of weeks.
+But he was bound to win; he could shoot all around Sam Hopkins."
+
+"But the best shot won't allus win in that game," commented Elkins.
+"That's one of the minor factors."
+
+"Yes, sir! It's /luck/ that counts there," endorsed Bartlett, quickly.
+"Luck, nine times out of ten."
+
+"Best shot ought to win," declared Skinny Thompson. "It ain't all
+luck, nohow. Where'd I be against Hoppy, there?"
+
+"Won't neither!" cried Johnny, excitedly. "The man who sees the other
+first wins out. That's wood-craft, an' brains."
+
+"Aw! What do you know about it, anyhow?" demanded Lucas. "If he can't
+shoot so good what chance has he got--if he misses the first try, what
+then?"
+
+"What chance has he got! First chance, miss or no miss. If he can't
+see the other first, where the devil does his good shooting come in?"
+
+"Huh!" snorted Wood Wright, belligerently. "Any fool can /see/, but he
+can't /shoot/! An' it's as much luck as wood-craft, too, an' don't you
+forget it!"
+
+"The first shot don't win, Johnny; not in a game like that, with all
+the dodging an' ducking," remarked Red. "You can't put one where you
+want it when a feller's slipping around in the brush. It's the most
+that counts, an' the best shot gets in the most. I wouldn't want to
+have to stand up against Hoppy an' a short gun, not in that game; no,
+sir!" and Red shook his head with decision.
+
+The argument waxed hot. With the exception of Hopalong, who sat
+silently watchful, every one spoke his opinion and repeated it without
+regard to the others. It appeared that in this game, the man with the
+strongest lungs would eventually win out, and each man tried to show
+his superiority in that line. Finally, above the uproar, Cowan's
+bellow was herd, and he kept it up until some notice was taken of it.
+"Shut up! /Shut up/! For God's sake, /quit/! Never saw such a bunch of
+tinder--let somebody drop a cold, burned-out match in this gang, an'
+hell's to pay. Here, /all/ of you, play cards an' forget about cross-
+tag in the scrub. You'll be arguing about playing marbles in the dark
+purty soon!"
+
+"All right," muttered Johnny, "but just the same, the man who--"
+
+"Never mind about the man who! Did you hear /me/?" yelled Cowan,
+swiftly reaching for a bucket of water. "/This/ is a game where /I/
+gets the most in, an' don't forget it!"
+
+"Come on; play cards," growled Lucas, who did not relish having his
+decision questioned on his own story. Undoubtedly somewhere in the
+wide, wide world there was such a thing as common courtesy, but none
+of it had ever strayed onto that range.
+
+The chairs scraped on the rough floor as the men pulled up to a table.
+"I don't care a hang," came Elkins' final comment as he shuffled the
+cards with careful attention. "I'm not any fancy Colt expert, but I'm
+damned if I won't take a chance in that game with any man as totes a
+gun. Leastawise, of /course/, I wouldn't take no such advantage of a
+lame man."
+
+The effect would have been ludicrous but for its deadly significance.
+Cowan, stooping to go under the bar, remained in that hunched-up
+attitude, his every faculty concentrated in his ears; the match on its
+way to the cigarette between Red's lips was held until it burned his
+fingers, when it was dropped from mere reflex action, the hand still
+stiffly aloft; Lucas, half in and half out of his chair, seemed to
+have got just where he intended, making no effort to seat himself.
+Skinny Thompson, his hand on his gun, seemed paralyzed; his mouth was
+open to frame a reply that never was uttered and he stared through
+narrowed eyelids at the blunderer. The sole movement in the room was
+the slow rising of Hopalong and the markedly innocent shuffling of the
+cards by Elkins, who appeared to be entirely ignorant of the weight
+and effect of his words. He dropped the pack for the cut and then
+looked up and around as if surprised by the silence and the
+expressions he saw.
+
+Hopalong stood facing him, leaning over with both hands on the table.
+His voice, when he spoke, rumbled up from his chest in a low growl.
+"You won't /have/ no advantage, Elkins. Take it from me, you've had
+yore last fling. I'm glad you made it plain, this time, so it's
+something I can take hold of." He straightened slowly and walked to
+the door, and an audible sigh sounded through the room as it was
+realized that trouble was not immediately imminent. At the door he
+paused and turned back around, looking back over his shoulder. "At
+noon to-morrow I'm going to hoof it north through the brush between
+the river an' the river trail, starting at the old ford a mile down
+the river." He waited expectantly.
+
+"Me too--only the other way," was the instant rejoinder. "Have it yore
+own way."
+
+Hopalong nodded and the closing door shut him out into the night.
+Without a word the Bar-20 men arose and followed him, the only
+hesitant being Johnny, who was torn between loyalty and new-found
+friendship; but with a sorrowful shake of the head, he turned away and
+passed out, not far behind the others.
+
+"Clannish, ain't they?" remarked Elkins, gravely.
+
+Those remaining were regarding him sternly, questioningly, Cowan with
+a deep frown darkening his face. "You hadn't ought to 'a' said that,
+Elkins." The reproof was almost an accusation.
+
+Elkins looked steadily at the speaker. "You hadn't ought to 'a' let me
+say it," he replied. "How did I know he was so touchy?" His gaze left
+Cowan and lingered in turn on each of the others. "Some of you ought
+to 'a' told me. I wouldn't 'a' said it only for what I said just
+before, an' I didn't want him to think I was challenging him to no
+duel in the brush. So I says so, an' then he goes an' takes it up that
+I /am/ challenging him. I ain't got no call to fight with nobody.
+Ain't I tried to keep out of trouble with him ever since I've been
+here? Ain't I kept out of the poker games on his account? Ain't I?"
+The grave, even tones were dispassionate, without a trace of animus
+and serenely sure of justice.
+
+The faces around him cleared gradually and heads began to nod in
+comprehending consent.
+
+"Yes, I reckon you have," agreed Cowan, slowly, but the frown was not
+entirely gone. "Yes, I reckon--mebby--you have."
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXIV
+
+                              THE MASTER
+
+It was noon by the sun when Hopalong and Red shook hands south of the
+old ford and the former turned to enter the brush. Hopalong was cool
+and ominously calm while his companion was the opposite. Red was
+frankly suspicious of the whole affair and nursed the private opinion
+that Mr. Elkins would lay in ambush and shoot his enemy down like a
+dog. And Red had promised himself a dozen times that he would study
+the signs around the scene of action if Hopalong should not come back,
+and take a keen delight, if warranted, in shooting Mr. Elkins full of
+holes with no regard for an even break. He was thinking the matter
+over as his friend breasted the first line of brush and could not
+refrain from giving a slight warning. "Get him, Hoppy," he called,
+earnestly; "get him good. Let /him/ do some of the moving about. I'll
+be here waiting for you."
+
+Hopalong smiled in reply and sprang forward, the leaves and branches
+quickly shutting him from Red's sight. He had worked out his plan of
+action the night before when he was alone and the world was still, and
+as soon as he had it to his satisfaction he had dropped off to sleep
+as easily as a child--it took more than gun-play to disturb his
+nerves. He glanced about him to make sure of his bearings and then
+struck on a curving line for the river. The first hundred yards were
+covered with speed and then he began to move more slowly and with
+greater regard for caution, keeping close to the earth and showing a
+marked preference for low ground. Sky-lines were all right in times of
+peace, but under the present conditions they promised to become
+unhealthy. His eyes and ears told him nothing for a quarter of an
+hour, and then he suddenly stopped short and crouched as he saw the
+plain trail of a man crossing his own direction at a right angle. From
+the bottom of one of the heel prints a crushed leaf was slowly rising
+back towards its original position, telling him how new the trail was;
+and as if this were not enough for his trained mind he heard a twig
+snap sharply as he glanced along the line of prints. It sounded very
+close, and he dropped instantly to one knee and thought quickly. Why
+had the other left so plain a trail, why had he reached up and broken
+twigs that projected above his head as he passed? Why had he kicked
+aside a small stone, leaving a patch of moist, bleached grass to tell
+where it had lain? Elkins had stumbled here, but there were no toe
+marks to tell of it. Hopalong would not track, for he was no assassin;
+but he knew that he would do if he were, and careless. The answer
+leaped to his suspicious mind like a flash, and he did not care to
+waste any time in trying to determine whether or not Elkins was
+capable of such a trick. He acted on the presumption that the trail
+had been made plain for a good reason, and that not far ahead at some
+suitable place,--and there were any number of such within a hundred
+yards,--the maker of the plain trail lay in wait. Smiling savagely he
+worked backward and turning, struck off in a circle. He had no
+compunctions whatever now about shooting the other player of the game.
+It was not long before he came upon the same trail again and he
+started another circle. A bullet /zipped/ past his ear and cut a twig
+not two inches from his head. He fired at the smoke as he dropped, and
+then wriggled rapidly backward, keeping as flat to the earth as he
+could. Elkins had taken up his position in a thicket which stood in
+the centre of a level patch of sand in the old bed of the river,--the
+bed it had used five years before and forsaken at the time of the big
+flood when it cut itself a new channel and made the U-bend which now
+surrounded this piece of land on three sides. Even now, during the
+rainy season, the thicket which sheltered Mr. Elkins was frequently an
+island in a sluggish, shallow overflow.
+
+"Hole up, blast you!" jeered Hopalong, hugging the ground. The second
+bullet from Mr. Elkins' gun cut another twig, this one just over his
+head, and he laughed insolently. "I ain't ascared to do the moving,
+even if you are. Judging from the way you keep out o' sight the canned
+oysters are in the can again. /I/ never did no ambushing, you coyote."
+
+"You can't make remarks like that an' get away with 'em--I've knowed
+you too long," retorted Elkins, shifting quickly, and none too soon.
+"You went an' got Slim afore he was wide awake. I know /you/, all
+right."
+
+Hopalong's surprise was but momentary, and his mind raced back over
+the years. Who was this man Elkins, that he knew Slim Travennes?
+"Yo're a liar, Elkins, an' so was the man who told you that!"
+
+"Call me Ewalt," jeered the other, nastily. "Nobody'll hear it, an'
+you'll not live to tell it. Ewalt, Tex Ewalt; call me that."
+
+"So you've come back after all this time to make me get you, have you?
+Well, I ain't a-going to shoot no buttons off you /this/ time. I allus
+reckoned you learned something at Muddy Wells--but you'll learn it
+here," Hopalong rejoined, sliding into a depression, and working with
+great caution towards the dry river bed, where fallen trees and
+hillocks of sand provided good cover in plenty. Everything was clear
+now and despite the seriousness of the situation he could not repress
+a smile as he remembered vividly that day at the carnival when Tex
+Ewalt came to town with the determination to kill him and show him up
+as an imitation. His grievance against Elkins was petty when compared
+to that against Ewalt, and he began to force the issue. As he peered
+over a stranded log he caught sight of his enemy disappearing into
+another part of the thicket, and two of his three shots went home.
+Elkins groaned with pain and fear as he realized that his right knee-
+cap was broken and would make him slow in his movements. He was lamed
+for life, even if he did come out of the duel alive; lamed in the same
+way that Hopalong was--the affliction he had made cruel sport of had
+come to him. But he had plenty of courage and he returned the fire
+with remarkable quickness, his two shots sounding almost as one.
+
+Hopalong wiped the blood from his cheek and wormed his way to a new
+place; when half way there he called out again, "How's yore health--
+Tex?" in mock sympathy.
+
+Elkins lied manfully and when he looked to get in another shot his
+enemy was on the farther bank, moving up to get behind him. He did not
+know Hopalong's new position until he raised his head to glance down
+over the dried river bed, and was informed by a bullet that nicked his
+ear. As he ducked, another grazed his head, the third going wild. He
+hazarded a return shot, and heard Hopalong's laugh ring out again.
+
+"Like the story Lucas told, the best shot is going to win out this
+time, too," the Bar-20 man remarked, grimly. "You thought a game like
+this would give you some chance against a better shot, didn't you? You
+are a fool."
+
+"It ain't over yet, not by a damned sight!" came the retort.
+
+"An' you thought you had a little the best of it if you stayed still
+an' let me do the moving, didn't you? You'll learn something before I
+get through with you: but it'll be too late to do you any good,"
+Hopalong called, crouched below a hillock of sand so the other could
+not take advantage of the words and single him out for a shot.
+
+"You can't learn me nothing, you assassin; I've got my eyes open, this
+time." He knew that he had had them open before, and that Hopalong was
+in no way an assassin; but if he could enrage his enemy and sting him
+into some reflex carelessness he might have the last laugh.
+
+Elkins' retort was wasted, for the sudden and unusual, although a
+familiar sound, had caught Hopalong's ear and he was giving all his
+attention to it. While he weighed it, his incredulity holding back the
+decision his common sense was striving to give him, the noise grew
+louder rapidly and common sense won out in a cry of warning an instant
+before a five-foot wall of brown water burst upon his sight, sweeping
+swiftly down the old, dry river bed; and behind it towered another and
+greater wall. Tree trunks were dancing end over end in it as if they
+were straws.
+
+"Cloud-burst!" he yelled. "Run, Tex! Run for yore life! Cloud-burst up
+the valley! Run, you fool; /Run/!"
+
+Tex's sarcastic retort was cut short as he instinctively glanced
+north, and his agonized curse lashed Hopalong forward. "Can't run--
+knee cap's busted! Can't swim, can't do--ah, hell--!"
+
+Hopalong saw him torn from his shelter and whisked down the raging
+torrent like an arrow from a bow. The Bar-20 puncher leaped from the
+bank, shot under the yellow flood and arose, gasping and choking many
+yards downstream, fighting madly to get the muddy water out of his
+throat and eyes. As he struck out with all his strength down the
+current, he caught sight of Tex being torn from a jutting tree limb,
+and he shouted encouragement and swam all the harder, if such a thing
+were possible. Tex's course was checked for a moment by a boiling
+back-current and as he again felt the pull of the rushing stream
+Hopalong's hand gripped his collar and the fight for safety began.
+Whirled against logs and stumps, drawn down by the weight of his
+clothes and the frantic efforts of Tex to grasp him--fighting the
+water and the man he was trying to save at the same time, his head
+under water as often as it was out of it, and Tex's vise-like fingers
+threatening him--he headed for the west shore against powerful cross-
+currents that made his efforts seem useless. He seemed to get the
+worst of every break. Once, when caught by a friendly current, they
+were swung under an overhanging branch, but as Hopalong's hand shot up
+to grasp it a submerged bush caught his feet and pulled him under, and
+Tex's steel-like arms around his throat almost suffocated him before
+he managed to beat the other into insensibility and break the hold.
+
+"I'll let you go!" he threatened; but his hand grasped the other's
+collar all the tighter and his fighting jaw was set with greater
+determination than ever.
+
+They shot out into the main stream, where the U-bend channel joined
+the short-cut, and it looked miles wide to the exhausted puncher. He
+was fighting only on his will now. He would not give up, though he
+scarce could lift an arm, and his lungs seemed on fire. He did not
+know whether Tex was dead or alive, but he would get the body ashore
+with him, or go down trying. He bumped into a log and instinctively
+grasped it. It turned, and when he came up again it was bobbing five
+feet ahead of him. Ages seemed to pass before he flung his numb arm
+over it and floated with it. He was not alone in the flood; a coyote
+was pushing steadily across his path towards the nearer bank, and on a
+gliding tree trunk crouched a frightened cougar, its ears flattened
+and its sharp claws dug solidly through the bark. Here and there were
+cattle and a snake wriggled smoothly past him, apparently as much at
+home in the water as out of it. The log turned again and he just
+managed to catch hold of it as he came up for the second time.
+
+Things were growing black before his eyes and strange, weird ideas and
+images floated through his brain. When he regained some part of his
+senses he saw ahead of him a long, curling crest of yellow water and
+foam, and he knew, vaguely, that it was pouring over a bar. The next
+instant his feet struck bottom and he fought his way blindly and
+slowly, with the stubborn determination of his kind, towards the
+brush-covered point twenty feet away.
+
+When he opened his eyes and looked around he became conscious of
+excruciating pains and he closed them again to rest. His outflung hand
+struck something that made him look around again, and he saw Tex
+Ewalt, face down at his side. He released his grasp on the other's
+collar and slowly the whole thing came to him, and then the necessity
+for action, unless he wished to lose what he had fought so hard to
+save.
+
+Anything short of the iron man Tex had become would have been dead
+before this or have been finished by the mauling he now got from
+Hopalong. But Tex groaned, gurgled a curse, and finally opened his
+eyes upon his rescuer, who sank back with a grunt of satisfaction.
+Slowly his intelligence returned as he looked steadily into Hopalong's
+eyes, and with it came the realization of a strange truth: he did not
+hate this man at all. Months of right living, days and nights of
+honest labor shoulder to shoulder with men who respected him for his
+ability and accepted him as one of themselves, had made a new man of
+him, although the legacy of hatred from the old Tex had disguised him
+from himself until now; but the new Tex, battered, shot-up, nearly
+drowned, looked at his old enemy and saw him for the man he really
+was. He smiled faintly and reached out his hand.
+
+"Cassidy, yo're the boss," he said. "Shake."
+
+They shook.
+
+
+
+
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