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