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diff --git a/4922-h/4922-h.htm b/4922-h/4922-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8976d4a --- /dev/null +++ b/4922-h/4922-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9471 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Bar-20 Days, by Clarence E. Mulford + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Bar-20 Days, by Clarence E. Mulford + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Bar-20 Days + +Author: Clarence E. Mulford + +Release Date: April 22, 2006 [EBook #4922] +Last Updated: March 16, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BAR-20 DAYS *** + + + + +Produced by Dagny; John Bickers; David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + BAR-20 DAYS + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Clarence E. Mulford + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h4> + AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED TO “M. D.” + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <big><b>BAR-20 DAYS</b></big> </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + BAR-20 DAYS + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <h3> + ON A STRANGE RANGE + </h3> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>fence</i> + country.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>their</i> money!” he boasted. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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, <i>ab initio</i>,” 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. + </p> + <p> + “What was that he said for us to keep away from?” asked Johnny with keen + interest. + </p> + <p> + “Sh! Not so loud,” chuckled Hopalong, winking prodigiously. + </p> + <p> + Johnny pulled tentatively at his upper lip but before he could reply his + companion had accosted a stranger. + </p> + <p> + “Friend, we're pilgrims in a strange land, an' we don't know the trails. + Can you tell us where the docks are?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Wonder if you're as thirsty as me?” solicitously inquired Hopalong of his + companion. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Same here; I'm allus feeling to see if I lost it,” Hopalong responded. + “There ain't no rubbing, no weight, nor nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Wish I had something to put in its place, blamed if I don't.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, now yo're talking—mebby we can buy something,” grinned + Hopalong, happily. “Here's a hardware store—come on in.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Johnny nudged him. “How about them wedges?” + </p> + <p> + “Twenty-five cents a pound,” explained the clerk, groping for his + bearings. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; what size?” + </p> + <p> + “Three pounds of shot, I said!” Johnny rumbled in his throat. “Never mind + what size.” + </p> + <p> + “We never care about size when we buy shot,” Hopalong smiled. “But, + Johnny, wouldn't them little screws be better?” he asked, pointing + eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Mebby; reckon we better get 'em mixed—half of each,” Johnny gravely + replied. “Anyhow, there ain't much difference.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, feels like a shore-enough gun,” remarked Johnny, combining two + thoughts in one expression, which is brevity. + </p> + <p> + The bartender looked at him quickly and then stood quite still and + listened, a puzzled expression on his face. + </p> + <p> + <i>Tic—tickety-tick—tic-tic</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + “What's that? What in the deuce is that?” quickly demanded the man with + the apron, swiftly reaching for his bung-starter. + </p> + <p> + <i>Tickety-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + “Them's making the noise,” Johnny explained after critical survey. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Must be filtering through the stopper,” Johnny remarked. “But don't it + sound nice, especially when it hits that brass cuspidor!” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “But we ain't begun yet,” Hopalong interposed hastily. “You see—” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you come no nearer!” he cried, white of face. “You git out, or I'll + let <i>this</i> leak, an' give you <i>all</i> shot, an' more than you can + carry!” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>does</i> drop when you let go + of it,” he observed. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + They were to meet Red at Dent's store on the way back and ride home + together. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>habitues</i> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Johnny turned his head ponderously and nodded. “Pleased to meet you, + stranger. An' what'll you all have?” + </p> + <p> + “Old Holland, mate,” replied the other, joining them. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + Johnny was relaxing and vainly trying to command his will power. + “Something's wrong; what's the matter?” he muttered sleepily. + </p> + <p> + “Guess you meant beer; you ain't used to drinking whiskey,” grinned the + bartender, derisively, and watching him closely. + </p> + <p> + “I can—drink as much whiskey as—” and, muttering, Johnny + slipped to the floor. + </p> + <p> + “That wasn't whiskey!” cried Hopalong, sleepily, “that liquor was <i>fixed</i>!” + he shouted, sudden anger bracing him. “An' I'm going to fix <i>you</i>, + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + A companion tentatively readjusted his lip. “I don't envy Wilkins his job + breaking in that man when he gets awake.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “No more shanghaiing hair pants for me, no more!” thickly replied + Portsmouth. “Oh, my head, it's bust open!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <h3> + THE REBOUND + </h3> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Johnny's eyes opened and he looked around in confusion. “Wha', Hopalong!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; it's me, the prize idiot of a blamed good pair of 'em. How'd you + feel?” + </p> + <p> + “Sleepy an' sick. My eyes ache an' my head's splitting. Where's Buck an' + the rest?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Swim or walk?” asked Hopalong nonchalantly. + </p> + <p> + “Huh! Oh, Lord!” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Well, yo're right; but mebby we can find food an' water.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Johnny looked. “Why, water; an' lots of it, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Naw; the water is on the other sides.” + </p> + <p> + “Then how do I know?—sh! I hear somebody coming on the roof.” + </p> + <p> + “Tumble back in yore bunk—quick!” Hopalong hurriedly whispered. “Be + asleep—if he comes down here it'll be our deal.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + No reply came from the forecastle—the silence was unbroken. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “<i>I'll</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong gazed at him in astonishment and sudden pity took possession of + him as his pallid companion left the porthole and faced him. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Stick 'em up higher—now, Johnny, wobble around behind the nice man + an' take <i>his</i> 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.” + </p> + <p> + Johnny, keeping up by sheer grit, pointed to the rear wall. “What about + that?” + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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: + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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? <i>Well</i>, I'll be hanged!” and he plunged + toward the “Cotton” box he had burst in his descent, and worked at it + frantically. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>machetes</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + “But what an unholy lot of weapons,” he soliloquized on his way back to + Johnny. “An' they're all second-hand. Cannons, too—an' <i>machetes</i>!” + 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. + </p> + <p> + “'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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Yensen looked up to reply, chanced to glance aft, and dropped his calking + iron in his astonishment. “Yumping Yimminy! Luk at dat fallar!” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “Ay ent ban fight wit dat fallar! Luk at the gun!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What the blank are you doing?” he yelled. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, aye.” + </p> + <p> + “Shore, you; who'd you think I was talking to? Can you find the way back, + the way we came?” + </p> + <p> + “Shure an' I can that, if I'm made to.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I'm captain of this ship—” began the helpless autocrat. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Hogan, is that right?” he demanded. “No funny business, or we'll clean up + the whole bunch, an' blamed quick, too!” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The <i>sop! sop!</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + Hopalong looked at him and slowly replied between swollen lips, “Yo're + right, Hogan; we're square now, I reckon.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <h3> + DICK MARTIN STARTS SOMETHING + </h3> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “A Greaser,” he replied, “is one-half fear and superstition, an' the other + half imagination. There ain't no ghosts, but I know the <i>Greasers</i> + have seen 'em, all right. A Greaser can see anything scary if he makes up + his mind to. If <i>I</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 <i>prefer</i> to see ghosts!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “None go through the canyon after dark on Fridays,” purred Martin. + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i> go tro' de canyon nex' Friday night. Eef I do, then you mak + apology to me?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll limit my remark to all but one Greaser.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; at nine o'clock to-morrow night,” Martin replied, hiding his + elation. He was sure that he knew the man now. + </p> + <p> + The Mexican, cool and smiling, bowed and left the room, his companions + hastening after him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll bet twenty-five dollars he flunks!” breathed the bartender, + straightening up. + </p> + <p> + Martin turned languidly and smiled at him. “I'll take that, Charley,” he + replied. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Gee, but I wish I'd not wasted so much time,” muttered the rider + uneasily. “This here canyon-cougar combination is the worst <i>I</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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <h3> + JOHNNY ARRIVES + </h3> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh, does he—make excuses?” asked Dent, mildly surprised. + </p> + <p> + “He does to <i>us</i>,” 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Sick?” queried Hopalong, who was frightened. + </p> + <p> + “Gimme that drink!” demanded Johnny feverishly, and when he had it he + leaned against the bar and mopped his face with a trembling hand. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter with you, anyhow?” asked Red, with deep anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; for God's sake, what's happened to you?” demanded Hopalong. + </p> + <p> + 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,<i>—an'—I—saw—a—ghost</i>!” + </p> + <p> + 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. “<i>A real, + screeching, flying ghost</i>! An' I'm going <i>home</i>, an' I'm going to + <i>stay</i> there. I ain't never coming back no more, not for anything. + Damn this border country, <i>anyhow</i>!” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + Red looked at Hopalong, Hopalong looked at Red, and then they both looked + at Dent, whose eyes were fixed in a stare on Johnny. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>two</i>?” He was advancing carefully while he talked, and Red was + now behind the man who saw one ghost. + </p> + <p> + “Why, you—” there was a sudden flurry and Johnny's words were cut + short in the melee. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Dent gave critical scrutiny to the scratched bar for a moment. “Well, the + Greasers all say there <i>is</i> 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + NOTISE—NO GHOSTS ALOWED + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>something</i>. + If it wasn't a ghost it was made to look like one, anyhow. Now go ahead.” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Several weeks later Buck Peters drew rein and waited for a stranger to + join him. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy. Is yore name Peters?” asked the newcomer, sizing him up in one + trained glance. + </p> + <p> + “Well, who are you, an' what do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “I want to see Peters, Buck Peters. That yore name?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; what of it?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <h3> + THE GHOST OF THE SAN MIGUEL + </h3> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>eat</i> it!” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> + <h3> + HOPALONG LOSES A HORSE + </h3> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “A man owes something to <i>all</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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, <i>this</i> 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Huh! What true?” + </p> + <p> + “All that I have heard about him.” + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>ain't</i> 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>me</i> + that wants revenge this time.” + </p> + <p> + “Huh; you'll be wanting it worse than ever if we do,” smiled Dave. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You going?” asked Hopalong suspiciously. + </p> + <p> + “Can't—got too much work to do,” quickly responded Tom, his brother + Art nodding happy confirmation. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “—Stop! Stop before it is too late, before death takes you in the + wallow of your sins! Repent and gain salvation—” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “—<i>Peace</i>! <i>Peace</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + The man with the afflicted neck started rocking the bench. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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, <i>Cassidy</i>?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Answer me! Are you not a sinner?” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know they didn't? How do you know they earned it? How do you + <i>know</i>?” 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 <i>his</i> 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. <i>This</i> 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 <i>dare</i> to fly in the face of that + great command!” + </p> + <p> + “You've got me picking the pea in <i>this</i> 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Hopalong wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Well, then, Tom or Art does, + all right.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Shore there is!” exploded Dave. “Plumb full of 'em!” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>my</i> + expense. <i>I</i> ain't trying to keep you, God knows!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Stranger,” cried Hopalong, bouncing into the bar-room, “where did you see + that cayuse of mine?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Damn the walk! Who was riding him?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody at all.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “He wasn't being rid when I saw him.” + </p> + <p> + “Hang it, man; that cayuse was stole from me!” + </p> + <p> + “Somewhat in the nature of a calamity, now ain't it?” smiled the stranger, + enjoying his contributions to the success of the joke. + </p> + <p> + “You bet yore life it is!” shouted Hopalong, growing red and then pale. + “You tell me who was leading him, understand?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm with you!” shouted Dave, leading the way on the run towards the + corral in the rear of his store. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <h3> + MR. CASSIDY COGITATES + </h3> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “All right!” he muttered as he let it eat. “I'll get my drink while you + eat an' then I'll get you!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon the jig's up,” remarked Mr. Cassidy, balancing the up-raised + Colt with nicety and indifference. + </p> + <p> + “Yea; I reckon so,” sullenly replied the other, tears running into his + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “Yo're a liar!” retorted the other, clenching his fists and growing red. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>your</i> + eyes, too!” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i> didn't say <i>you</i> was a liar,” replied Hopalong. “It was the + other way about. Reckon you can try me, anyhow; can't you?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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—<i>stand still</i>! You ain't got no show at all when yo're + dead!” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>might</i> 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: + </p> + <p> + “Bronc, I've been thinking: am I or am I not a jackass?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII + </h2> + <h3> + RED BRINGS TROUBLE + </h3> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “How many?” placidly inquired Mr. Cassidy, gazing intently towards the + high sky-line of the distant hills. + </p> + <p> + “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 + <i>still</i>!” + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>our</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Pair of budding warriors, all right; an' awful important. Somebody must + 'a' told <i>them</i> 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't know what <i>you</i> 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, mebby you also know how many's headed this way; do you?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell you one thing, Hoppy; we can get as far as Powers' old ranch house, + an' that's shore,” replied Red, thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” exploded his companion in scorn and pity. “That old sieve of a + shack ain't good enough for <i>me</i> 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Yes! Missed the coyote I aimed for, but I got the cayuse of his off + pardner; see it?” + </p> + <p> + “Talk about luck!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I'll stop! The blazes with the time! Gimme another, d'ye hear?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, the devil! You make me disgusted with yore fool talk about that + carbine!” snapped his companion, and the subject was dropped. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “How much water have you got?” inquired his friend with anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “Canteen plumb full. How're you fixed?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Huh! Never touched him! But he's edging off a-plenty. See him cuss you. + What's he calling you, anyhow?” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, shut up! How the devil do <i>I</i> know? I don't talk with my arms.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you superstitious, Red?” + </p> + <p> + “No! Shut up!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “'T ain't fur off—see it any minute now.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Ain't got time—that shack can't be much further.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “It'll answer, all right,” retorted Red grimly. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> + <h3> + MR. HOLDEN DROPS IN + </h3> + <p> + 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 <i>s-p-a-t!</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>me</i> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “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>I</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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Connors obeyed the summons and peered out cautiously. “I can't see + him, nohow; where is the coyote?” + </p> + <p> + “Over there in that little chaparral; see him now? <i>There!</i> See him + moving. Do you mean to tell me—” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “In jail, I reckon, if drink hasn't killed him.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I reckon so,” and Mr. Cassidy continued his medley, which prompted + his friend quickly to announce his unqualified disapproval. + </p> + <p> + “You can make more of a mess of them two songs than anybody I ever heard + murder 'em! <i>Shut up!</i>”—and the concert stopped, the vocalist + venting his feelings at an Indian, and killing the horse instead. + </p> + <p> + “Did you get him?” queried Red. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Better take my Winchester,” suggested Red, in a matter-of-fact way, but + he chuckled softly and listened for the reply. + </p> + <p> + “Aw, you go to the devil!” snapped Mr. Cassidy, firing again. “Whoop! Got + him that time!” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” asked his companion, with strong suspicion. + </p> + <p> + “None of yore business!” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, darn it! Who spilled the water?” yelled Red, staring blankly at the + overturned canteen. + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw! Reckon I did, Red,” apologized his friend ruefully. “Now of all + the cussed luck!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well; we've got another, an' you had to wash out yore eyes. Lucky we + each had one—<i>Holy smoke!</i> It's most all gone! The top is + loose!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Yo're shore a happy idiot,” grinned Red. “Hey! Listen!” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “He's a blamed fool to ride this way! I'm with you!” replied Red, running + to his side. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Mine's Cassidy, an' that's Connors, of the Bar-20. Are you hurt very + bad?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Fool!” snorted Mr. Connors belligerently. “<i>You'd</i> '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. + </p> + <p> + “Well, they didn't get me, did they? What you yelling about, anyhow?” + growled Hopalong, trying to brazen it out. + </p> + <p> + “An' <i>you</i> talking about suicide to me!” snapped Mr. Connors, + determined to rub it in and have the last word. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Red's only comment, as he pumped a fresh cartridge into the barrel, was, + “He must 'a' thought he saw a spider fight, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Hey, Red,” called Hopalong. “The big one is dead.” + </p> + <p> + “What big one?” + </p> + <p> + “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'—” + </p> + <p> + “Go to the devil!” shouted Red, who had to grin, despite his anger. + </p> + <p> + “Presently, presently,” replied Hopalong, laughing. + </p> + <p> + So the day passed, and when darkness came upon them all of the defenders + were wounded, Holden desperately so. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “We'll toss for it; heads, I go,” Red suggested, flipping a coin. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Good luck, Hoppy!” cried Red, running to the door. “Good luck!” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” anxiously cried the man on the floor. “Did he make it?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I will if you'll call me when you get sleepy.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X + </h2> + <h3> + BUCK TAKES A HAND + </h3> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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! <i>Will</i> you hurry up!” + </p> + <p> + “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—<i>Lanky!</i>” + he shouted. “<i>Lanky!</i>” + </p> + <p> + “All right, Buck!” and Lanky Smith roughly pushed his way through the + crowd to his foreman's side. “Here I am.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + Excited and impatient voices replied from the darkness, vexed, grouchy, + and querulous. “Then get a move on—<i>whoa!</i>—it'll be light + before we get there if you don't hustle!” roared one voice above the + confusion. “You know what <i>that</i> means!” + </p> + <p> + “Come on! Come on! For God's sake, are you tied to the bar?” + </p> + <p> + “Yo're a lot of old grandmothers! Come on!” + </p> + <p> + Hopalong appeared in the door. “I'll show you the way, boys!” he shouted. + “Cowan, put my saddle on yore cayuse—<i>pronto</i>!” + </p> + <p> + “Good for you, Hoppy!” came from the street. “We'll wait!” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Good for you, Cassidy!” cried a man who hastened out to mount. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, come on,” replied Buck. “There's blamed few like you,” he + muttered, following Hopalong outside. + </p> + <p> + “Here's the cayuse, Cassidy,” cried Cowan, turning the animal over to him. + “<i>Wait</i>, 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 <i>that</i> gang cuts loose,” he + muttered with savage elation. “Wish I was with 'em. Damn Injuns, anyhow!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “He passed. It was a close—” began Red, weakly, but his foreman + interposed. + </p> + <p> + “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, <i>hullo</i>!” + he cried as Lanky Smith and his two happy companions rode up. “Reckon you + must 'a' got them pickets.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “We didn't see you,” responded the foreman, tying the knot of a bandage on + Mr. Connors' arm. “An' we looked sharp, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Reckon we was hunting for more; we sort of forgot what you said about + waiting for you,” Mr. Smith replied, grinning broadly. + </p> + <p> + “An' you've got a good memory now,” smiled Mr. Peters. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “It's too bad about Holden,” muttered Red, sullenly. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI + </h2> + <h3> + HOPALONG NURSES A GROUCH + </h3> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>us</i> miserable because he lost a few + measly dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “You know I've had a toothache!” snorted Johnny with a show of + indignation, his face as sober as that of a judge. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “You do,” replied a one-eyed man, lazily arising and approaching him. “One + dollar, now.” + </p> + <p> + “An' take the rocks outen that bed—I want to sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “A dollar per for every rock you find,” grinned Stevenson, pleasantly. + “There ain't no rocks in <i>my</i> beds,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Hee, hee, hee! Yo're a droll feller, Charley,” chuckled Old John Ferris, + rubbing his ear with unconcealed delight. “That's a good un.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “It's better,” smiled Stevenson, whereat Old John crossed his legs and + chuckled again. Stevenson winked. + </p> + <p> + “Riding long?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Since I started.” + </p> + <p> + “Going fur?” + </p> + <p> + “Till I stop.” + </p> + <p> + “Where do you belong?” Stevenson's pique was urging him against the ethics + of the range, which forbade personal questions. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong looked at him with a light in his eye that told the host he had + gone too far. “Under my sombrero!” he snapped. + </p> + <p> + “Hee, hee, hee!” chortled Old John, rubbing his ear again and nudging + Charley. “He ain't no fool, hey?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I don't know, John; he won't tell,” replied Charley. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong wheeled and glared at him, and Charley, smiling uneasily, made an + appeal: “Ain't mad, are you?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Said his wife was sick,” muttered the puncher. “Oh, what you saying?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that all? Shore I'll go to bed—like to see anybody stop me! + Ain't no rocks in it, hey?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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—<i>oof</i>!” 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. + </p> + <p> + “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'.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII + </h2> + <h3> + A FRIEND IN NEED + </h3> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What's got inter you?” demanded Old John. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>was</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + “Well, mebby what you said is—” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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'—” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Grub pile!” shouted Stevenson, and the two made haste to obey. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Hey! Charley!” he cried. “Why are you follering this track?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Because it's his; that's why.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, here, wait a minute!” and Old John was getting red from excitement. + “How do you know it is? Mebby he took the other!” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “He ain't got sand enough to tackle a thing like that single-handed,” + laughed Jed White, winking to the others. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “Hard-headed old fool,” remarked Charley, frowning, as he led the way + again. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “Get up!” snapped Stevenson, angrily. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Get up!” ordered Charley, shortly. + </p> + <p> + “An' I've seen you, too. Funny, all right.” + </p> + <p> + “You've seen me, all right,” retorted Stevenson. “Get up, damn you! Get + up!” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “Use yore feet, you thief!” rejoined Stevenson roughly, stepping forward + and delivering another kick. “Use yore feet!” he reiterated. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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—” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why <i>I</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!” + </p> + <p> + “Is that yore cayuse?” demanded Charley, pointing. + </p> + <p> + Hopalong squinted towards the animal indicated. “Which one?” + </p> + <p> + “There's only one there, you fool!” + </p> + <p> + “That so?” replied Hopalong, surprised. “Well, I never seen it afore. My + cayuse is—is—where the devil <i>is</i> it?” he asked, looking + around anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “How'd you get that one, then, if it ain't yours?” + </p> + <p> + “Never had it—'t ain't mine, nohow,” replied Hopalong, with strong + conviction. “Mine was a <i>hoss</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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>I</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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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—<i>why, hullo, hoss-thief</i>!” 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “Sit still—you can talk later, mebby,” replied Stevenson, warily + approaching him. “Watch him, boys!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “All right; talk quick.” + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>see</i> he was!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “Yep; through yet?” asked Stevenson, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait till Old John gets here,” suggested Jed to Charley. “He ought to + know this feller.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII + </h2> + <h3> + MR. TOWNSEND, MARSHAL + </h3> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>always</i> knew what you were going to do + before you knew it yourself—this was very discouraging. Therefore, + he flourished and waxed fat. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Say, was you ever broke?” he asked suddenly, a trace of sadness in his + voice. + </p> + <p> + The bartender glanced at him quickly, but remained judiciously silent, + smelling the preamble of an attempt to “touch.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Don't make no difference to me,” rejoined the bartender. + </p> + <p> + “All right; all at once, an' have it over with. It's a kid's game, at + that.” + </p> + <p> + “High wins, of course?” + </p> + <p> + “High wins.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Wait,” grinned the bartender, who was a stickler for rules. He reached + over and turned up a card, and then laughed. “Matched, by George!” + </p> + <p> + “Try again,” grinned Fisher, his face clearing with hope. + </p> + <p> + The bartender shuffled, and Fisher turned a five, which proved to be just + one point shy when his companion had shown his card. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Done—that's a good weapon.” + </p> + <p> + “None better. Ah, a jack!” + </p> + <p> + “I say queen—nope, <i>king</i>!” exulted the dispenser of liquids. + “Say, mebby you can get a job around here when you quit the CG,” he + suggested. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Lucky town, all right,” chirped Fisher. “An' where is the marshal?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Good for him! I'll chase right down an' see him; an' when I get that + piebald——!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Are you the marshal of this flea of a town?” politely inquired the + newcomer. + </p> + <p> + “I am the same,” replied the man with the rifle. “Anything I kin do for + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; have you seen a piebald cayuse straying around loose-like, or + anybody leading one—CG being the brand?” + </p> + <p> + “I did; it was straying.” + </p> + <p> + “An' which way did it go?” + </p> + <p> + “Into the town pound.” + </p> + <p> + “What! Pond! What'n blazes is it doing with a pond? Couldn't it drink + without getting in? Where's the pond?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>its</i> peace. Sorry it put + you to all that trouble,” he sympathized. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “What!” yelled Fisher, emerging from his trance. “What!” he yelled again. + </p> + <p> + “I ain't none deaf,” placidly replied the marshal. “Got the money, the + three an' a half?” + </p> + <p> + “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, <i>an' + do it damned quick</i>!” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I've got a lead slug for you if I can borrow my gun for five minutes!” + retorted Fisher, seething double from anger. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV + </h2> + <h3> + THE STRANGER'S PLAN + </h3> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>his</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “A-men,” sighed the bartender. “Deacon Jones will now pass down the aisle + an' collect the buttons an' tin money.” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>or</i> children in this town. + An' if there was, I sort of reckon their ancestors would be born first. + What do you think about it—” + </p> + <p> + “Let us pause to consider the shameful an' burning <i>indignity</i> + perpetrated upon us to-day!” continued Fisher, unheeding the bartender's + words. “I, a peaceful, law-abiding <i>citizen</i> of this <i>glorious</i> + Commonwealth, a free an' <i>equal</i> member of a liberty-loving nation, a + nation whose standard is, <i>now</i> and forever, 'Gimme liberty or gimme + det', a <i>nation</i> that stands for all the conceivable benefits that + mankind may enjoy, a <i>nation</i> that scintillates pyrotechnically over + the prostitution of power—” + </p> + <p> + <i>Bang!</i> went the bartender's fist on the counter. “Hey! Pause again! + Wait a minute! Go back to 'shameful an' burning,' and gimme a chance!” + </p> + <p> + “—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. <i>An''</i> I say, right here an' now, that I + won't allow no spavined individual with thieving prehensils to—” + </p> + <p> + “Has that pound-keeper got a rifle?” calmly interrupted the stranger, + without a pang of remorse. + </p> + <p> + “He has. Thus has it allus been with tyrants—well armed, fortified + by habit an' tradition—” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, not for a week; he wants to run up the board an' keep expenses. + Tyrants, such as him—” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that all depends whether the joke is harmless on <i>me</i>. 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>No!</i> Every man in town hates him,” answered the bartender, hastily, + and with emphasis. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>you</i> going to do to get me out of this mess?” he + finished anxiously, hands on hips. + </p> + <p> + “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>I</i> don't mind it a bit.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>not</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>know</i> + I have. But I'll be teetotally dod-blasted if I can place him.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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>I</i> + am to do all the talking at this auction; you fellers just look on.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The marshal looked at him and then ignored him. “How much, gentlemen?” he + asked, facing the crowd again. + </p> + <p> + “Two bits,” repeated the stranger, as the crowd remained silent. + </p> + <p> + “Two bits!” yelled the marshal, glaring at him angrily: “<i>Two bits!</i> + Why, the <i>look</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>you</i> 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. “<i>Did you say twenty-five + dollars?</i>” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + The stranger came to the rescue. “He did not. He hasn't opened his mouth. + But <i>I</i> said twenty-five <i>cents</i>,” quietly observed the + humorist. + </p> + <p> + “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 + <i>you</i> say twenty-five dollars?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>cans</i>! Gimme twenty-five dollars, + somebody. <i>I</i> bid twenty-five. I want thirty. I want thirty, + gentlemen; you must gimme thirty. <i>I</i> bid twenty-five dollars—who's + going to make it thirty?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “I said two bits an' I mean just that. You show yore twenty-five or gimme + that cayuse on my bid,” retorted the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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! <i>Stop it!</i> 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 <i>silver</i>, 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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— + </p> + <p> + “Stranger,” he said slowly, “what's yore name?” + </p> + <p> + The crowd listened eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “My <i>friends</i> 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV + </h2> + <h3> + JOHNNY LEARNS SOMETHING + </h3> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + As they entered the store they saw Edwards, whose eye asked a question. + </p> + <p> + “No; he ain't in there yet,” Hopalong replied. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “Mebby yo're right, Kid,” replied Hopalong, and the marshal's nodding head + decided it. + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + But the man at the far end of the line was unlike the proprietor and he + prefaced his remarks with a curse. “<i>I</i> know what's up! They want + Jerry Brown, that's what! An' I hopes they don't get him, the bullies!” + </p> + <p> + “What did he do? Why do they want him?” asked the man who had wanted + trust. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>we</i> 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Slivers Lowe leaped up from his chair. “Yo're right, Harper! Dead right! + <i>I</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. + </p> + <p> + The rear door opened slightly and one of the loungers looked up and + nodded. “It's all right, Jerry. But get a move on!” + </p> + <p> + “Here, <i>you</i>!” called Harlan, quickly bending over the trap door, “<i>Lively!</i>” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon you won't blot no more brands!” he cried, triumphantly, watching + both Jerry and Harlan. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + Johnny moaned and opened his eyes. “Did—did I—get him?” + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>you</i>, Harlan, after I get yore friend! + An' all the rest of you pups, too!” + </p> + <p> + “Get me out of here,” whispered Johnny. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Yore day's about over, Harlan,” he muttered. “There's going to be some + few funerals around here before many hours pass.” + </p> + <p> + When he reached the store he found the owner and two Double-Arrow punchers + taking care of Johnny. “Where's Hopalong?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Gone to tell his foreman,” replied Jackson. “Hey, youngster, you let them + bandages alone! Hear me?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI + </h2> + <h3> + THE END OF THE TRAIL + </h3> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “That makes the fourth time I've missed that coyote!” angrily exclaimed + Hopalong as Red Connors joined him. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Well, the coyote is afoot, anyhow,” said Red, with great satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>that</i> water without them. + An' if we could, he'd pot us easy.” + </p> + <p> + “There's a way out of it somewhere,” Red replied, disappearing over the + edge of the bluff to gamble with Fate. + </p> + <p> + “Hey! Come back here, you chump!” cried Hopalong, running forward. “He'll + get you, shore!” + </p> + <p> + “That's a chance I've got to take if I get him,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>reata</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Hey, Red!” cried Hopalong, pointing ahead of them. “Look there! Ain't + that a house?” + </p> + <p> + “Naw; course not! It's a—it's a ship!” Red snorted sarcastically. + “What did you think it might be?” + </p> + <p> + “G'wan!” retorted his companion. “It's a mission.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, g'wan yoreself! What's a mission doing up here?” Red snapped. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think they do? What do they do anywhere?” hotly rejoined + Hopalong, thinking about Johnny. “There! See the cross?” + </p> + <p> + “Shore enough!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Cashed nothing! Them fellers don't.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if he's in that joint we might as well go back home. We won't get + him, not nohow,” declared Hopalong. + </p> + <p> + “Huh! You wait an' see!” replied Red, pugnaciously. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Think I'm a fool kid?” snapped Red, aggressively. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you ain't no <i>kid</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “You let <i>me</i> do the talking; <i>I'll</i> get him.” + </p> + <p> + “All right; an' I'll do the laughing,” snickered Hopalong, at the door. + “Sic 'em, Red!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Quit cussing!” tersely ordered Hopalong. “An' for God's sake, throw out + that damned cigarette! Ain't you got no manners?” + </p> + <p> + Red listened intently and then grinned. “Hear that? They're playing + dominoes in there—come on!” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, you chump! 'Dominee' means 'mother' in Latin, which is what they + speaks.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “Hanged if I can tell—I've heard it somewhere, that's all.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, stranger,” he remarked, with quiet emphasis, “we're after that + cow-lifter, an' we mean to get him. Savvy?” + </p> + <p> + The monk did not appear to hear him, so he tried another tack. “<i>Habla + Espanola?</i>” he asked, experimentally. + </p> + <p> + “You have ridden far?” replied the monk in perfect English. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And if you capture him?” + </p> + <p> + “He won't have no more use for no side pocket shooting.” + </p> + <p> + “I see; you will kill him.” + </p> + <p> + “Shore's it's wet outside.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid you are doomed to disappointment.” + </p> + <p> + “Ya-as?” asked Red with a rising inflection. + </p> + <p> + “You will not want him now,” replied the monk. + </p> + <p> + Red laughed sarcastically and Hopalong smiled. + </p> + <p> + “There ain't a-going to be no argument about it. Trot him out,” ordered + Red, grimly. + </p> + <p> + The monk turned to Hopalong. “Do you, too, want him?” + </p> + <p> + Hopalong nodded. + </p> + <p> + “My friends, he is safe from your punishment.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “You are right—he is here, and he is not here.” + </p> + <p> + “We're waiting,” Red replied, grinning. + </p> + <p> + “When I tell you that you will not want him, do you still insist on seeing + him?” + </p> + <p> + “We'll see him, an' we'll want him, too.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <i>C-r-e-a-k!</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + “What in blazes!” exclaimed Buck, wonder and surprise struggling for the + mastery as the others cantered up. + </p> + <p> + “He's cashed,” Red replied, putting on his sombrero and nodding toward the + procession. + </p> + <p> + Buck turned like a flash and spoke sharply: “Skinny! Lanky! Follow that + glory-outfit, an' see what's in that box!” + </p> + <p> + Billy Williams grinned at Red. “Yo're shore pious, Red.” + </p> + <p> + “Shut up!” snapped Red, anger glinting in his eyes, and Billy subsided. + </p> + <p> + Lanky and Skinny soon returned from accompanying the procession. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Deader'n hell,” remarked Skinny, looking around curiously. “This here is + some shack, ain't it?” he finished. + </p> + <p> + “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, <i>you</i>! Yes, <i>you</i>! + Come out of that an' put on yore lid! Straddle leather—we can't stay + here all night.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Billy, grinning, turned and playfully punched him in the ribs. “Getting + glory, Hoppy?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII + </h2> + <h3> + EDWARDS' ULTIMATUM + </h3> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Edwards nodded moodily and Jackson replied with a monosyllable. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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>I'd</i> 'a' been.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “<i>What!</i>” yelled Harlan, red with anger. He placed his hands on the + bar and leaned over it as if to give emphasis to his words. “<i>Me</i> + pack up an' git! <i>Me</i> leave this shack! Who's going to pay me for it, + hey? <i>Me</i> leave town! You drop out again an' go back to Kansas where + you come from—they're easier back there!” + </p> + <p> + “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: <i>You</i> 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You all slip over the horizon before dark to-night, an' it's dark early + these days,” he continued. “<i>Don't get restless with yore hands!</i>” 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. + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “I <i>won't</i> leave town!” shouted Harlan. “I'll stay here if I'm killed + for it!” + </p> + <p> + “I admire yore loyalty to principle, but you've got damned little sense,” + retorted the marshal. “You ain't no practical man. <i>Keep yore hands + where they are!</i>”—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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + He left behind him deep silence, which endured for several moments. + </p> + <p> + “By the Lord, I <i>won't</i>!” cried Harlan, still staring at the door. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Harlan's right!” emphatically announced Laramie Joe. “We can't pull out + and have this foller us.” + </p> + <p> + “We should have started it with a rush when he was in here,” remarked + Boston, regretfully. + </p> + <p> + Harlan stopped his pacing and faced them, shoving out a bottle of whiskey + as an aid to his logic. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The scouts departed at once and the remaining four drew close in + consultation. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That sounds good, all right,” remarked Slivers, thoughtfully, “but can we + do it that easy?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You can bet the shack <i>I</i> won't do no trail-hitting,” growled + Boston, glancing at Slivers, who squirmed a little under the hint. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “We ought to spread out cautions and surround Jackson's, or wherever + Edwards is,” Laramie Joe suggested. “That's my—” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “This <i>is</i> a hummer of a game,” laughed Slivers. “But how about the + Bar-20 crowd?” + </p> + <p> + “I've told you that already,” replied the proprietor. + </p> + <p> + “You bet it's a hummer,” cried Boston, reaching for the whiskey bottle + under cover of the excitement and enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>men</i> let's prove it an' make + them liars swaller our lead.” + </p> + <p> + “My sentiments an' allus was!” roared Slivers, slapping Harlan's shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “We're men, all right, an' we'll show 'em it, too!” + </p> + <p> + At that instant the door opened and four guns covered it before it had + swung a foot. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII + </h2> + <h3> + HARLAN STRIKES + </h3> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Say, won't somebody please smile?” gravely asked Edwards. “I never saw + such a happy, cheerful bunch before.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Where's the marshal?” cried Barr, catching sight of Jackson. “Are you + plugged bad?” he asked, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I ain't plugged a whole lot <i>good</i>!” 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?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon—I'm bleeding inside,” Jackson muttered, wearily and + without hope. “Wonder how—long we—can hold out?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; what's the game?” asked Barr, mildly surprised that he had not + thought of it before. + </p> + <p> + “It's that Oasis gang,” Johnny responded. He fired, and growled with + disappointment. “Harlan's at the head of it,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “Edwards—told Harlan to—get out of—town,” Jackson began. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>coyote</i>!” + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “Mad! Mad!” yelled Johnny, touching his twice-wounded shoulder and dancing + with rage and pain. “Right in the same place! Oh, wait! <i>Wait!</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don't Buck an' Hoppy hurry up!” snarled Johnny. + </p> + <p> + “Be a long time—mebby,” mumbled Jackson, his trembling hands trying + to steady the rifle. “They're all—around us. <i>Ah</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Now, you coyotes; you pay <i>me</i> for <i>that</i>!” he gritted, resting + the gun on the window sill and holding it so he could work it with one + hand and shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Wonder how them pups ever pumped up enough courage to cut loose like + this?” queried Neal from behind his flour barrel. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “It's suicide; they'll get you before you get ten feet,” Barr replied with + conviction. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't stop fer that; there's a shelfful of all kinds behind the counter,” + Barr interposed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, so long an' good luck,” and the rear door closed, and softly this + time. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “They ain't shooting as much as they was before.” + </p> + <p> + “Waiting till they gets sober, I reckon,” Johnny replied. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Hey, why can't you do the same thing if he makes it?” Johnny suddenly + asked. “I can hold her alone, all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Yo're a cheerful liar, you are,” laughed Barr. “But can <i>you</i> ride?” + </p> + <p> + “Reckon so, but I ain't a-going to.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, we <i>both</i> can go—it's a cinch!” Barr cried. “Come on!” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “But they're gone! You can't do them no good by staying.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>spang!</i> 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.” + </p> + <p> + “An' they're tuning up again, too,” Johnny replied, preparing for trouble. + “Look out for a rush, Barr.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX + </h2> + <h3> + THE BAR-20 RETURNS. + </h3> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Right you are,” came from the rear. + </p> + <p> + “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, <i>no quarter</i>!” + </p> + <p> + “Reckon <i>not</i>!” gritted Red, savagely. “Not with Edwards an' Jackson + dead, an' the Kid fighting for his life!” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Thank the Lord! That means that there's somebody left to fight 'em,” + exclaimed Red. “Hope it's the Kid,” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “They'll be in a cross fire purty soon,” promised Pete, grimly. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “Edwards paid his way, all right,” replied Hopalong. “If I do as well when + my time comes I won't do no kicking.” + </p> + <p> + “Yore time ain't coming that way,” responded Red, grinning. “You'll die a + natural death in bed, unless you gets to cussing me.” + </p> + <p> + “Shore there ain't no more, Buck?” Hopalong called. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “How are you, Kid?” cried Buck anxiously, bending over him, while others + looked to Barr's injuries. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Yore cross fire did it, Lacey; that was the whole thing,” Johnny smiled. + “Yo're all right!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes; I reckon so,” replied the foreman. “That's as—” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Johnny smiled. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX + </h2> + <h3> + BARB WIRE + </h3> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be a fool <i>all</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>us</i> waiting for hot irons!” + </p> + <p> + “That's right! Make a fool out of yoreself first thing!” snapped one of + the pair on the ground. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I would, only—” + </p> + <p> + “Quit chinning an' get busy,” remarked Red, climbing down. “The chute's + full; an' it's all yourn.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “He'll be missing every other one,” growled his heater with overflowing + malice. “That iron ain't cold, you Chinaman!” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Hullo, Hoppy!” came from the platform as Billy grinned his welcome + through the dust on his face. “Want a job?” + </p> + <p> + “Hullo yoreself,” growled Pete. “Stick yore iron on that fourth steer + before he gets out, an' talk less with yore mouth.” + </p> + <p> + “Pete's still rabid,” called Billy, performing the duty Pete suggested. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, verily,” endorsed his companion. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “All right; hot iron, you!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I feel like hell,” growled Red, reaching for another cup of coffee, but + there was no reply; he had voiced the feelings of all. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Fence! What fence?” exclaimed Red. + </p> + <p> + “Where's there any fence?” demanded Hopalong sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Twenty mile north of the creek,” replied the stranger, carefully packing + his pipe. + </p> + <p> + “What? Twenty miles north of the creek?” cried Hopalong. “What creek?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But it don't close this trail!” cried Hopalong in blank astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But they <i>can't</i> shut off this trail!” exclaimed Billy, with angry + emphasis. “They don't own it no more'n we do!” + </p> + <p> + “I know all about that—you heard me tell you what they said.” + </p> + <p> + “But how can we get past it?” demanded Hopalong. + </p> + <p> + “Around it, over the hills. You'll lose about three days doing it, too.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid that you'll have to fight if you do,” remarked the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think they are; an' there's twelve men in that outfit,” suggested + the stranger, offhand. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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'—” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI + </h2> + <h3> + THE FENCE + </h3> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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'—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, pshaw!” interposed Johnny. “There ain't no wind at all now. It's been + quiet for an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; an' that's one of the things that's worrying me. It means a change, + shore.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Good God! Get the boys!” cried Red, wheeling. “It's <i>changed</i>! An' + Pete an' Billy out there in front of—<i>there they go</i>!” 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Barb wire!” he muttered, amazed. “Barb wire! Why, what the—<i>Damn + that ranch</i>!” 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! + <i>are they killed</i>!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “That's awful!” he cried, stopping his limping horse near Hopalong. “An' + here come the fools that done it.” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Well, why didn't you go around?” + </p> + <p> + “Three thousand stampeding cattle don't go 'round wire fences in the + dark.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That so?” asked Hopalong. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Yo're real shore it is?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no use getting all het up,” rejoined Cranky Joe. “We ain't a-going to + fight 'less we has to. Better pay up.” + </p> + <p> + “Send yore bills to the ranch—if they're O. K., Buck'll pay 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “Nix; I take it when I can get it.” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't got no money with me that I can spare.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you can leave enough cows to buy back again.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes; you are. An' yo're going to pay,” snapped Cranky Joe. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You won't pay?” demanded the other, coldly. + </p> + <p> + “Not a plugged peso.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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—! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You fellers must own the earth, the way you act,” he said to Red and his + three companions. + </p> + <p> + “We ain't fencing it in to prove it,” rejoined Hopalong, his hand on Red's + arm. + </p> + <p> + Cranky Joe wheeled to rejoin his friends. “To-morrow,” he said, + significantly. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “West; three hours' ride along the fence. I could find 'em the darkest + night what ever happened; I was out there once,” Hawkins replied. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “What you going to do?” asked Red, beginning to cool down, and very + curious. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; tell us,” urged Johnny. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What's the rest?” demanded Johnny. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII + </h2> + <h3> + MR. BOGGS IS DISGUSTED + </h3> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>pat!</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't that a hell of a note?” he demanded plaintively as he paused for + breath. “Stick <i>yore</i> hat out, Cranky, an' see what <i>you</i> can + do,” he suggested, irritably. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Now</i> look at what they went an' done!” he yelled, running around in + a circle. “Damned outrage!” + </p> + <p> + “Huh!” snorted Cranky Joe with maddening superiority. “That ain't nothing—just + look at me!” + </p> + <p> + Boggs looked, very fixedly, and showed signs of apoplexy, and Cranky Joe + returned to his end of the room to resume his soliloquy. + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you come out an' take them cows!” inquired an unkind voice from + without. “Ain't changed yore mind, have you?” + </p> + <p> + “We'll give you a drink for half a cent a head—that's the regular + price for watering cows,” called another. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Boggs sucked his thumb tenderly and grinned. “After which—,” he + elated. + </p> + <p> + “After which—,” gravely repeated Terry, the others echoing it with + unrestrained joy. + </p> + <p> + “Then, mebby, I can get a drink,” chuckled Larkin, brightening under the + thought. + </p> + <p> + “The moon comes up at ten,” warned a voice. “It'll be full to-night—an' + there ain't many clouds in sight.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Ol' King Cole was a merry ol' soul</i>,” hummed McQuade, lightly. + </p> + <p> + “An'—a—merry—ol'—soul—was—he!—was—he!” + thundered the chorus, deep-toned and strong. “<i>He had a wife for every + toe, an' some toes counted three!</i>” + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” cried Meade, holding up his hand. + </p> + <p> + “<i>An' every wife had sixteen dogs, an' every dog a flea!</i>” shouted a + voice from the besiegers, followed by a roar of laughter. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What was that noise?” exclaimed Boggs in a low tone. “Are you all right, + Terry?” he asked, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + Three knocks on the wall replied to his question and then McQuade went + out, and three more knocks were heard. + </p> + <p> + “Wonder why they make that funny noise,” muttered Boggs. + </p> + <p> + “Bumped inter something, I reckon,” replied Jim Larkin. “Get out of my way—I'm + next.” + </p> + <p> + Boggs listened intently and then pushed Duke Lane back. “Don't like that—sounds + like a crack on the head. Hey, Jim! <i>Say</i> something!” he called + softly. The three knocks were repeated, but Boggs was suspicious and he + shook his head decisively. “To 'ell with the knocking—<i>say</i> + something!” + </p> + <p> + “Still got them twelve men?” asked a strange voice, pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + “<i>An' every dog a flea</i>,” hummed another around the corner. + </p> + <p> + “Hell!” shouted Boggs. “To the door, fellers! To the door—quick!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Fine place, all right,” thought Charley, grinning broadly. Then he turned + an agonized face to Tim, his chest rising. “<i>Hitch! Hitch!</i>” he + choked, fighting with all his will to master it. “<i>Hitch-chew! + Hitch-chew! Hitch-chew!</i>” he sneezed, loudly. There was a scramble + below and a ripple of mirth floated up to them. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Hitch-chew</i>?” jeered a voice. “What do we want to hit you for?” + </p> + <p> + “Look us over, children,” invited another. + </p> + <p> + “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.'” + </p> + <p> + “Jack-snipe, too,” laughed Pete. “Will somebody please hold the bag?” + </p> + <p> + The silence on the roof was profound and the three on the ground tried + again. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “Step this way, people; on-ly ten cents, two nickels,” interrupted Pete. + “They bark like dogs, an' howl like hell.” + </p> + <p> + “Shut up!” snapped Tim, angrily. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Go to hell!” snarled Duke, bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “Won't; they're laying for me down there.” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear,” was the reply, followed by gun-shots. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “You just bet yore shirt I do! An' I want a hole in it, too!” + </p> + <p> + “Ain't you got no sense?” + </p> + <p> + “Would I be up here if I had?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “We'll be lucky if we're live enough to worry about the sun's heat—<i>say</i>, + that was a <i>close</i> one!” exclaimed Duke, frantically trying to + flatten a little more. “Ah, thought so—there's that blamed moon!” + </p> + <p> + “Wish I'd gone out the window instead,” growled Charley, worming behind + Duke, to the latter's prompt displeasure. + </p> + <p> + “You fellers better come down, one at a time,” came from below. “Send yore + guns down first, too. Red's a blamed good shot.” + </p> + <p> + “Hope he croaks,” muttered Duke. “<i>That's</i> closer yet!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You damned near succeeded!” shouted Charley, grabbing at his head. “Why, + they're three hundred, an' you trying for 'em with a—<i>oh!</i>” he + moaned, writhing. + </p> + <p> + “Locoed fool!” swore Duke, “showing 'em where we are! They're doing good + enough as it is! You ought—got <i>you</i>, too!” + </p> + <p> + “<i>I'm</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + “Next,” suggested Pete, expectantly. + </p> + <p> + Tim tossed his Colt over the edge. “Here's another,” he swore, following + the weapon. He was grabbed and bound in a trice. + </p> + <p> + “When may we expect you, Mr. Duke?” asked Johnny, looking up. + </p> + <p> + “Presently, friend, presently. I want to—<i>wow</i>!” he finished, + and lost no time in his descent, which was meteoric. “That feller'll <i>kill</i> + somebody if he ain't careful!” he complained as Pete tied his hands behind + his back. + </p> + <p> + “You wait till daylight an' see,” cheerily replied Pete as the three were + led off to join their friends in the corral. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What d'you want?” asked Boggs, sullenly. + </p> + <p> + “Want you to stop this farce so I can go on with my drive.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I ain't holding you!” exploded the 4X foreman. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you worry about us dying with thirst; that ain't worrying us none.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Are any of them six hurt?” he finally asked. + </p> + <p> + “Only scratches an' sore heads,” responded Hopalong, smiling. “We ain't + tried to kill anybody, yet. I'm putting that up to you.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what do you want me to do?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I hate to quit,” replied the other, gloomily. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “You say them six ain't hurt?” + </p> + <p> + “No more'n I said.” + </p> + <p> + “An' if I give in will you treat my men right?” + </p> + <p> + “Shore.” + </p> + <p> + “When will you leave.” + </p> + <p> + “Just as soon as I get them two hundred three-year-olds.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII + </h2> + <h3> + TEX EWALT HUNTS TROUBLE + </h3> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's human nature, all right,” laughed Lucas. “That reminds me of + a little thing that happened to me once—” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I don't care a hang what you think; I say I didn't an'—” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Where's the rest of you fellers?” inquired Cowan. + </p> + <p> + “Stayed home to-night,” replied Hopalong. + </p> + <p> + “Got any loose money, you two?” asked Billy, grinning at Lucas and Wright. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “'Leven cents? What 'leven cents?” + </p> + <p> + “Postage stamps an' envelope for that love letter you writ.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll trim you fellers to-night, if you've got the nerve to play us,” + grinned Johnny, expectantly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Open game,” prompted Cowan, glancing meaningly at Elkins, who stood by + idly looking on, and without showing much interest in the scene. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But the best shot won't allus win in that game,” commented Elkins. + “That's one of the minor factors.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir! It's <i>luck</i> that counts there,” endorsed Bartlett, + quickly. “Luck, nine times out of ten.” + </p> + <p> + “Best shot ought to win,” declared Skinny Thompson. “It ain't all luck, + nohow. Where'd I be against Hoppy, there?” + </p> + <p> + “Won't neither!” cried Johnny, excitedly. “The man who sees the other + first wins out. That's wood-craft, an' brains.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Huh!” snorted Wood Wright, belligerently. “Any fool can <i>see</i>, but + he can't <i>shoot</i>! An' it's as much luck as wood-craft, too, an' don't + you forget it!” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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! <i>Shut up</i>! + For God's sake, <i>quit</i>! Never saw such a bunch of tinder—let + somebody drop a cold, burned-out match in this gang, an' hell's to pay. + Here, <i>all</i> of you, play cards an' forget about cross-tag in the + scrub. You'll be arguing about playing marbles in the dark purty soon!” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” muttered Johnny, “but just the same, the man who—” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind about the man who! Did you hear <i>me</i>?” yelled Cowan, + swiftly reaching for a bucket of water. “<i>This</i> is a game where <i>I</i> + gets the most in, an' don't forget it!” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>course</i>, I wouldn't take no such advantage of a lame + man.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 + <i>have</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + “Me too—only the other way,” was the instant rejoinder. “Have it + yore own way.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Clannish, ain't they?” remarked Elkins, gravely. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>am</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + The faces around him cleared gradually and heads began to nod in + comprehending consent. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I reckon you have,” agreed Cowan, slowly, but the frown was not + entirely gone. “Yes, I reckon—mebby—you have.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV + </h2> + <h3> + THE MASTER + </h3> + <p> + 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 <i>him</i> + do some of the moving about. I'll be here waiting for you.” + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>zipped</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + “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>I</i> never did no ambushing, you coyote.” + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>you</i>, all right.” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>this</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “It ain't over yet, not by a damned sight!” came the retort. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Cloud-burst!” he yelled. “Run, Tex! Run for yore life! Cloud-burst up the + valley! Run, you fool; <i>Run</i>!” + </p> + <p> + 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—!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Cassidy, yo're the boss,” he said. “Shake.” + </p> + <p> + They shook. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Bar-20 Days, by Clarence E. 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