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diff --git a/old/br20d10.txt b/old/br20d10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..af97709 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/br20d10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8071 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Bar-20 Days, by Clarence E. Mulford +(#2 in our series by Clarence E. Mulford) + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Bar-20 Days + +Author: Clarence E. Mulford + +Release Date: January, 2004 [EBook #4922] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on March 31, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, BAR-20 DAYS *** + + + + +Etext prepared by Dagny, dagnypg@yahoo.com + and John Bickers, jbickers@ihug.co.nz + + + + BAR-20 DAYS + + BY + + CLARENCE E. MULFORD + + + + AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED TO "M. D." + + + + + + BAR-20 DAYS + + + + CHAPTER I + + ON A STRANGE RANGE + +Two tired but happy punchers rode into the coast town and dismounted +in front of the best hotel. Putting up their horses as quickly as +possible they made arrangements for sleeping quarters and then +hastened out to attend to business. Buck had been kind to delegate +this mission to them and they would feel free to enjoy what pleasures +the town might afford. While at that time the city was not what it is +now, nevertheless it was capable of satisfying what demands might be +made upon it by two very active and zealous cow-punchers. Their first +experience began as they left the hotel. + +"Hey, you cow-wrastlers!" said a not unpleasant voice, and they turned +suspiciously as it continued: "You've shore got to hang up them guns +with the hotel clerk while you cavorts around on this range. This is +/fence/ country." + +They regarded the speaker's smiling face and twinkling eyes and +laughed. "Well, yo're the foreman if you owns that badge," grinned +Hopalong, cheerfully. "We don't need no guns, nohow, in this town, we +don't. Plumb forgot we was toting them. But mebby you can tell us +where lawyer Jeremiah T. Jones grazes in daylight?" + +"Right over yonder, second floor," replied the marshal. "An' come to +think of it, mebby you better leave most of yore cash with the guns-- +somebody'll take it away from you if you don't. It'd be an awful +temptation, an' flesh is weak." + +"Huh!" laughed Johnny, moving back into the hotel to leave his gun, +closely followed by Hopalong. "Anybody that can turn that little trick +on me an' Hoppy will shore earn every red cent; why, we've been to +Kansas City!" + +As they emerged again Johnny slapped his pocket, from which sounded a +musical jingling. "If them weak people try anything on us, we may come +between them and /their/ money!" he boasted. + +"From the bottom of my heart I pity you," called the marshal, watching +them depart, a broad smile illuminating his face. "In about twenty- +four hours they'll put up a holler for me to go git it back for 'em," +he muttered. "An' I almost believe I'll do it, too. I ain't never seen +none of that breed what ever left a town without empty pockets an' +aching heads--an' the smarter they think they are the easier they +fall." A fleeting expression of discontent clouded the smile, for the +lure of the open range is hard to resist when once a man has ridden +free under its sky and watched its stars. "An' I wish I was one of 'em +again," he muttered, sauntering on. + +Jeremiah T. Jones, Esq., was busy when his door opened, but he leaned +back in his chair and smiled pleasantly at their bow-legged entry, +waving them towards two chairs. Hopalong hung his sombrero on a letter +press and tipped his chair back against the wall; Johnny hung grimly +to his hat, sat stiffly upright until he noticed his companion's pose, +and then, deciding that everything was all right, and that Hopalong +was better up in etiquette than himself, pitched his sombrero +dexterously over the water pitcher and also leaned against the wall. +Nobody could lose him when it came to doing the right thing. + +"Well, gentlemen, you look tired and thirsty. This is considered good +for all human ailments of whatsoever nature, degree, or wheresoever +located, in part or entirety, /ab initio/," Mr. Jones remarked, +filling glasses. There was no argument and when the glasses were +empty, he continued: "Now what can I do for you? From the Bar-20? Ah, +yes; I was expecting you. We'll get right at it," and they did. Half +an hour later they emerged on the street, free to take in the town, or +to have the town take them in,--which was usually the case. + +"What was that he said for us to keep away from?" asked Johnny with +keen interest. + +"Sh! Not so loud," chuckled Hopalong, winking prodigiously. + +Johnny pulled tentatively at his upper lip but before he could reply +his companion had accosted a stranger. + +"Friend, we're pilgrims in a strange land, an' we don’t know the +trails. Can you tell us where the docks are?" + +"Certainly; glad to. You'll find them at the end of this street," and +he smilingly waved them towards the section of the town which Jeremiah +T. Jones had specifically and earnestly warned them to avoid. + +"Wonder if you're as thirsty as me?" solicitously inquired Hopalong of +his companion. + +"I was just wondering the same," replied Johnny. "Say," he confided in +a lower voice, "blamed if I don't feel sort of lost without that Colt. +Every time I lifts my right laig she goes too high--don't feel +natural, nohow." + +"Same here; I'm allus feeling to see if I lost it," Hopalong +responded. "There ain't no rubbing, no weight, nor nothing." + +"Wish I had something to put in its place, blamed if I don't." + +"Why, now yo're talking--mebby we can buy something," grinned +Hopalong, happily. "Here's a hardware store--come on in." + +The clerk looked up and laid aside his novel. "Good-morning, +gentlemen; what can I do for you? We've just got in some fine new +rifles," he suggested. + +The customers exchanged looks and it was Hopalong who first found his +voice. "Nope, don't want no rifles," he replied, glancing around. "To +tell the truth, I don't know just what we do want, but we want +something, all right--got to have it. It's a funny thing, come to +think of it; I can't never pass a hardware store without going in an' +buying something. I've been told my father was the same way, so I must +inherit it. It's the same with my pardner, here, only he gets his +weakness from his whole family, and it's different from mine. He can't +pass a saloon without going in an' buying something." + +"Yo're a cheerful liar, an' you know it," retorted Johnny. "You know +the reason why I goes in saloons so much--you'd never leave 'em if I +didn't drag you out. He inherits that weakness from his grandfather, +twice removed," he confided to the astonished clerk, whose expression +didn't know what to express. + +"Let's see: a saw?" soliloquized Hopalong. "Nope; got lots of 'em, an' +they're all genuine Colts," he mused thoughtfully. "Axe? Nails? +Augurs? Corkscrews? Can we use a corkscrew, Johnny? Ah, thought I'd +wake you up. Now, what was it Cookie said for us to bring him? Bacon? +Got any bacon? Too bad--oh, don't apologize; it's all right. Cold +chisels--that's the thing if you ain't got no bacon. Let me see a +three-pound cold chisel about as big as that,"--extending a huge and +crooked forefinger,--"an' with a big bulge at one end. Straight in the +middle, circling off into a three-cornered wavy edge on the other +side. What? Look here! You can't tell us nothing about saloons that we +don't know. I want a three-pound cold chisel, any kind, so it's cold." + +Johnny nudged him. "How about them wedges?" + +"Twenty-five cents a pound," explained the clerk, groping for his +bearings. + +"They might do," Hopalong muttered, forcing the article mentioned into +his holster. "Why, they're quite hocus-pocus. You take the brother to +mine, Johnny." + +"Feels good, but I dunno," his companion muttered. "Little wide at the +sharp end. Hey, got any loose shot?" he suddenly asked, whereat +Hopalong beamed and the clerk gasped. It didn't seem to matter whether +they bought bacon, cold chisels, wedges, or shot; yet they looked +sober. + +"Yes, sir; what size?" + +"Three pounds of shot, I said!" Johnny rumbled in his throat. "Never +mind what size." + +"We never care about size when we buy shot," Hopalong smiled. "But, +Johnny, wouldn't them little screws be better?" he asked, pointing +eagerly. + +"Mebby; reckon we better get 'em mixed--half of each," Johnny gravely +replied. "Anyhow, there ain't much difference." + +The clerk had been behind that counter for four years, and executing +and filling orders had become a habit with him; else he would have +given them six pounds of cold chisels and corkscrews, mixed. His mouth +was still open when he weighed out the screws. + +"Mix 'em! Mix 'em!" roared Hopalong, and the stunned clerk complied, +and charged them for the whole purchase at the rate set down for +screws. + +Hopalong started to pour his purchase into the holster which, being +open at the bottom, gayly passed the first instalment through to the +floor. He stopped and looked appealingly at Johnny, and Johnny, in +pain from holding back screams of laughter, looked at him indignantly. +Then a guileless smile crept over Hopalong's face and he stopped the +opening with a wad of wrapping paper and disposed of the shot and +screws, Johnny following his laudable example. After haggling a moment +over the bill they paid it and walked out, to the apparent joy of the +clerk. + +"Don't laugh, Kid; you'll spoil it all," warned Hopalong, as he noted +signs of distress on his companion's face. "Now, then; what was it we +said about thirst? Come on; I see one already." + +Having entered the saloon and ordered, Hopalong beamed upon the +bartender and shoved his glass back again. "One more, kind stranger; +it's good stuff." + +"Yes, feels like a shore-enough gun," remarked Johnny, combining two +thoughts in one expression, which is brevity. + +The bartender looked at him quickly and then stood quite still and +listened, a puzzled expression on his face. + +/Tic--tickety-tick--tic-tic/, came strange sounds from the other side +of the bar. Hopalong was intently studying a chromo on the wall and +Johnny gazed vacantly out of the window. + +"What's that? What in the deuce is that?" quickly demanded the man +with the apron, swiftly reaching for his bung-starter. + +/Tickety-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic/, the noise went on, and Hopalong, slowly +rolling his eyes, looked at the floor. A screw rebounded and struck +his foot, while shot were rolling recklessly. + +"Them's making the noise," Johnny explained after critical survey. + +"Hang it! I knowed we ought to 'a' got them wedges!" Hopalong +exclaimed, petulantly, closing the bottom of the sheath. "Why, I won't +have no gun left soon 'less I holds it in." The complaint was +plaintive. + +"Must be filtering through the stopper," Johnny remarked. "But don't +it sound nice, especially when it hits that brass cuspidor!" + +The bartender, grasping the mallet even more firmly, arose on his toes +and peered over the bar, not quite sure of what he might discover. He +had read of infernal machines although he had never seen one. "What +the blazes!" he exclaimed in almost a whisper; and then his face went +hard. "You get out of here, quick! You've had too much already! I've +seen drunks, but-- G'wan! Get out!" + +"But we ain't begun yet," Hopalong interposed hastily. "You see--" + +"Never mind what I see! I'd hate to see what you'll be seeing before +long. God help you when you finish!" rather impolitely interrupted the +bartender. He waved the mallet and made for the end of the counter +with no hesitancy and lots of purpose in his stride. "G'wan, now! Get +out!" + +"Come on, Johnny; I'd shoot him only we didn't put no powder with the +shot," Hopalong remarked sadly, leading the way out of the saloon and +towards the hardware store. + +"You better get out!" shouted the man with the mallet, waving the +weapon defiantly. "An' don't you never come back again, neither," he +warned. + +"Hey, it leaked," Hopalong said pleasantly as he closed the door of +the hardware store behind him, whereupon the clerk jumped and reached +for the sawed-off shotgun behind the counter. Sawed-off shotguns are +great institutions for arguing at short range, almost as effective as +dynamite in clearing away obstacles. + +"Don't you come no nearer!" he cried, white of face. "You git out, or +I'll let /this/ leak, an' give you /all/ shot, an' more than you can +carry!" + +"Easy! Easy there, pardner; we want them wedges," Hopalong replied, +somewhat hurriedly. "The others ain't no good; I choked on the very +first screw. Why, I wouldn't hurt you for the world," Hopalong assured +him, gazing interestedly down the twin tunnels. + +Johnny leaned over a nail keg and loosed the shot and screws into it, +smiling with childlike simplicity as he listened to the +tintinnabulation of the metal shower among the nails. "It /does/ drop +when you let go of it," he observed. + +"Didn't I tell you it would? I allus said so," replied Hopalong, +looking back to the clerk and the shotgun. "Didn't I, stranger?" + +The clerk's reply was a guttural rumbling, ninety per cent profanity, +and Hopalong, nodding wisely, picked up two wedges. "Johnny, here's +yore gun. If this man will stop talking to hisself and drop that lead- +sprayer long enough to take our good money, we'll wear em." + +He tossed a gold coin on the table, and the clerk, still holding +tightly to the shotgun, tossed the coin into the cash box and +cautiously slid the change across the counter. Hopalong picked up the +money and, emptying his holster into the nail keg, followed his +companion to the street, in turn followed slowly by the suspicious +clerk. The door slammed shut behind them, the bolt shot home, and the +clerk sat down on a box and cogitated. + +Hopalong hooked his arm through Johnny's and started down the street. +"I wonder what that feller thinks about us, anyhow. I'm glad Buck sent +Red over to El Paso instead of us. Won't he be mad when we tell him +all the fun we've had?" he asked, grinning broadly. + +They were to meet Red at Dent's store on the way back and ride home +together. + + + +They were strangely clad for their surroundings, the chaps glaringly +out of place in the Seaman's Port, and winks were exchanged by the +regular /habitues/ when the two punchers entered the room and called +for drinks. They were very tired and a little under the weather, for +they had made the most of their time and spent almost all of their +money; but any one counting on robbing them would have found them +sober enough to look out for themselves. Night had found them ready to +go to the hotel, but on the way they felt that they must have one more +bracer, and finish their exploration of Jeremiah T. Jones' tabooed +section. The town had begun to grow wearisome and they were vastly +relieved when they realized that the rising sun would see them in the +saddle and homeward bound, headed for God's country, which was the +only place for cow-punchers after all. + +"Long way from the home port, ain't you, mates?" queried a tar of +Hopalong. Another seaman went to the bar to hold a short, whispered +consultation with the bartender, who at first frowned and then finally +nodded assent. + +"Too far from home, if that's what yo're driving at," Hopalong +replied. "Blast these hard trails--my feet are shore on the prod. Ever +meet my side pardner? Johnny, here's a friend of mine, a salt-water +puncher, an' he's welcome to the job, too." + +Johnny turned his head ponderously and nodded. "Pleased to meet you, +stranger. An' what'll you all have?" + +"Old Holland, mate," replied the other, joining them. + +"All up!" invited Hopalong, waving them forward. "Might as well do +things right or not at all. Them's my sentiments, which I holds as +proper. Plain rye, general, if you means me," he replied to the +bartender's look of inquiry. + +He drained the glass and then made a grimace. "Tastes a little off-- +reckon it's my mouth; nothing tastes right in this cussed town. Now, +up on our--" He stopped and caught at the bar. "Holy smoke! That's +shore alcohol!" + +Johnny was relaxing and vainly trying to command his will power. +"Something's wrong; what's the matter?" he muttered sleepily. + +"Guess you meant beer; you ain't used to drinking whiskey," grinned +the bartender, derisively, and watching him closely. + +"I can--drink as much whiskey as--" and, muttering, Johnny slipped to +the floor. + +"That wasn't whiskey!" cried Hopalong, sleepily. "that liquor was +/fixed/!" he shouted, sudden anger bracing him. "An' I'm going to fix +/you/, too!" he added, reaching for his gun, and drawing forth a +wedge. His sailor friend leaped at him, to go down like a log, and +Hopalong, seething with rage, wheeled and threw the weapon at the man +behind the bar, who also went down. The wedge, glancing from his +skull, swept a row of bottles and glasses from the shelf and, +caroming, went through the window. + +In an instant Hopalong was the vortex of a mass of struggling men and, +handicapped as he was, fought valiantly, his rage for the time +neutralizing the effects of the drug. But at last, too sleepy to stand +or think, he, too, went down. + +"By the Lord, that man's a fighter!" enthusiastically remarked the +leader, gently touching his swollen eye. "George must 'a' put an awful +dose in that grog." + +"Lucky for us he didn't have no gun--the wedge was bad enough," +groaned a man on the floor, slowly sitting up. "Whoever swapped him +that wedge for his gun did us a good turn, all right." + +A companion tentatively readjusted his lip. "I don't envy Wilkins his +job breaking in that man when he gets awake." + +"Don't waste no time, mates," came the order. "Up with 'em an' aboard. +We've done our share; let the mate do his, an' be hanged. Hullo, +Portsmouth; coming around, eh?" he asked the man who had first felt +the wedge. "I was scared you was done for that time." + +"No more shanghaiing hair pants for me, no more!" thickly replied +Portsmouth. "Oh, my head, it's bust open!" + +"Never mind about the bartender--let him alone; we can't waste no time +with him now!" commanded the leader sharply. "Get these fellers on +board before we're caught with 'em. We want our money after that." + +"All clear!" came a low call from the lookout at the door, and soon a +shadowy mass surged across the street and along a wharf. There was a +short pause as a boat emerged out of the gloom, some whispered orders, +and then the squeaking of oars grew steadily fainter in the direction +of a ship which lay indistinct in the darkness. + + + + CHAPTER II + + THE REBOUND + +A man moaned and stirred restlessly in a bunk, muttering incoherently. +A stampeded herd was thundering over him, the grinding hoofs beating +him slowly to death. He saw one mad steer stop and lower its head to +gore him and just as the sharp horns touched his skin, he awakened. +Slowly opening his bloodshot eyes he squinted about him, sick, weak, +racking with pain where heavy shoes had struck him in the melee, his +head reverberating with roars which seemed almost to split it open. +Slowly he regained his full senses and began to make out his +surroundings. He was in a bunk which moved up and down, from side to +side, and was never still. There was a small, round window near his +feet--thank heaven it was open, for he was almost suffocated by the +foul air and the heat. Where was he? What had happened? Was there a +salty odor in the air, or was he still dreaming? Painfully raising +himself on one elbow he looked around and caught sight of a man in the +bunk across. It was Johnny Nelson! Then, bit by bit, the whole thing +came to him and he cursed heartily as he reviewed it and reached the +only possible conclusion. He was at sea! He, Hopalong Cassidy, the +best fighting unit of a good fighting outfit, shanghaied and at sea! +Drugged, beaten, and stolen to labor on a ship. + +Johnny was muttering and moaning and Hopalong slowly climbed out of +the narrow bunk, unsteadily crossed the moving floor, and shook him. +"Reckon he's in a stampede, too!" he growled. "They shore raised h--l +with us. Oh, what a beating we got! But we'll pass it along with +trimmings." + +Johnny's eyes opened and he looked around in confusion. "Wha', +Hopalong!" + +"Yes; it's me, the prize idiot of a blamed good pair of 'em. How'd you +feel?" + +"Sleepy an' sick. My eyes ache an' my head's splitting. Where's Buck +an' the rest?" + +Hopalong sat down on the edge of the bunk and sore luridly, +eloquently, beautifully, with a fervor and polish which left nothing +to be desired in that line, and caused his companion to gaze at him in +astonishment. + +"I had a mighty bad dream, but you must 'a' had one a whole lot worse, +to listen to you," Johnny remarked. "Gee, you're going some! What's +the matter with you. You sick, too?" + +Thereupon Hopalong unfolded the tale of woe and when Johnny had +grasped its import and knew that his dream had been a stern reality, +he straightway loosed his vocabulary and earned a draw. "Well, I'm +going back again," he finished, with great decision, arising to make +good his assertion. + +"Swim or walk?" asked Hopalong nonchalantly. + +"Huh! Oh, Lord!" + +"Well, I ain't going to either swim or walk," Hopalong soliloquized. +"I'm just going to stay right here in this one-by-nothing cellar an' +spoil the health an' good looks of any pirate that comes down that +ladder to get me out." He looked around, interested in life once more, +and his trained eye grasped the strategic worth of their position. +"Only one at a time, an' down that ladder," he mused, thoughtfully. +"Why, Johnny, we owns this range as long as we wants to. They can't +get us out. But, say, if only we had our guns!" he sighed, +regretfully. + +"You're right as far as you go; but you don't go to the eating part. +We'll starve, an' we ain't got no water. I can drink about a bucketful +right now," moodily replied his companion. + +"Well, yo're right; but mebby we can find food an' water." + +"Don't see no signs of none. Hey!" Johnny exclaimed, smiling faintly +in his misery. "Let's get busy an' burn the cussed thing up! Got any +matches?" + +"First you want to drown yoreself swimming, an' now you want to roast +the pair of us to death," Hopalong retorted, eyeing the rear wall of +the room. "Wonder what's on the other side of that partition?" + +Johnny looked. "Why, water; an' lots of it, too." + +"Naw; the water is on the other sides." + +"Then how do I know?--sh! I hear somebody coming on the roof." + +"Tumble back in yore bunk--quick!" Hopalong hurriedly whispered. "Be +asleep--if he comes down here it'll be our deal." + +The steps overhead stopped at the companionway and a shadow appeared +across the small patch of sunlight on the floor of the forecastle. +"Tumble up here, you blasted loafers!" roared a deep voice. + +No reply came from the forecastle--the silence was unbroken. + +"If I have to come down there I'll--" the first mate made promises in +no uncertain tones and in very impolite language. He listened for a +moment, and having very good ears and hearing nothing, made more +promises and came down the ladder quickly and nimbly. + +"/I'll/ bring you to," he muttered, reaching a brawny hand for +Hopalong's nose, and missing. But he made contact with his own face, +which stopped a short-arm blow from the owner of the aforesaid nose, a +jolt full of enthusiasm and purpose. Beautiful and dazzling flashes of +fire filled the air and just then something landed behind his ear and +prolonged the pyrotechnic display. When the skyrockets went up he lost +interest in the proceedings and dropped to the floor like a bag of +meal. + +Hopalong cut another piece from the rope in his hand and watched his +companion's busy fingers. "Tie him good, Johnny; he's the only ace +we've drawn in this game so far, an' we mustn't lose him." + +Johnny tied an extra knot for luck and leaned forward, his eyes +riveted on the bump under the victim's coat. His darting hand brought +into sight that which pleased him greatly. "Oh, joy! Here, Hoppy; you +take it." + +Hopalong turned the weapon over in his hand, spun the cylinder and +gloated, the clicking sweet music to his ears. "Plumb full, too! I +never reckoned I'd ever be so tickled over a snub-nosed gun like this +--but I feel like singing!" + +"An' I feel like dying," grunted Johnny, grabbing at his stomach. "If +the blamed shack would only stand still!" he groaned, gazing at the +floor with strong disgust. "I don't reckon I've ever been so blamed +sick in all my--" the sentence was unfinished, for the open porthole +caught his eye and he leaped forward to use it for a collar. + +Hopalong gazed at him in astonishment and sudden pity took possession +of him as his pallid companion left the porthole and faced him. + +"You ought to have something to eat, Kid--I'm purty hungry myself-- +what the blazes!" he exclaimed, for Johnny's protesting wail was +finished outside the port. Then a light broke upon him and he wondered +how soon it would be his turn to pay tribute to Neptune. + +"Mr. Wilkins!" shouted a voice from the deck, and Hopalong moved back +a step. "Mr. Wilkins!" After a short silence the voice soliloquized: +"Guess he changed his mind about it; I'll get 'em up for him," and +feet came into view. When halfway down the ladder the second mate +turned his head and looked blankly down a gun barrel while a quiet but +angry voice urged him further: "Keep a-coming, keep a-coming!" The +second mate complained, but complied. + +"Stick 'em up higher--now, Johnny, wobble around behind the nice man +an' take /his/ gun--you shut yore yap! I'm bossing this trick, not +you. Got it, Kid? There's the rope--that's right. Nobody'd think you +sick to see you work. Well, that's a good draw; but it's only a pair +of aces against a full, at that. Wonder who'll be the next. Hope it's +the foreman." + +Johnny, keeping up by sheer grit, pointed to the rear wall. "What +about that?" + +For reply his companion walked over to it, put his shoulder to it and +pushed. He stepped back and hurled his weight against it, but it was +firm despite its squeaking protest. Then he examined it foot by foot +and found a large knot, which he drove in by a blow of the gun. +Bending, he squinted through the opening for a full minute and then +reported: + +"Purty black in there at this end, but up at the other there's a light +from a hole in the roof, an' I could see boxes an' things like that. I +reckon it's the main cellar." + +"If we could get out at the other end with that gun you've got we +could raise blazes for a while," suggested Johnny. "Anyhow, mebby they +can come at us that way when they find out what we've gone an' done." + +"Yo're right," Hopalong replied, looking around. Seeing an iron bar he +procured it and, pushing it through the knot hole in the partition, +pulled. The board, splitting and cracking under the attack, finally +broke from its fastenings with a sharp report, and Hopalong, pulling +it aside, stepped out of sight of his companion. Johnny was grinning +at the success of his plan when he was interrupted. + +"Ahoy, down there!" yelled a stentorian voice from above. "Mr. +Wilkins! What the devil are you doing so long?" and after a very short +wait other feet came into sight. Just then the second mate, having +managed to slip off the gag, shouted warning: + +"Look out, Captain! They've got us and our guns! One of them has--" +but Johnny's knee thudded into his chest and ended the sentence as a +bullet sent a splinter flying from under the captain's foot. + +"Hang these guns!" Johnny swore, and quickly turned to secure the gag +in the mouth of the offending second mate. "You make any more yaps +like that an' I'll wing you for keeps with yore own gun!" he snapped. +"We're caught in yore trap an' we'll fight to a finish. You'll be the +first to go under if you gets any smart." + +"Ahoy, men!" roared the captain in a towering rage, dancing +frantically about on the deck and shouting for the crew to join him. +He filled the air with picturesque profanity and stamped and yelled in +passion at such rank mutiny. + +"Hand grenades! Hand grenades!" he cried. Then he remembered that his +two mates were also below and would share in the mutineers' fate, and +his rage increased at his galling helplessness. When he had calmed +sufficiently to think clearly he realized that it was certain death +for any one to attempt going down the ladder, and that his must be a +waiting game. He glanced at his crew, thirteen good men, all armed +with windlass bars and belaying pins, and gave them orders. Two were +to watch the hatch and break the first head to appear, while the +others returned to work. Hunger and thirst would do the rest. And what +joy would be his when they were forced to surrender! + +Hopalong groped his way slowly towards the patch of light, barking his +shins, stumbling and falling over the barrels and crates and finally, +losing his footing at a critical moment, tumbled down upon a box +marked "Cotton." There was a splintering crash and the very faint +clink of metal. Dazed and bruised, he sat up and felt of himself--and +found that he had lost his gun in the fall. + +"Now, where in blazes did it fly to?" he muttered angrily, peering +about anxiously. His eyes suddenly opened their widest and he stared +in surprise at a field gun which covered him; and then he saw parts of +two more. + +"Good Lord! Is this a gunboat?" he cried. "Are we up against +bluejackets an' Uncle Sam?" He glanced quickly back the way he had +come when he heard Johnny's shot, but he could see nothing. He figured +that Johnny had sense enough to call for help if he needed it, and put +that possibility out of his mind. "Naw, this ain't no gunboat--the +Government don't steal men; it enlists 'em. But it's a funny pile of +junk, all the same. Where in blazes is that toy gun? /Well/, I'll be +hanged!" and he plunged toward the "Cotton" box he had burst in his +descent, and worked at it frantically. + +"Winchesters! Winchesters!" he cried, dragging out two of them. +"Whoop! Now for the cartridges--there shore must be some to go with +these guns!" He saw a keg marked "Nails," and managed to open it after +great labor--and found it full of army Colts. Forcing down the desire +to turn a handspring, he slipped one of the six-shooters in his empty +holster and patted it lovingly. "Old friend, I'm shore glad to see +you, all right. You've been used, but that don't make no difference." +Searching further, he opened a full box of /machetes/, and soon after +found cartridges of many kinds and calibres. It took him but a few +minutes to make his selection and cram his pockets with them. Then he +filled two Colts and two Winchesters--and executed a short jig to work +off the dangerous pressure of his exuberance. + +"But what an unholy lot of weapons," he soliloquized on his way back +to Johnny. "An' they're all second-hand. Cannons, too--an' +/machetes/!" he exclaimed, suddenly understanding. "Jumping +Jerusalem!--a filibustering expedition bound for Cuba, or one of them +wildcat republics down south! Oh, ho, my friends; I see where you have +bit off more'n you can chew." In his haste to impart the joyous news +to his companion, he barked his shins shamefully. + +"'Way down south in the land o' cotton, cinnamon seed an''--whoa, +blast you!" and Hopalong stuck his head through the opening in the +partition and grinned. "Heard you shoot, Kid; I reckoned you might +need me--an' these!" he finished, looking fondly upon the weapons as +he shoved them into the forecastle. + +Johnny groaned and held his stomach, but his eyes lighted up when he +saw the guns, and he eagerly took one of each kind, a faint smile +wreathing his lips. "Now we'll show these water snakes what kind of +men they stole," he threatened. + +Up on the deck the choleric captain still stamped and swore, and his +crew, with well-concealed mirth, went about their various duties as if +they were accustomed to have shanghaied men act this way. They +sympathized with the unfortunate pair, realizing how they themselves +would feel if shanghaied to break broncos. + +Hogan, A. B., stated the feelings of his companions very well in his +remarks to the men who worked alongside: "In me hear-rt I'm dommed +glad av it, Yensen. I hope they bate the old man at his own game. 'T +is a shame in these days for honest men to be took in that unlawful +way. I've heard me father tell of the press gangs on the other side, +an' 't is small business." + +Yensen looked up to reply, chanced to glance aft, and dropped his +calking iron in his astonishment. "Yumping Yimminy! Luk at dat +fallar!" + +Hogan looked. "The deuce! That's a man after me own heat-rt! Kape yore +pagan mouth shut! If ye take a hand agin 'em I'll swab up the deck wid +yez. G'wan wor-rking like a sane man, ye ijit!" + +"Ay ent ban fight wit dat fallar! Luk at the gun!" + +A man had climbed out of the after hatch and was walking rapidly +towards them, a rifle in his hands, while at his thigh swung a Colt. +He watched the two seamen closely and caught sight of Hogan's +twinkling blue eyes, and a smile quivered about his mouth. Hogan shut +and opened one eye and went on working. + +As soon as Hopalong caught sight of the captain, the rifle went up and +he announced his presence without loss of time. "Throw up yore hands, +you pole-cat! I'm running this ranch from now on!" + +The captain wheeled with a jerk and his mouth opened, and then clicked +shut as he started forward, his rage acting galvanically. But he +stopped quickly enough when he looked down the barrel of the +Winchester and glared at the cool man behind it. + +"What the blank are you doing?" he yelled. + +"Well, I ain't kidnapping cow-punchers to steal my boat," replied +Hopalong. "An' you fellers stand still or I'll drop you cold!" he +ordered to the assembled and restless crew. "Johnny!" he shouted, and +his companion popped up through the hatch like a jack-in-the-box. +"Good boy, Johnny. Tie this coyote foreman like you did the others," +he ordered. While Johnny obeyed, Hopalong looked around the circle, +and his eyes rested on Hogan's face, studying it, and found something +there which warmed his heart. "Friend, do you know the back trail? Can +you find that runt of a town we left?" + +"Aye, aye." + +"Shore, you; who'd you think I was talking to? Can you find the way +back, the way we came?" + +"Shure an' I can that, if I'm made to." + +"You'll swing for mutiny if you do, you bilge-wallering pirate!" +roared the trussed captain. "Take that gun away from him, d'ye hear!" +he yelled at the crew. "I'm captain of this ship, an' I'll hang every +last one of you if you don't obey orders! This is mutiny!" + +"You won't do no hanging with that load of weapons below!" retorted +Hopalong. "Uncle Sam is looking for filibusters--this here gun is +'cotton,'" he said, grinning. He turned to the crew. "But you fellers +are due to get shot if you sees her through," he added. + +"I'm captain of this ship--" began the helpless autocrat. + +"You shore look like it, all right," Hopalong replied, smiling. "If +yo're the captain you order her turned around and headed over the back +trail, or I'll drop you overboard off yore own ship!" Then fierce +anger at the thought of the indignities and injuries he and his +companion had suffered swept over him and prompted a one-minute speech +which left no doubt as to what he would do if his demand was not +complied with. Johnny, now free to watch the crew, added a word or two +of endorsement, and he acted a little as if he rather hoped it would +not be complied with: he itched for an excuse. + +The captain did some quick thinking; the true situation could not be +disguised, and with a final oath of rage he gave in. "'Bout ship, +Hogan; nor' by nor'west," he growled, and the seaman started away to +execute the command, but was quickly stopped by Hopalong. + +"Hogan, is that right?" he demanded. "No funny business, or we'll +clean up the whole bunch, an' blamed quick, too!" + +"That's the course, sor. That's the way back to town. I can navigate, +an' me orders are plain. Ye're Irish, by the way av ye, and 't is back +to town ye go, sor!" He turned to the crew: "Stand by, me boys." And +in a short time the course was nor' by nor'west. + +The return journey was uneventful and at nightfall the ship lay at +anchor off the low Texas coast, and a boat loaded with men grounded on +the sandy beach. Four of them arose and leaped out into the mild surf +and dragged the boat as high up on the sand as it would go. Then the +two cow-punchers followed and one of them gave a low-spoken order to +the Irishman at his side. + +"Yes, sor," replied Hogan, and hastened to help the captain out onto +the sand and to cut the ropes which bound him. "Do ye want the mates, +too, sor?" he asked, glancing at the trussed men in the boat. + +"No; the foreman's enough," Hopalong responded, handing his weapons to +Johnny and turning to face the captain, who was looking into Johnny's +gun as he rubbed his arms to restore perfect circulation. + +"Now, you flat-faced coyote, yo're going to get the beating of yore +life, an' I'm going to give it to you!" Hopalong cried, warily +advancing upon the man whom he held to be responsible for the miseries +of the past twenty-four hours. "You didn't give me a square deal, but +I'm man enough to give you one! When you drug an' steal any more cow- +punchers--" action stopped his words. + +It was a great fight. A filibustering sea captain is no more peaceful +than a wild boar and about as dangerous; and while this one was not at +his best, neither was Hopalong. The latter luckily had acquired some +knowledge of the rudiments of the game and had the vigor of youth to +oppose to the captain's experience and his infuriated but well-timed +rushes. The seamen, for the honor of their calling and perhaps with a +mind to the future, cheered on the captain and danced up and down in +their delight and excitement. They had a lot of respect for the +prowess of their master, and for the man who could stand up against +him in a fair and square fist fight. To give assistance to either in a +fair fight was not to be thought of, and Johnny's gun was sufficient +after-excuse for non-interference. + +The /sop! sop!/ of the punishing blows as they got home and the steady +circling of Hopalong in avoiding the dangerous attacks, went on minute +after minute. Slowly the captain's strength was giving out, and he +resorted to trickery as his last chance. Retreating, he half raised +his arms and lowered them as if weary, ready as a cat to strike with +all his weight if the other gave an opening. It ought to have worked-- +it had worked before--but Hopalong was there to win, and without the +momentary hesitation of the suspicious fighter he followed the retreat +and his hard hand flashed in over the captain's guard a fraction of a +second sooner than that surprised gentleman anticipated. The ferocious +frown gave way to placid peace and the captain reclined at the feet of +the battered victor, who stood waiting for him to get up and fight. +The captain lay without a sign of movement and as Hopalong wondered, +Hogan was the first to speak. + +"Fer the love av hiven, let him be! Ye needn't wait--he's done; I know +by the sound av it!" he exclaimed, stepping forward. "'T was a purty +blow, an' 't was a gr-rand foight ye put up, sor! A gr-rand foight, +but any more av that is murder! 'T is an Irishman's game, sor, an' ye +did yersilf proud. But now let him be--no man, least av all a +Dootchman, iver tuk more than that an' lived!" + +Hopalong looked at him and slowly replied between swollen lips, "Yo're +right, Hogan; we're square now, I reckon." + +"That's right, sor," Hogan replied, and turned to his companions. "Put +him in the boat; an' mind ye handle him gintly--we'll be sailing under +him soon. Now, sor, if it's yer pleasure, I'll be after saying good- +bye to ye, sor; an' to ye, too," he said, shaking hands with both +punches. "Fer a sick la-ad ye're a wonder, ye are that," he smiled at +Johnny, "but ye want to kape away from the water fronts. Good-bye to +ye both, an' a pleasant journey home. The town is tin miles to me +right, over beyant them hills." + +"Good-bye, Hogan," mumbled Hopalong gratefully. "Yo're square all the +way through; an' if you ever get out of a job or in any kind of +trouble that I can help you out of, come up to the Bar-20 an' you +won't have to ask twice. Good luck!" And the two sore and aching +punchers, wiser in the ways of the world, plodded doggedly towards the +town, ten miles away. + +The next morning found them in the saddle, bound for Dent's hotel and +store near the San Miguel Canyon. When they arrived at their +destination and Johnny found there was some hours to wait for Red, his +restlessness sent him roaming about the country, not so much "seeking +what he might devour" as hoping something might seek to devour him. He +was so sore over his recent kidnapping that he longed to find a salve. +He faithfully promised Hopalong that he would return at noon. + + + + CHAPTER III + + DICK MARTIN STARTS SOMETHING + +Dick Martin slowly turned, leaned his back against the bar, and +languidly regarded a group of Mexicans at the other end of the room. +Singly, or in combinations of two or more, each was imparting all he +knew, or thought he knew about the ghost of San Miguel Canyon. Their +fellow-countryman, new to the locality, seemed properly impressed. +That it was the ghost of Carlos Martinez, murdered nearly one hundred +years before at the big bend in the canyon, was conceded by all; but +there was a dispute as to why it showed itself only on Friday nights, +and why it was never seen by any but a Mexican. Never had a Gringo +seen it. The Mexican stranger was appealed to: Did this not prove that +the murder had been committed by a Mexican? The stranger affected to +consider the question. + +Martin surveyed them with outward impassiveness and inward contempt. A +realist, a cynic, and an absolute genius with a Colt .45, he was well +known along the border for his dare-devil exploits and reckless +courage. The brainiest men in the Secret Service, Lewis, Thomas, +Sayre, and even old Jim Lane, the local chief, whose fingers at El +Paso felt every vibration along the Rio Grande, were not as well known +--except to those who had seen the inside of Government penitentiaries +--and they were quite satisfied to be so eclipsed. But the Service +knew of the ghost, as it knew everything pertaining to the border, and +gave it no serious thought; if it took interest in all the ghosts and +superstitions peculiar to the Mexican temperament it would have no +time for serious work. Martin once, in a spirit of savage denial, had +wasted the better part of several successive Friday nights in the San +Miguel, but to no avail. When told that the ghost showed itself only +to Mexicans he had shrugged his shoulders eloquently and laughed, also +eloquently. + +"A Greaser," he replied, "is one-half fear and superstition, an' the +other half imagination. There ain't no ghosts, but I know the +/Greasers/ have seen 'em, all right. A Greaser can see anything scary +if he makes up his mind to. If /I/ ever see one an' he keeps on being +one after I shoot, I'll either believe in ghosts, or quit drinking." +His eyes twinkled as he added: "An' of the two, I think I'd /prefer/ +to see ghosts!" + +He was flushed and restless with deviltry. His fifth glass always made +him so; and to-night there was an added stimulus. He believed the +strange Mexican to be Juan Alvarez, who was so clever that the +Government had never been able to convict him. Alvarez was fearless to +recklessness and Martin, eager to test him, addressed the group with +the blunt terseness for which he was famed, and hated. + +"Greasers are cowards," he asserted quietly, and with a smile which +invited excitement. He took a keen delight in analyzing the +expressions on the faces of those hit. It was one of his favorite +pastimes when feeling coltish. + +The group was shocked into silence, quickly followed by great unrest +and hot, muttered words. Martin did not move a muscle, the smile was +set, but between the half-closed eyelids crouched Combat, on its toes. +The Mexicans knew it was there without looking for it--the tone of his +voice, the caressing purr of his words, and his unnatural languor were +signs well known to them. Not a criminal sneaking back from voluntary +banishment in Mexico who had seen those signs ever forgot them, if he +lived. Martin watched the group cat-like, keenly scrutinizing each +face, reading the changing emotions in every shifting expression; he +had this art down so well that he could tell when a man was debating +the pull of a gun, and beat him on the draw by a fraction of a second. + +"De senor ees meestak," came the reply, as quiet and caressing as the +words which provoked it. The strange Mexican was standing proudly and +looking into the squinting eyes with only a grayness of face and a +tigerish litheness to tell what he felt. + +"None go through the canyon after dark on Fridays," purred Martin. + +"/I/ go tro' de canyon nex' Friday night. Eef I do, then you mak +apology to me?" + +"I'll limit my remark to all but one Greaser." + +The Mexican stepped forward. "I tak' thees gloove an' leave eet at de +Beeg Ben', for you to fin' in daylight," he said, tapping one of +Martin's gauntlets which lay on the bar. "You geev' me eet befo' I +go?" + +"Yes; at nine o'clock to-morrow night," Martin replied, hiding his +elation. He was sure that he knew the man now. + +The Mexican, cool and smiling, bowed and left the room, his companions +hastening after him. + +"Well, I'll bet twenty-five dollars he flunks!" breathed the +bartender, straightening up. + +Martin turned languidly and smiled at him. "I'll take that, Charley," +he replied. + + + +Johnny Nelson was always late, and on this occasion he was later than +usual. He was to have joined Hopalong and Red, if Red had arrived, at +Dent's at noon the day before, and now it was after nine o'clock at +night as he rode through San Felippe without pausing and struck east +for the canyon. The dropping trail down the canyon was serious enough +in broad daylight, but at night to attempt its passage was foolhardy, +unless one knew every turn and slant by heart, which Johnny did not. +He was thirty-three hours late now, and he was determined to make up +what he could in the next three. + +When Johnny left Hopalong at Dent's he had given his word to be back +on time and not to keep his companions waiting, for Red might be on +time and he would chafe if he were delayed. But, alas for Johnny's +good intentions, his course took him through a small Mexican hamlet in +which lived a senorita of remarkable beauty and rebellious eyes; and +Johnny tarried in the town most of the day, riding up and down the +streets, practising the nice things he would say if he met her. She +watched him from the heavily draped window, and sighed as she wondered +if her dashing Americano would storm the house and carry her off like +the knights of old. Finally he had to turn away with heavy and +reluctant heart, promising himself that he would return when no +petulant and sarcastic companions were waiting for him. Then--ah! what +dreams youth knows. + +Half an hour ahead of him on another trail rode Juan, smiling with +satisfaction. He had come to San Felippe to get a look at the canyon +on Friday nights, and Martin had given him an excuse entirely +unexpected. For this he was truly grateful, even while he knew that +the American had tried to pick a quarrel with him and thus rid the +border of a man entirely too clever for the good of customs receipts; +and failing in that, had hoped the treacherous canyon trail would gain +that end in another manner. Old Jim Lane's fingers touched wires not +one whit more sensitive than those which had sent Juan Alvarez to look +over the San Miguel--and Lane's wires had been slow this time. When +Juan had left the saloon the night before and had seen Manuel slip +away from the group and ride off into the north, he had known that the +ghost would show itself the following night. + +But Juan was to be disappointed. He was still some distance from the +canyon when a snarling bulk landed on the haunches of his horse. He +jerked loose his gun and fired twice and then knew nothing. When he +opened his eyes he lay quietly, trying to figure it out with a head +throbbing with pain from his fall. The cougar must have been desperate +for food to attack a man. He moved his foot and struck something soft +and heavy. His shots had been lucky, but they had not saved him his +horse and a sprained arm and leg. There would be no gauntlet found at +the Big Bend at daylight. + +When Johnny Nelson reached the twin boulders marking the beginning of +the sloping run where the trail pitched down, he grinned happily at +sight of the moon rising over the low hills and then grabbed at his +holster, while every hair in his head stood up curiously. A wild, +haunting, feminine scream arose to a quavering soprano and sobbed away +into silence. No words can adequately describe the unearthly wail in +that cry and it took a full half-minute for Johnny to become himself +again and to understand what it was. Once more it arose, nearer, and +Johnny peered into the shadows along a rough backbone of rock, his +Colt balanced in his half-raised hand. + +"You come 'round me an' you'll get hurt," he muttered, straining his +eyes to peer into the blackness of the shadows. "Come on out, Soft- +foot; the moon's yore finish. You an' me will have it out right here +an' now--I don't want no cougar trailing me through that ink-black +canyon on a two-foot ledge--" he thought he saw a shadow glide across +a dim patch of moonlight, but when his smoke rifted he knew he had +missed. "Damn it! You've got a mate 'round here somewhere," he +complained. "Well, I'll have to chance it, anyhow. Come on, bronc! +Yo're shaking like a leaf--get out of this!" + +When he began to descend into the canyon he allowed his horse to pick +its own way without any guidance from him, and gave all of his +attention to the trail behind him. The horse could get along better by +itself in the dark, and it was more than possible that one or two +lithe cougars might be slinking behind him on velvet paws. The horse +scraped along gingerly, feeling its way step by step, and sending +stones rattling and clattering down the precipice at his left to +tinkle into the stream at the bottom. + +"Gee, but I wish I'd not wasted so much time," muttered the rider +uneasily. "This here canyon-cougar combination is the worst /I/ ever +butted up against. I'll never be late again, not never; not for all +the girls in the world. Easy, bronc," he cautioned, as he felt the +animal slip and quiver. "Won't this trail ever start going up again?" +he growled petulantly, taking his eyes off the black back trail, where +no amount of scrutiny showed him anything, and turned in the saddle to +peer ahead--and a yell of surprise and fear burst from him, while +chills ran up and down his spine. An unearthly, piercing shriek +suddenly rang out and filled the canyon with ear-splitting uproar and +a glowing, sheeted half-figure of a man floated and danced twenty feet +from him and over the chasm. He jerked his gun and fired, but only +once, for his mount had its own ideas about some things and this +particular one easily headed the list. The startled rider grabbed +reins and pommel, his blood congealed with fear of the precipice less +than a foot from his side, and he gave all his attention to the horse. +But scared as he was he heard, or thought that he heard, a peculiar +sound when he fired, and he would have sworn that he hit the mark--the +striking of the bullet was not drowned in the uproar and he would +never forget the sound of that impact. He rounded Big Bend as if he +were coming up to the judge's stand, and when he struck the upslant of +the emerging trail he had made a record. Cold sweat beaded his +forehead and he was trembling from head to foot when he again rode +into the moonlight on the level plain, where he tried to break another +record. + + + + CHAPTER IV + + JOHNNY ARRIVES + +Meanwhile Hopalong and Red quarrelled petulantly and damned the erring +Johnny with enthusiastic abandon, while Dent smiled at them and joked; +but his efforts at levity made little impression on the irate pair. +Red, true to his word, had turned up at the time set, in fact, he was +half an hour ahead of time, for which miracle he endeavored to take +great and disproportionate credit. Dent was secretly glad about the +delay, for he found his place lonesome. He thoroughly enjoyed the +company of the two gentlemen from the Bar-20, whose actions seemed to +be governed by whims and who appeared to lack all regard for +consequences; and they squabbled so refreshingly, and spent their +money cheerfully. Now, if they would only wind up the day by fighting! +Such a finish would be joy indeed. And speaking of fights, Dent was +certain that Mr. Cassidy had been in one recently, for his face bore +marks that could only be acquired in that way. + +After supper the two guests had relapsed into a silence which endured +only as long as the pleasing fulness. Then the squabbling began again, +growing worse until they fell silent from lack of adequate expression. +Finally Red once again spoke of their absent friend. + +"We oughtn't get peevish, Hoppy--he's only thirty-six hours late," +suggested Red. "An' he might be a week," he added thoughtfully, as his +mind ran back over a long list of Johnny's misdeeds. + +"Yes, he might. An' won't he have a fine cock-an'-bull tale to explain +it," growled Hopalong, reminiscently. "His excuses are the worst part +of it generally." + +"Eh, does he--make excuses?" asked Dent, mildly surprised. + +"He does to /us/," retorted Red savagely. "He's worse than a woman; +take him all in all an' you've got the toughest proposition that ever +wore pants. But he's a good feller, at that." + +"Well, you've got a lot of nerve, you have!" retorted Hopalong. "You +don't want to say anything about the Kid--if there's anybody that can +beat him in being late an' acting the fool generally, it's you. An' +what's more, you know it!" + +Red wheeled to reply, but was interrupted by a sudden uproar outside, +fluent swearing coming towards the house. The door opened with a bang, +admitting a white-faced, big-eyed man with one leg jammed through the +box he had landed on in dismounting. + +"Gimme a drink, quick!" he shouted wildly, dragging the box over to +the bar with a cheerful disregard for chairs and other temporary +obstructions. "Gimme a drink!" he reiterated. + +"Give you six hops in the neck!" yelled Red, missing and almost +sitting down because of the enthusiasm he had put into his effort. +Johnny side-stepped and ducked, and as he straightened up to ask for +whys and wherefores, Red's eyes opened wide and he paused in his +further intentions to stare at the apparition. + +"Sick?" queried Hopalong, who was frightened. + +"Gimme that drink!" demanded Johnny feverishly, and when he had it he +leaned against the bar and mopped his face with a trembling hand. + +"What's the matter with you, anyhow?" asked Red, with deep anxiety. + +"Yes; for God's sake, what's happened to you?" demanded Hopalong. + +Johnny breathed deeply and threw back his shoulders as if to shake off +a weight. "Fellers, I had a cougar soft-footing after me in that dark +canyon, my cayuse ran away on a two-foot ledge up the wall,/--an'--I-- +saw--a--ghost/!" + +There was a respectful silence. Johnny, waiting a reasonable length of +time for replies and exclamations, flushed a bit and repeated his +frank and candid statement, adding a few adjectives to it. "/A real, +screeching, flying ghost/! An' I'm going /home/, an' I'm going to +/stay/ there. I ain't never coming back no more, not for anything. +Damn this border country, /anyhow/!" + +The silence continued, whereupon Johnny grew properly indignant. "You +act like I told you it was going to rain! Why don't you say something? +Didn't you hear what I said, you fools!" he asked pugnaciously. "Are +you in the habit of having a thing like that told you? Why don't you +show some interest, you dod-blasted, thick-skulled wooden-heads?" + +Red looked at Hopalong, Hopalong looked at Red, and then they both +looked at Dent, whose eyes were fixed in a stare on Johnny. + +"Huh!" snorted Hopalong, warily arising. "Was that all?" he asked, +nodding at Red, who also arose and began to move cautiously toward +their erring friend. "Didn't you see no more'n one ghost? Anybody that +can see one ghost, an' no more, is wrong somewhere. Now, stop, an' +think; didn't you see /two/?" He was advancing carefully while he +talked, and Red was now behind the man who saw one ghost. + +"Why, you--" there was a sudden flurry and Johnny's words were cut +short in the melee. + +"Good, Red! Ouch!" shouted Hopalong. "Look out! Got any rope, Dent? +Well, hurry up: there ain't no telling what he'll do if he's loose. +The mescal they sells down in this country ain't liquor--it's poison," +he panted. "An' he can't even stand whiskey!" + +Finding the rope was easier than finding a place to put it, and the +unequal battle raged across the room and into the next, where it +sounded as if the house were falling down. Johnny's voice was shrill +and full of vexation and his words were extremely impolite and lacked +censoring. His feet appeared to be numerous and growing rapidly, +judging from the amount of territory they covered and defended, and +Red joyfully kicked Hopalong in the melee, which in this instance also +stands for stomach; Red always took great pains to do more than his +share in a scrimmage. Dent hovered on the flanks, his hands full of +rope, and begged with great earnestness to be allowed to apply it to +parts of Johnny's thrashing anatomy. But as the flanks continued to +change with bewildering swiftness he begged in vain, and began to make +suggestions and give advice pleasing to the three combatants. Dent +knew just how it should be done, and was generous with the knowledge +until Johnny zealously planted five knuckles on his one good eye, when +the engagement became general. + +The table skidded through the door on one leg and caromed off the bar +at a graceful angle, collecting three chairs and one sand-box cuspidor +on the way. The box on Johnny's leg had long since departed, as +Hopalong's shin could testify. One chair dissolved unity and +distributed itself lavishly over the room, while the bed shrunk +silently and folded itself on top of Dent, who bucked it up and down +with burning zeal and finally had sense enough to crawl from under it. +He immediately celebrated his liberation by getting a strangle hold on +two legs, one of which happened to be the personal property of +Hopalong Cassidy; and the battle raged on a lower plane. Red raised +one hand as he carefully traced a neck to its own proper head and then +his steel fingers opened and swooped down and shut off the dialect. +Hopalong pushed Dent off him and managed to catch Johnny's flaying arm +on the third attempt, while Dent made tentative sorties against +Johnny's spurred boots. + +"Phew! Can he fight like that when he's sober?" reverently asked Dent, +seeing how close his fingers could come to his gaudy eye without +touching it. "I won't be able to see at all in an hour," he added, +gloomily. + +Hopalong, seated on Johnny's chest, soberly made reply as he tenderly +flirted with a raw shin. "It's the mescal. I'm going to slip some of +that stuff into Pete's cayuse some of these days," he promised, happy +with a new idea. Pete Wilson had no sense of humor. + +"That ghost was plumb lucky," grunted Red, "an' so was the sea- +captain," he finished as an afterthought, limping off toward the bar, +slowly and painfully followed by his disfigured companions. "One +drink; then to bed." + +After Red had departed, Hopalong and Dent smoked a while and then, +knocking the ashes out of his pipe, Hopalong arose. "An' yet, Dent, +there are people that believe in ghosts," he remarked, with a vast and +settled contempt. + +Dent gave critical scrutiny to the scratched bar for a moment. "Well, +the Greasers all say there /is/ a ghost in the San Miguel, though I +never saw it. But some of them have seen it, an' no Greasers ride that +trail no more." + +"Huh!" snorted Hopalong. "Some Greasers must have filled the Kid up on +ghosts while he was filling hisself up on mescal. Ghosts? R-a-t-s!" + +"It shows itself only to Greasers, an' then only on Friday nights," +explained Dent, thoughtfully. This was Friday night. Others had seen +that ghost, but they were all Mexicans; now that a "white" man of +Johnny's undisputed calibre had been so honored Dent's skepticism +wavered and he had something to think about for days to come. True, +Johnny was not a Greaser; but even ghosts might make mistakes once in +a while. + +Hopalong laughed, dismissing the subject from his mind as being +beneath further comment. "Well, we won't argue--I'm too tired. An' I'm +sorry you got that eye, Dent." + +"Oh, that's all right," hastily assured the store-keeper, smiling +faintly. "I was just spoiling for a fight, an' now I've had it. Feels +sort of good. Yes, first thing in the morning--breakfast'll be ready +soon as you are. Good-night." + +But the proprietor couldn't sleep. Finally he arose and tiptoed into +the room where Johnny lay wrapped in the sleep of the exhausted. After +cautious and critical inspection, which was made hard because of his +damaged eye, he tiptoed back to his bunk, shaking his head slowly. "He +wasn't drunk," he muttered. "He saw that ghost all right; an' I'll bet +everything I've got on it!" + + + +At daybreak three quarrelling punchers rode homeward and after a +monotonous journey arrived at the bunk house and reported. It took +them two nights adequately to describe their experiences to an envious +audience. The morning after the telling of the ghost story things +began to happen. Red starting it by erecting a sign. + + + NOTISE--NO GHOSTS ALOWED + + +An exuberant handful of the outfit watched him drive the last nail and +step back to admire his work, and the running fire of comment covered +all degrees of humor, and promised much hilarity in the future at the +expense of the only man on the Bar-20 who had seen a ghost. + +In a week Johnny and his acute vision had become a bye-word in that +part of the country and his friends had made it a practice to stop him +and gravely discuss spirit manifestations of all kinds. He had +thrashed Wood Wright and been thrashed by Sandy Lucas in two beautiful +and memorable fights and was only waiting to recover from the last +affair before having the matter out with Rich Finn. These facts were +beginning to have the effect he strove for; though Cowan still sold a +new concoction of gin, brandy, and whiskey which he called "Flying +Ghost," and which he proudly guaranteed would show more ghosts per +drink than any liquor south of the Rio Grande--and some of his patrons +were eager to back up his claims with real money. + +This was the condition of affairs when Hopalong Cassidy strolled into +Cowan's and forgot his thirst in the story being told by a strange +Mexican. It was Johnny's ghost, without a doubt, and when he had +carelessly asked a few questions he was convinced that Johnny had +really seen something. On the way home he cogitated upon it and two +points challenged his intelligence with renewed insistence: the ghost +showed itself only on Friday, and then only to "Greasers." His +suspicious mind would not rest until he had reviewed the question from +all sides, and his opinion was that there was something more than +spiritual about the ghost of the San Miguel--and a cold, practical +reason for it. + +When he rode into the corral at the ranch he saw that another sign had +been put on the corral wall. He had destroyed the first, speaking his +mind in full at the time. He swept his gloved hand upward with a rush, +tore the flimsy board from its fastenings, broke it to pieces across +his saddle, and tossed the fragments from him. He was angry, for he +had warned the outfit that they were carrying the joke too far, that +Johnny was giving way to hysterical rage more frequently, and might +easily do something that they all would regret. And he felt sorry for +the Kid; he knew what Johnny's feelings were and he made up his mind +to start a few fights himself if the persecution did not cease. When +he stepped into the bunk house and faced his friends they listened to +a three-minute speech that made them squirm, and as he finished +talking the deep voice of the foreman endorsed the promises he had +just heard made, for Buck had entered the gallery without being +noticed. The joke had come to an end. + +When Johnny rode in that evening he was surprised to find Hopalong +waiting for him a short distance from the corral and he replied to his +friend's gesture by riding over to him. "What's up now?" he asked. + +"Come along with me. I want to talk to you for a few minutes," and +Hopalong led the way toward the open, followed by Johnny, who was more +or less suspicious. Finally Hopalong stopped, turned, and looked his +companion squarely in the eyes. "Kid, I'm in dead earnest. This ain't +no fool joke--now you tell me what that ghost looked like, how he +acted, an' all about it. I mean what I say, because now I know that +you saw /something/. If it wasn't a ghost it was made to look like +one, anyhow. Now go ahead." + +"I've told you a dozen times already," retorted Johnny, his face +flushing. "I've begged you to believe me an' told you that I wasn't +fooling. How do I know you ain't now? I'm not going to tell--" + +"Hold on; yes, you are. Yo're going to tell it slow, an' just like you +saw it," Hopalong interrupted hastily. "I know I've doubted it, but +who wouldn't! Wait a minute--I've done a heap of thinking in the past +few days an' I know that you saw a ghost. Now, everybody knows that +there ain't no such thing as ghosts; then what was it you saw? There's +a game on, Kid, an' it's a dandy; an' you an' me are going to bust it +up an' get the laugh on the whole blasted crowd, from Buck to Cowan." + +Johnny's suspicions left him with a rush, for his old Hoppy was one +man in a thousand, and when he spoke like that, with such sharp +decision, Johnny knew what it meant. Hopalong listened intently and +when the short account was finished he put out his hand and smiled. + +"We're the fools, Kid; not you. There's something crooked going on in +that canyon, an' I know it! But keep mum about what we think." + +Johnny lost his grouch so suddenly and beamed upon his friends with +such a superior air that they began to worry about what was in the +wind. The suspense wore on them, for with Hopalong's assistance, +Johnny might spring some game on them all that would more than pay up +for the fun they had enjoyed at his expense; and the longer the +suspense lasted the worse it became. They never lost sight of him +while he was around and Hopalong had to endure the same surveillance; +and it was no uncommon thing to see small groups of the anxious men +engaged in deep discussion. When they found that Buck must have been +told and noticed his smile was as fixed as Hopalong's or Johnny's, +they were certain that trouble of some nature was in store for them. + +Several weeks later Buck Peters drew rein and waited for a stranger to +join him. + +"Howdy. Is yore name Peters?" asked the newcomer, sizing him up in one +trained glance. + +"Well, who are you, an' what do you want?" + +"I want to see Peters, Buck Peters. That yore name?" + +"Yes; what of it?" + +"My name's Fox. Old Jim Lane gave me a message for you," and the +stranger spoke earnestly to some length. "There; that's the situation. +We've got to have shrewd men that they don't know an' won't suspect. +Lane wants to pay a couple of yore men their wages for a month or two. +He said he was shore he could count on you to help him out." + +"He's right; he can. I don't forget favors. I've got a couple of men +that--there's one of 'em now. Hey, Hoppy! Whoop-e, Hoppy!" + +Mr. Cassidy arrived quickly, listened eagerly, named Red and Johnny to +accompany him, overruled his companions by insisting that if Johnny +didn't go the whole thing was off, carried his point, and galloped off +to find the lucky two, his eyes gleaming with anticipation and joy. +Fox laughed, thanked the foreman, and rode on his way north; and that +night three cow-punchers rode south, all strangely elated. And the +friends who watched them go heaved signs of relief, for the reprisals +evidently were to be postponed for a while. + + + + CHAPTER V + + THE GHOST OF THE SAN MIGUEL + +Juan Alvarez had not been in San Felippe since Dick Martin left, which +meant for over a month. Martin was down the river looking for a man +who did not wish to be found; and some said that Martin cared nothing +about international boundaries when he wanted any one real bad. And +there was that geologist who wore blue glasses and was always +puttering around in the canyon and hammering chips of rock off the +steep walls; he must have slipped one noon, because his body was found +on a flat boulder at the edge of the stream. Manuel had found it and +wanted to be paid for his trouble in bringing it to town--but Manuel +was a fool. Who, indeed, would pay good money for a dead Gringo, +especially after he was dead? And there were three cow-punchers +holding a herd of 6-X cattle up north, an hour or so from the town. +They wanted to buy steers from Senor Rodriguez, but said that he was a +robber and threatened to cut his ears off. Cannot a man name his own +price? These cow-punchers liked to get drunk and gallop through San +Felippe, shooting like crazy men. They got drunk one Friday night and +went shouting and singing to the Big Bend in the canyon to see the +flying ghost, and they called it names and fired off their pistols and +sang loudly; and for a week they insulted all the Mexicans in town by +calling them liars and cowards. Was it the fault of any one that the +ghost would show itself only to Mexicans? Oh, these Gringos--might the +good God punish them for their sins! + +Thus the peons complained to the padre while they kept one eye open +for the advent of the rowdy cow-punchers, who always wanted to drink, +and then to fight with some one, either with fists or pistols. Why +should any one fight with them, especially with such things as fists? + +"Let them fight among themselves. What have you to do with heretics?" +reproved the good padre, who ostracized himself from the pleasant +parts of the wide world that he might make easier the life and +struggles of his ignorant flock. "God is not hasty--He will punish in +His own way when it best suits Him. And perhaps you will profit much +if you are more regular to mass instead of wasting the cool hours of +the morning in bed. Think well of what I have said, my children." + +But the cow-punchers were not punished and they swore they would not +leave the vicinity until they had all the steers they wanted, and at +their own price. And one night their herd stampeded and was checked +only in time to save it from going over the canyon's edge. And for +some reason Sanchez kept out of the padre's way and did not go to +confess when he should, for the padre spoke plainly and set hard +obligations for penance. + +The cow-punchers swore that it had been done by some Mexican and said +that they would come to town some day soon and kill three Mexicans +unless the guilty one was found and brought to them. Then the padre +mounted his donkey and went out to them to argue and they finally told +him they would wait for two weeks. But the padre was too smart for +them--he sent a messenger to find Senor Dick Martin, and in one week +Senor Martin came to town. There was no fight. The Gringo rowdies were +cowards at heart and Martin could not shoot them down in cold blood, +and he could not arrest them, because he was not a policeman or even a +sheriff, but only a revenue officer, which was a most foolish law. But +he watched them all the time and wanted them to fight--there was no +more shooting or drunkenness in town. Nobody wanted to fight Senor +Martin, for he was a great man. He even went so far as to talk with +them about it and wave his arms, but they were as frightened at him as +little children might be. + +So the Mexicans gossiped and exulted, some of the bolder of them even +swaggering out to the Gringo camp; but Martin drove them back again, +saying he would not allow them to bully men who could not retaliate, +which was right and fair. Then, afraid to go away and leave the mad +cow-punchers so close to town, he ordered them to drive their herd +farther east, nearer to Dent's store, and never to return to San +Felippe unless they needed the padre; and they obeyed him after a long +talk. After seeing them settled in their new camp, which was on Monday +morning, Martin returned to San Felippe and told the padre where he +could be found and then rode away again. San Felippe celebrated for a +whole day and two Mexican babies were christened after Senor Dick +Martin, which was honor all around. + +Friday, when Manuel went over to spy upon the cow-punchers in their +new camp, he found them so drunk that they could not stand, and before +he crept away at dusk two of them were sleeping like gorged snakes and +the third was firing off his revolver at random, which diversion had +not a little to do with Manuel's departure. + +When Manuel crept away he headed straight for a crevice near the wall +of the canyon at the Big Bend and, reaching it, looked all around and +then dropped into it. Not long thereafter another Mexican appeared, +this one from San Felippe, and also disappeared into the crevice. As +darkness fell Manuel reappeared with something under his jacket and a +moment later a light gleamed at the base of a slender sapling which +grew on the edge of the canyon wall and leaned out over the abyss. It +was cleverly placed, for only at one spot on the Mexican side of the +distant Rio Grande could it be seen--the high canyon walls farther +down screened it from any one who might be riding on the north bank of +the river. In a moment there came an answering twinkle and Manuel, +covering the lantern with a blanket, was swallowed up in the darkness +of the crevice. + +Without a trace of emotion, Dick Martin, from his place of +concealment, caught the answering gleam, and he watched Manuel +disappear. "Cassidy was right in every point; Lewis or Sayre couldn't +'a' done this better. I hope he won't be late," he muttered, and +settled himself more comfortably to wait for the cue for action, +smiling as the moon poked its rim over the low hills to his right. +"This means promotion for me, or I've very much mistaken," he +chuckled. + +Hopalong was not late and as soon as it was dark he and his companions +stole into the canyon on foot. They felt their way down the east end +of the trail, not far from Dent's, toward the Big Bend, which they +gained without a mishap. Johnny was sent up to a place they had +noticed and marked in their memories at the time they had rioted down +to defy the ghost. He was to stop any one trying to escape up the San +Felippe end of the canyon trail, and his confidence in his ability to +do this was exuberant. Hopalong and Red slowly and laboriously worked +their way down the perilous path leading to the bottom, forded the +stream, and crept up the other side, where they found cover not far +from a wide crack in the canyon wall. Upon the occasion of their +hilarious visit to the Big Bend they had observed that a faint trail +led to the crack and had cogitated deeply upon this fact. + +Three hours passed before the watchers in and above the canyon were +rewarded by anything further; and then a light flickered far down the +canyon and close to the edge of the stream. Immediately strange noises +were heard and suddenly the ghost swung out of the opening in the rock +wall near Hopalong and Red and danced above their heads, while the +shrieking which had so frightened Johnny and his horse filled the +canyon with uproar and sent Martin wriggling nearer to the crevice +which he had watched so closely. The noise soon ceased, but the ghost +danced on, and the sound of men stumbling along the rocky ledge +bordering the stream became more and more audible. Four were in the +party and they all carried bulky loads on their backs and grunted with +pleasure and relief as they entered the entrance in the wall. When the +last man had disappeared and the noise of their passing had died out, +Johnny's rope sailed up and out, and the ghost swayed violently and +then began to sag in an unaccountable manner towards the trail as the +owner of the rope hitched its free end around a spur of rock and made +it fast. Then he feverishly scrambled down the steep path to join his +friends. + +Hopalong and Red, wriggling on their stomachs towards the crack in the +wall, paused in amazement and stared across the canyon; and then the +former chuckled and whispered something in his companion's ear. "That +was why he lugged his rope along! He's just idiot enough to want a +souveneer an' plaything at the risk of losing the game. Come on!-- +they'll tumble to what's up an' get away if we don't hustle." + +When the two punchers cautiously and noiselessly entered the crack and +felt their way along its rock walls they heard fluent swearing in +Spanish by the man who worked the ghost, and who could not understand +its sudden ambition to take root. It was made painfully clear to him a +moment later when a pair of brawny hands reached out of the darkness +behind him and encircled his throat a hand's width below his gleaming +cigarette. Another pair used cords with deftness and despatch and he +was left by himself to browse upon the gag when all his senses +returned. + +Hopalong, with Red inconsiderately stepping on his heels, felt his way +along the wall of the crevice, alert and silent, his Colt nestling +comfortably in his right hand, while the left was pushed out ahead +feeling for trouble. As they worked farther away from the canyon +distant voices could be heard and they forthwith proceeded even more +cautiously. When Hopalong came to the second bend in the narrow +passage he peered around it and stopped so abruptly that Red's nose +almost spread itself over the back of his head. Red's indignation was +all the harder to bear because it must bloom unheard. + +In a huge, irregular room, whose roof could not be discerned in the +dim light of the few candles, five men were resting in various +attitudes of ease as they discussed the events of the night and tried +to compute their profits. They were secure, for Manuel, having by this +time put away the ghost and megaphone, was on duty at the mouth of the +crevice, and he was as sensitive to danger as a hound. + +"The risk is not much and the profits are large," remarked Pedro, in +Spanish. "We must burn a candle for the repose of the soul of Carlos +Martinez. It is he that made our plans safe. And a candle is not much +when we--" + +"Hands up!" said a quiet voice, followed by grim commands. The +Mexicans jumped as if stung by a scorpion, and could just discern two +of the rowdy gringo cow-punchers in the heavy shadows of the opposite +wall, but the candle light glinted in rings on the muzzles of their +six-shooters. Had Manuel betrayed them? But they had little time or +inclination for cogitation regarding Manuel. + +"Easy there!" shouted Red, and Pedro's hand stopped when half way to +his chest. Pedro was a gambler by nature, but the odds were too heavy +and he sullenly obeyed the command. + +"Stick 'em up! Stick 'em up! Higher yet, an' hold 'em there," purred a +soft voice from the other end of the room, where Dick Martin smiled +pleasantly upon them and wondered if there was anything on earth +harder to pound good common sense into than a "Greaser's" head. His +gun was blue, but it was, nevertheless, the most prominent part of his +make-up, even if the light was poor. + +One of the Mexicans reached involuntarily for his gun, for he was a +gun-man by training; while his companions felt for their knives, +deadly weapons in a melee. Martin, crying, "Watch 'em, Cassidy!" side- +stepped and lunged forward with the speed and skill of a boxer, and +his hard left hand landed on the point of Juan Alvarez' jaw with a +force and precision not to be withstood. But to make more certain that +the Mexican would not take part in any possible demonstration of +resistance, Martin's right circled up in a short half-hook and stopped +against Juan's short ribs. Martin weighed one hundred and eighty +pounds and packed no fat on his well-knit frame. + +At this moment a two-legged cyclone burst upon the scene in the person +of Johnny Nelson, whose rage had been worked up almost to the weeping +point because he had lost so much time hunting for the crevice where +it was not. Seeing Juan fall, and the glint of knives, he started in +to clean things up, yelling, "I'm a ghost! I'm a ghost! Take 'em +alive! Take 'em alive!" + +Hopalong and Red felt that they were in his way, and taking care of +one Mexican between them, while Martin knocked out another, they +watched the exits,--for anything was possible in such a chaotic mix- +up,--and gave Johnny plenty of room. The latter paused, triumphant, +looked around to see if he had missed any, and then advanced upon his +friends and shoved his jaw up close to Hopalong's face. "Tried to lose +me, didn't you! Wouldn't wait for me! For seven cents an' a toothbrush +I'd give you what's left!" + +Red grabbed him by trousers and collar and heaved him into the +passageway. "Go out an' play with yore souveneer or we'll step on +you!" + +Johnny sat up, rubbed certain portions of his anatomy, and grinned. +"Oh, I've got it, all right! I'm shore going to take that ghost home +an' make some of them fools /eat/ it!" + +Martin smiled as he finished tying the last prisoner. "That's right, +Nelson; you've got it on 'em this time. Make 'em chew it." + + + + CHAPTER VI + + HOPALONG LOSES A HORSE + +For a month after their return from the San Miguel, Hopalong and his +companions worked with renewed zest, and told and retold the other +members of the outfit of their unusual experiences near the Mexican +border. Word had come up to them that Martin had secured the +conviction of the smugglers and was in line for immediate advancement. +No one on the range had the heart to meet Johnny Nelson, for Johnny +carried with him a piece of the ghost, and became pugnacious if his +once-jeering friends and acquaintances refused to nibble on it. Cowan +still sold his remarkable drink, but he had yielded to Johnny's +persuasive methods and now called it "Nelson's Pet." + +One bright day the outfit started rounding up a small herd of three- +year-olds, which Buck had sold, and by the end of the week the herd +was complete and ready for the drive. This took two weeks and when +Hopalong led his drive outfit through Hoyt's Corners on its homeward +journey he felt the pull of the town of Grant, some miles distant, and +it was too strong to be resisted. Flinging a word of explanation to +the nearest puncher, he turned to lope away, when Red's voice checked +him. Red wanted to delay his home-coming for a day or two and attend +to a purely personal matter at a ranch lying to the west. Hopalong, +knowing the reason for Red's wish, grinned and told him to go, and not +to propose until he had thought the matter over very carefully. Red's +reply was characteristic, and after arranging a rendezvous and naming +the time, the two separated and rode toward their destinations, while +the rest of the outfit kept on towards their ranch. + +"A man owes something to /all/ his friends," Hopalong mused. In this +case he owed a return game of draw poker to certain of Grant's leading +citizens, and he liked to pay his obligations when opportunity +offered. + +It was mid-afternoon when he topped a rise and saw below him the +handful of shacks making up the town. A look of pleased interest +flickered across his face as he noticed a patched and dirty tent +pitched close up to the nearest shack. "Show!" he exclaimed. "Now, +ain't that luck! I'll shore take it in. If it's a circus, mebby it has +a trick mule to ride--I'll never forget that one up in Kansas City," +he grinned. But almost instantly a doubt arose and tempered the grin. +"Huh! Mebby it's the branding chute of some gospel sharp." As he drew +near he focussed his eyes on the canvas and found that his fears were +justified. + +"All Are Welcome," he spelled out slowly. "Shore they are!" he +muttered. "I never nowhere saw such hard-working, all-embracing +rustlers as them fellers. They'll stick their iron on anything from a +wobbly calf or dying dogie to a staggering-with-age mosshead, an' +shout 'tally one' with the same joy. Well, not for mine, /this/ trip. +I'm going to graze loose an' buck-jump all I wants. Anyhow, if I did +let him brand me I'd only backslide in a week," and Hopalong pressed +his pony to a more rapid gait as two men emerged from the tent. +"There's the sky-pilot now," he muttered--"an' there's Dave!" he +shouted, waving his arm. "Oh, Dave! Dave!" + +Dave Wilkes looked up, and his grin of delight threatened to engulf +his ears. "Hullo, Cassidy! Glad to see you! Keep right on for the +store--I'll be with you in a minute." When David told his companion +the visitor's name the evangelist held up his hand eloquently and +spoke. + +"I know all about him!" he exclaimed sorrowfully. "If I can lead him +out of his wickedness I will rest content though I save no more souls +this fortnight. Is it all true?" + +"Huh! What true?" + +"All that I have heard about him." + +"Well, I dunno what you've heard," replied Dave, with grave caution, +"but I reckon it might be if it didn't cover lying, stealing, +cowardice, an' such coyote traits. He's shore a holy terror with a +short gun, all right, but lemme tell you something mebby you /ain't/ +heard: There ain't a square man in this part of the country that won't +feel some honored an' proud to be called a friend of Hopalong Cassidy. +Them's the sentiments rampaging hereabouts. I ain't denying that he's +gone an' killed off a lot of men first an' last--but the only trouble +there is that he didn't get 'em soon enough. They all had lived too +blamed long when they went an' stacked up agin him an' that lightning +short gun of hissn. But, say, if yo're calculating to tackle him at +yore game, lead him gentle--don't push none. He comes to life real +sudden when he's shoved. So long; see you later, mebby." + +The revivalist looked after him and mused, "I hope I was informed +wrong, but this much I have to be thankful for: The wickedness of most +of these men, these over-grown children, is manly, stalwart, and open; +few of them are vicious or contemptible. Their one great curse is +drink." + +When Hopalong entered the store he was vociferously welcomed by two +men, and the proprietor joining them, the circle was complete. When +the conversation threatened to repeat itself cards were brought and +the next two hours passed very rapidly. They were expensive hours to +the Bar-20 puncher, who finally arose with an apologetic grin and +slapped his thigh significantly. + +"Well, you've got it all; I'm busted wide open, except for a measly +dollar, an' I shore hopes you don't want that," he laughed. "You play +a whole lot better than you did the last time I was here. I've got to +move along. I'm going east an' see Wallace an' from there I've got to +meet Red an' ride home with him. But you come an' see us when you can +--it's /me/ that wants revenge this time." + +"Huh; you'll be wanting it worse than ever if we do," smiled Dave. + +"Say, Hoppy," advised Tom Lawrence, "better drop in an' hear the sky- +pilot's palaver before you go. It'll do you a whole lot of good, an' +it can't do you no harm, anyhow." + +"You going?" asked Hopalong suspiciously. + +"Can't--got too much work to do," quickly responded Tom, his brother +Art nodding happy confirmation. + +"Huh; I reckoned so!" snorted Hopalong sarcastically, as he shook +hands all around. "You all know where to find us--drop in an' see us +when you get down our way," he invited. + +"Sorry you can't stay longer, Cassidy," remarked Dave, as his friend +mounted. "But come up again soon--an' be shore to tell all the boys we +was asking for 'em," he called. + +Considering the speed with which Hopalong started for Wallace's, he +might have been expecting a relay of "quarter" horses to keep it +going, but he pulled up short at the tent. Such inconsistency is +trying to the temper of the best-mannered horse, and this particular +animal was not in the least good-mannered, wherefore its rider was +obliged to soothe its resentment in his own peculiar way, listening +meanwhile to the loud and impassioned voice of the evangelist +haranguing his small audience. + +"I wonder," said Hopalong, glancing through the door, "if them friends +of mine reckon I'm any ascared to go in that tent? Huh, I'll just show +'em anyhow!" whereupon he dismounted, flung the reins over his horse's +head, and strode through the doorway. + +The nearest seat, a bench made by placing a bottom board of the +evangelist's wagon across two up-ended boxes, was close enough to the +exhorter and he dropped into it and glanced carelessly at his nearest +neighbor. The carelessness went out of his bearing as his eyes +fastened themselves in a stare on the man's neck-kerchief. Hopalong +was hardened to awful sights and at his best was not an artistic soul, +but the villainous riot of fiery crimson, gaudy yellow, and pugnacious +and domineering green which flaunted defiance and insolence from the +stranger's neck caused his breath to hang over one count and then come +double strong at the next exhalation. "Gee whiz!" he whispered. + +The stranger slowly turned his head and looked coldly upon the +impudent disturber of his reverent reflections. "Meaning?" he +questioned, with an upward slant in his voice. The neck-kerchief +seemed to grow suddenly malignant and about to spring. "Meaning?" +repeated the other with great insolence, while his eyes looked a +challenge. + +While Hopalong's eyes left the scrambled color-insult and tried to +banish the horrible after-image, his mind groped for the rules of +etiquette governing free fist fights in gospel tents, and while he +hesitated as to whether he should dent the classic profile of the +color-bearer or just twist his nose as a sign of displeasure, the +voice of the evangelist arose to a roar and thundered out. Hopalong +ducked instinctively. + +"--Stop! Stop before it is too late, before death takes you in the +wallow of your sins! Repent and gain salvation--" + +Hopalong felt relieved, but his face retained its expression of +childlike innocence even after he realized that he was not being +personally addressed; and he glanced around. It took him ninety-seven +seconds to see everything there was to be seen, and his eyes were +drawn irresistibly back to the stranger's kerchief. "Awful! Awful +thing for a drinking man to wear, or run up against unexpectedly!" he +muttered, blinking. "Worse than snakes," he added thoughtfully. + +"Look ahere, you--" began the owner of the offensive decoration, if it +might be called such, but the evangelist drowned his voice in another +flight of eloquence. + +"--/Peace/! /Peace/ is the message of the Lord to His children," +roared the voice from the upturned soap box, and when the speaker +turned and looked in the direction of the two men-with-a-difference he +found them sitting up very straight and apparently drinking in his +words with great relish; whereupon he felt that he was making +gratifying progress toward the salvation of their spotted souls. He +was very glad, indeed, that he had been so grievously misinformed +about the personal attributes of one Hopalong Cassidy,--glad and +thankful. + +"Death cometh as a thief in the night," the voice went on. "Think of +the friends who have gone before; who were well one minute and gone +the next! And it must come to all of us, to all of us, to me and to +you--" + +The man with the afflicted neck started rocking the bench. + +"Something is coming to somebody purty soon," murmured Hopalong. He +began to sidle over towards his neighbor, his near hand doubled up +into a huge knot of protuberant knuckles and white-streaked fingers; +but as he was about to deliver his hint that he was greatly displeased +at the antics of the bench, a sob came to his ears. Turning his head +swiftly, he caught sight of the stranger's face, and sorrow was marked +so strongly upon it that the sight made Hopalong gape. His hand opened +slowly and he cautiously sidled back again, disgruntled, puzzled, and +vexed at himself for having strayed into a game where he was so +hopelessly at sea. He thought it all over carefully and then gave it +up as being too deep for him to solve. But he determined one thing: He +was not going to leave before the other man did, anyhow. + +"An' if I catch that howling kerchief outside," he muttered, smacking +his lips with satisfaction at what was in store for it. His visit to +Wallace was not very important, anyway, and it could wait on more +important events. + +"There sits a sinner!" thundered out the exhorter, and Hopalong looked +stealthily around for a sight of a villain. "God only has the right to +punish. 'Vengeance is mine,' saith the Lord, and whosoever takes the +law into his own hands, whosoever takes human life, defies the +Creator. There sits a man who has killed his fellow-men, his brothers! +Are you not a sinner, /Cassidy/?" + +Cassidy jumped clear of the bench as he jerked his head around and +stared over the suddenly outstretched arm and pointing finger of the +speaker and into his accusing eyes. + +"Answer me! Are you not a sinner?" + +Hopalong stood up, confused, bewildered, and then his suspended +thoughts stirred and formed. "Guilty, I reckon, an' in the first +degree. But they didn't get no more'n what was coming to 'em, no +more'n they earned. An' that's straight!" + +"How do you know they didn't? How do you know they earned it? How do +you /know/?" demanded the evangelist, who was delighted with the +chance to argue with a sinner. He had great faith in "personal +contact," and his was the assurance of training, of the man well +rehearsed and fully prepared. And he knew that if he should be pinned +into a corner by logic and asked for /his/ proofs, that he could +squirm out easily and take the offensive again by appealing to faith, +the last word in sophistry, and a greater and more powerful weapon +than intelligence. /This/ was his game, and it was fixed; he could not +lose if he could arouse enough interest in a man to hold him to the +end of the argument. He continued to drive, to crowd. "What right have +you to think so? What right have you to judge them? Have you divine +insight? Are you inspired? 'Judge not lest ye be judged,' saith the +Lord, and you /dare/ to fly in the face of that great command!" + +"You've got me picking the pea in /this/ game, all right," responded +Hopalong, dropping back on the bench. "But lemme tell you one thing; +Command or no command, devine or not devine, I know when a man has +lived too long, an' when he's going to try to get me. An' all the +gospel sharps south of heaven can't stop me from handing a thief what +he's earned. Go on with the show, but count me out." + +While the evangelist warmed to the attack, vaguely realizing that he +had made a mistake in not heeding Dave Wilkes' tip, Hopalong became +conscious of a sense of relief stealing over him and he looked around +wonderingly for the cause. The man with the kerchief had "folded his +tents" and departed; and Hopalong, heaving a sigh of satisfaction, +settled himself more comfortably and gave real attention to the +discourse, although he did not reply to the warm and eloquent man on +the soap box. Suddenly he sat up with a start as he remembered that he +had a long and hard ride before him if he wished to see Wallace, and +arising, strode towards the exit, his chest up and his chin thrust +out. The only reply he made to the excited and personal remarks of the +revivalist was to stop at the door and drop his last dollar into the +yeast box before passing out. + +For a moment he stood still and pondered, his head too full of what he +had heard to notice that anything out of the ordinary had happened. +Although the evangelist had adopted the wrong method he had gained +more than he knew and Hopalong had something to take home with him and +wrestle out for himself in spare moments; that is, he would have had +but for one thing: As he slowly looked around for his horse he came to +himself with a sharp jerk, and hot profanity routed the germ of +religion incubating in his soul. His horse was missing! Here was a +pretty mess, he thought savagely; and then his expression of anger and +perplexity gave way to a flickering grin as the probable solution came +to his mind. + +"By the Lord, I never saw such a bunch to play jokes," he laughed. +"Won't they never grow up? They was watching me when I went inside an' +sneaked up and rustled my cayuse. Well, I'll get back again without +much trouble, all right. They ought to know me better by this time." + +"Hey, stranger!" he called to a man who was riding past, "have you +seen anything of a skinny roan cayuse fifteen han's high, white +stocking on the near foreleg, an' a bandage on the off fetlock, Bar-20 +being the brand?" + +The stranger, knowing the grinning inquisitor by sight, suspected that +a joke was being played: he also knew Dave Wilkes and that gentleman's +friends. He chuckled and determined to help it along a little. "Shore +did, pardner; saw a man leading him real cautious. Was he yourn?" + +"Oh, no; not at all. He belonged to my great-great-grandfather, who +left him to my second cousin. You see, I borrowed it," he grinned, +making his way leisurely towards the general store, kept by his friend +Dave, the joker. "Funny how everybody likes a joke," he muttered, +opening the door of the store. "Hey, Dave," he called. + +Mr. Wilkes wheeled suddenly and stared. "Why, I thought you was half- +way to Wallace's by now!" he exclaimed. "Did you come back to lose +that lone dollar?" + +"Oh, I lost that too. But yo're a real smart cuss, now ain't you?" +queried Hopalong, his eyes twinkling and his face wreathed with good +humor. "An' how innocent you act, too. Thought you could scare me, +didn't you? Thought I'd go tearing 'round this fool town like a house +afire, hey? Well, I reckon you can guess again. Now, I'm owning up +that the joke's on me, so you hand over my cayuse, an' I'll make up +for lost time." + +Dave Wilkes' face expressed several things, but surprise was dominant. +"Why, I ain't even seen yore ol' cayuse, you chump! Last time I saw it +you was on him, going like the devil. Did somebody pull you off it an' +take it away from you?" he demanded with great sarcasm. "Is somebody +abusing you?" + +Hopalong bit into a generous handful of dried apricots, chewed +complacently for a moment, and replied: "'At's aw right; I want my +cayuse." Swallowing hastily, he continued: "I want it, an' I've come +to the right place for it, too. Hand it over, David." + +"Dod blast it, I tell you I ain't got it!" retorted Dave, beginning to +suspect that something was radically wrong. "I ain't seen it, an' I +don't know nothing about it." + +Hopalong wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "Well, then, Tom or Art +does, all right." + +"No, they don't, neither; I watched 'em leave an' they rode straight +out of town, an' went the other way, same as they allus do." Dave was +getting irritated. "Look here, you; are you joking or drunk, or both, +or is that animule of yourn really missing?" + +"Huh!" snorted Hopalong, trying some new prunes. "'Ese prunes er purty +good," he mumbled, in grave congratulation. "I don' get prunes like +'ese very of'n." + +"I reckon you don't! They ought to be good! Cost me thirty cents a +half-pound," Dave retorted with asperity, anxiously shifting his feet. +It didn't take much of a loss to wipe out a day's profits with him. + +"An' I don't reckon you paid none too much for 'em, at that," Mr. +Cassidy responded, nodding his head in comprehension. "Ain't no worms +in 'em, is there?" + +"Shore there is!" exploded Dave. "Plumb full of 'em!" + +"You don't say! Hardly know whether to take a chance with the worms or +try the apricots. Ain't no worms in them, anyhow. But when am I going +to get my cayuse? I've got a long way to go, an' delay is costly--how +much did you say these yaller fellers cost?" he asked significantly, +trying another handful of apricots. + +"On the dead level, cross my heart an' hope to die, but I ain't seen +yore cayuse since you left here," earnestly replied Dave. "If you +don't know where it is, then somebody went an' lifted it. It looks +like it's up to you to do some hunting, 'stead of cultivating a belly- +ache at /my/ expense. /I/ ain't trying to keep you, God knows!" + +Hopalong glanced out of the window as he considered, and saw, entering +the saloon, the same puncher who had confessed to seeing his horse. +"Hey Dave; wait a minute!" and he dashed out of the store and made +good time towards the liquid refreshment parlor. Dave promptly nailed +the covers on the boxes of prunes and apricots and leaned innocently +against the cracker box to await results, thinking hard all the while. +It looked like a plain case of horse-stealing to him. + +"Stranger," cried Hopalong, bouncing into the bar-room, "where did you +see that cayuse of mine?" + +"The ancient relic of yore family was aheading towards Hoyt's +Corners," the stranger replied, grinning broadly. "It's a long walk. +Have something before you starts?" + +"Damn the walk! Who was riding him?" + +"Nobody at all." + +"What do you mean?" + +"He wasn't being rid when I saw him." + +"Hang it, man; that cayuse was stole from me!" + +"Somewhat in the nature of a calamity, now ain't it?" smiled the +stranger, enjoying his contributions to the success of the joke. + +"You bet yore life it is!" shouted Hopalong, growing red and then +pale. "You tell me who was leading him, understand?" + +"Well, I couldn't see his face, honest I couldn't," replied the +stranger. "Every time I tried it I was shore blinded by the most awful +an' horrible neck-kerchief I've ever had the hard luck to lay my eyes +on. Of all the drunks I ever met, them there colors was-- Hey! Wait a +minute!" he shouted at Hopalong's back. + +"Dave, gimme yore cayuse an' a rifle--quick!" cried Hopalong from the +middle of the street as he ran towards the store. "Hypocrite son-of-a- +hoss-thief went an' run mine off. Might 'a' knowed nobody but a thief +could wear such a kerchief!" + +"I'm with you!" shouted Dave, leading the way on the run towards the +corral in the rear of his store. + +"No, you ain't with me, neither!" replied Hopalong, deftly saddling. +"This ain't no plain hoss-thief case--it's a private grudge. See you +later, mebby," and he was pacing a cloud of dust towards the outskirts +of the town. + +Dave looked after him. "Well, that feller has shore got a big start on +you, but he can't keep ahead of that Doll of mine for very long. She +can out-run anything in these parts. 'Sides, Cassidy's cayuse looked +sort of done up, while mine's as fresh as a bird. That thief will get +what's coming to him, all right." + + + + CHAPTER VII + + MR. CASSIDY COGITATES + +While Hopalong tried to find his horse, Ben Ferris pushed forward, +circling steadily to the east and away from the direction of Hoyt's +corners, which was as much a menace to his health and happiness as the +town of Grant, twenty miles to his rear. If he could have been certain +that no danger was nearer to him than these two towns, he would have +felt vastly relieved, even if his horse was not fresh. During the last +hour he had not urged it as hard as he had in the beginning of his +flight and it had dropped to a walk for minutes at a stretch. This was +not because he felt that he had plenty of time, but for the reason +that he understood horses and could not afford to exhaust his mount so +early in the chase. He glanced back from time to time as if fearing +what might be on his trail, and well he might fear. According to all +the traditions and customs of the range, both of which he knew well, +somewhere between him and Grant was a posse of hard-riding cow- +punchers, all anxious and eager for a glance at him over their sights. +In his mind's eye he could see them, silent, grim, tenacious, reeling +off the miles on that distance-eating lope. He had stolen a horse, and +that meant death if they caught him. He loosened his gaudy kerchief +and gulped in fear, not of what pursued, but of what was miles before +him. His own saddle, strapped behind the one he sat in, bumped against +him with each reach of the horse and had already made his back sore-- +but he must endure it for a time. Never in all his life had minutes +been so precious. + +Another hour passed and the horse seemed to be doing well, much better +than he had hoped--he would rest it for a few minutes at the next +water while he drank his fill and changed the bumping saddle. As he +rounded a turn and entered a heavily grassed valley he saw a stream +close at hand and, leaping off, fixed the saddle first. As he knelt to +drink he caught a movement and jumped up to catch his mount. Time +after time he almost touched it, but it evaded him and kept up the +game, cropping a mouthful of grass during each respite. + +"All right!" he muttered as he let it eat. "I'll get my drink while +you eat an' then I'll get you!" + +He knelt by the stream again and drank long and deep. As he paused for +breath something made him leap up and to one side, reaching for his +Colt at the same instant. His fingers found only leather and he swore +fiercely as he remembered--he had sold the Colt for food and kept the +rifle for defence. As he faced the rear a horseman rounded the turn +and the fugitive, wheeling, dashed for the stolen horse forty yards +away, where his rifle lay in its saddle sheath. But an angry command +and the sharp hum of a bullet fired in front of him checked his flight +and he stopped short and swore. + +"I reckon the jig's up," remarked Mr. Cassidy, balancing the up-raised +Colt with nicety and indifference. + +"Yea; I reckon so," sullenly replied the other, tears running into his +eyes. + +"Well, I'm damned!" snorted Hopalong with cutting contempt. "Crying +like a li'l baby! Got nerve enough to steal my cayuse, an' then go an' +beller like a lost calf when I catch you. Yo're a fine specimen of a +hoss-thief, I don't think!" + +"Yo're a liar!" retorted the other, clenching his fists and growing +red. + +Mr. Cassidy's mouth opened and then clicked shut as his Colt swung +down. But he did not shoot; something inside of him held his trigger +finger and he swore instead. The idea of a man stealing his horse, +being caught red-handed and unarmed, and still possessed of sufficient +courage to call his captor a name never tolerated or overlooked in +that country! And the idea that he, Hopalong Cassidy, of the Bar-20, +could not shoot such a thief! "Damn that sky pilot! He's shore gone +an' made me loco," he muttered, savagely, and then addressed his +prisoner. "Oh, you ain't crying? Wind got in yore eyes, I reckon, an' +sort of made 'em leak a little--that it? Or mebby them unholy green +roses an' yaller grass on that blasted fool neck-kerchief of yourn are +too much for /your/ eyes, too!" + +"Look ahere!" snapped the man on the ground, stepping forward, one +fist upraised. "I came nigh onto licking you this noon in that gospel +sharp's tent for making fun of that scarf, an' I'll do it yet if you +get any smart about it! You mind yore own business an' close yore fool +eyes if you don't like my clothes!" + +"Say! You ain't no cry-baby after all. Hanged if I even think yo're a +real genuine hoss-thief!" enthused Mr. Cassidy. "You act like a twin +brother; but what the devil ever made you steal that cayuse, anyhow?" + +"An' that's none of yore business, neither; but I'll tell you, just +the same," replied the thief. "I had to have it; that's why. I'll +fight you rough-an'-tumble to see if I keep it, or if you take the +cayuse an' shoot me besides: is it a go?" + +Hopalong stared at him and then a grin struggled for life, got it, and +spread slowly over his tanned countenance. "Yore gall is refreshing! +Damned if it ain't worse than the scarf. Here, you tell me what made +you take a chance like stealing a cayuse this noon--I'm getting to +like you, bad as you are, hanged if I ain't!" + +"Oh, what's the use?" demanded the other, tears again coming into his +eyes. "You'll think I'm lying an' trying to crawl out--an' I won't do +neither." + +"/I/ didn't say /you/ was a liar," replied Hopalong. "It was the other +way about. Reckon you can try me, anyhow; can't you?" + +"Yes; I s'pose so," responded the other, slowly, and in a milder tone +of voice. "An' when I called you that I was mad and desperate. I was +hasty--you see, my wife's dying, or dead, over in Winchester. I was +riding hard to get to her before it was too late when my cayuse +stepped into a hole just the other side of Grant--you know what +happened. I shot the animal, stripped off my saddle an' hoofed it to +town, an' dropped into that gospel dealer's layout to see if he could +make me feel any better--which he could not. I just couldn't stand his +palaver about death an' slipped out. I was going to lay for you an' +lick you for the way you acted about this scarf--had to do something +or go loco. But when I got outside there was yore cayuse, all saddled +an' ready to go. I just up an' threw my saddle on it, followed suit +with myself an' was ten miles out of town before I realized just what +I'd done. But the realizing part of it didn't make no difference to me +--I'd 'a' done it just the same if I had stopped to think it over. +That's flat, an' straight. I've got to get to that li'l woman as quick +as I can, an' I'd steal all the cayuses in the whole damned country if +they'd do me any good. That's all of it--take it or leave it. I put it +up to you. That's yore cayuse, but you ain't going to get it without +fighting me for it! If you shoot me down without giving me a chance, +all right! I'll cut a throat for that wore-out bronc!" + +Hopalong was buried in thought and came to himself just in time to +cover the other and stop him not six feet away. "Just a minute, before +you make me shoot you! I want to think about it." + +"Damn that gun!" swore the fugitive, nervously shifting his feet and +preparing to spring. "We'd 'a' been fighting by this time if it wasn't +for that!" + +"You stand still or I'll blow you apart," retorted Hopalong, grimly. +"A man's got a right to think, ain't he? An' if I had somebody here to +mind these guns so you couldn't sneak 'em on me I'd fight you so +blamed quick that you'd be licked before you knew you was at it. But +we ain't going to fight--/stand still/! You ain't got no show at all +when yo're dead!" + +"Then you gimme that cayuse--my God, man! Do you know the hell I've +been through for the last two days? Got the word up at Daly's Crossing +an' ain't slept since. I'll go loco if the strain lasts much longer! +She asking for me, begging to see me: an' me, like a damned idiot, +wasting time out here talking to another. Ride with me, behind me-- +it's only forty miles more--tie me to the saddle an' blow me to pieces +if you find I'm lying--do anything you wants; but let me get to +Winchester before dark!" + +Hopalong was watching him closely and at the end of the other's +outburst threw back his head. "I reckon I'm a plain fool, a jackass; +but I don't care. I'll rope that cayuse for you. You come along to +save time," Hopalong ordered, spurring forward. His borrowed rope +sailed out, tightened, and in a moment he was working at the saddle. +"Here, you; I'm going to swamp mounts with you--this one is fresher +an' faster." He had his own saddle off and the other on in record +time, and stepped back. "There; don't stand there like a fool--wake up +an' hustle! I might change my mind--that's the way to move! Gimme that +neck-kerchief for a souveneer, an' get out. Send that cayuse back to +Dave Wilkes, at Grant--it's hissn. Don't thank me; just gimme that +scarf an' ride like the devil." + +The other, already mounted, tore the kerchief from his throat and +handed it quickly to his benefactor. "If you ever want a man to take +you out of hell, send to Winchester for Ben Ferris--that's me. So +long!" + +Mr. Cassidy sat on his saddle where he had dropped it after making the +exchange and looked after the galloping horseman, and when a distant +rise had shut him from sight, turned his eyes on the scarf in his hand +and cogitated. Finally, with a long-drawn sigh he arose, and, placing +the scarf on the ground, caught and saddled his horse. Riding gloomily +back to where the riot of color fluttered on the grass he drew his +Colt and sent six bullets through it with a great amount of +satisfaction. Not content with the damage he had inflicted, he leaned +over and swooped it up. Riding further he also swooped up a stone and +tied the kerchief around it, and then stood up in his stirrups and +drew back his arm with critical judgment. He sat quietly for a time +after the gaudy missile had disappeared into the stream and then, +wheeling, cantered away. But he did not return to the town of Grant-- +he lacked the nerve to face Dave Wilkes and tell his childish and +improbable story. He would ride on and meet Red as they had agreed; a +letter would do for Mr. Wilkes, and after he had broken the shock in +that manner he could pay him a personal visit sometime soon. Dave +would never believe the story and when it was told Hopalong wanted to +have the value of the horse in his trousers pocket. Of course, Ben +Ferris /might/ have told the truth and he might return the horse +according to directions. Hopalong emerged from his reverie long enough +to appeal to his mount: + +"Bronc, I've been thinking: am I or am I not a jackass?" + + + + CHAPTER VIII + + RED BRINGS TROUBLE + +After a night spent on the plain and a cigarette for his breakfast, +Hopalong, grouchy and hungry, rode slowly to the place appointed for +his meeting with Red, but Mr. Connors was over two hours late. It was +now mid-forenoon and Hopalong occupied his time for a while by riding +out fancy designs on the sand; but he soon tired of this makeshift +diversion and grew petulant. Red's tardiness was all the worse because +the erring party to the agreement had turned in his saddle at Hoyt's +Corners and loosed a flippant and entirely uncalled-for remark about +his friend's ideas regarding appointments. + +"Well, that red-headed Romeo is shore late this time," Hopalong +muttered. "Why don't he find a girl closer to home, anyhow? Thank the +Lord I ain't got no use for shell games of any kind. Here I am, +without anything to eat an' no prospects of anything, sitting up on +this locoed layout like a sore thumb, an' can't move without hitting +myself! An' it'll be late to-day before I can get any grub, too. Oh, +well," he sighed, "I ain't in love, so things might be a whole lot +worse with me. An' he ain't in love, neither, only he won't listen to +reason. He gets mad an' calls me a sage hen an' says I'm stuck on +myself because some fool told me I had brains." + +He laughed as he pictured the object of his friend's affections. "Huh; +anybody that got one good, square look at her wouldn't ever accuse him +of having brains. But he'll forget her in a month. That was the life +of his last hobbling fit an' it was the worst he ever had." + +Grinning at his friend's peculiarly human characteristics he leaned +back in the saddle and felt for tobacco and papers. As he finished +pouring the chopped alfalfa into the paper he glanced up and saw a +mounted man top the sky-line of the distant hills and shoot down the +slope at full speed. + +"I knowed it: started three hours late an' now he's trying to make it +up in the last mile," Hopalong muttered, dexterously spreading the +tobacco along the groove and quickly rolling the cigarette. Lighting +it he looked up again and saw that the horseman was wildly waving a +sombrero. + +"Huh! Wigwagging for forgiveness," laughed the man who waited. "Old +son-of-a-gun, I'd wait a week if I had some grub, an' he knows it. +Couldn't get mad at him if I tried." + +Mr. Connors' antics now became frantic and he shouted something at the +top of his voice. His friend spurred his mount. "Come on, bronc; wake +up. His girl said 'yes' an' now he wants me to get him out of his +trouble." Whereupon he jogged forward. "What's that?" he shouted, +sitting up very straight. "What's that?" + +Red energetically swept the sombrero behind him and pointed to the +rear. "War-whoops! W-a-r w-h-o-o-p-s! Injuns, you chump!" Mr. Connors +appeared to be mildly exasperated. + +"Yes?" sarcastically rejoined Mr. Cassidy in his throat, and then +shouted in reply: "Love an' liquor don't mix very well in you. Wake +up! Come out of it!" + +"That's straight--I mean it!" cried Mr. Connors, close enough now to +save the remainder of his lungs. "It's a bunch of young bucks on their +first war-trail, I reckon. 'T ain't Geronimo, all right; I wouldn't be +here now if it was. Three of 'em chased me an' the two that are left +are coming hot-foot somewhere the other side of them hills. They act +sort of mad, too." + +"Mebby they ain't acting at all," cheerily replied his companion. "An' +then that's the way you got that graze?" pointing to a bloody furrow +on Mr. Connors' cheek. "But just the same it looks like the trail left +by a woman's finger nail." + +"Finger nail nothing," retorted Mr. Connors, flushing a little. "But, +for God's sake, are you going to sit here like a wart on a dead dog +an' wait for 'em?" he demanded with a rising inflection. "Do you +reckon yo're running a dance, or a party, or something like that?" + +"How many?" placidly inquired Mr. Cassidy, gazing intently towards the +high sky-line of the distant hills. + +"Two--an' I won't tell you again, neither!" snapped the owner of the +furrowed cheek. "The others are 'way behind now--but we're standing +/still/!" + +"Why didn't you say there was others?" reproved Hopalong. "Naturally I +didn't see no use of getting all het up just because two sprouted +papooses feel like crowding us a bit; it wouldn't be none of /our/ +funeral, would it?" and the indignant Mr. Cassidy hurriedly dismounted +and hid his horse in a nearby chaparral and returned to his companion +at a run. + +"Red, gimme yore Winchester an' then hustle on for a ways, have an +accident, fall off yore cayuse, an' act scared to death, if you know +how. It's that little trick Buck told us about, an' it shore ought to +work fine here. We'll see if two infant feather-dusters can lick the +Bar-20. Get a-going!" + +They traded rifles, Hopalong taking the repeater in place of the +single-shot gun he carried, and Red departed as bidden, his face +gradually breaking into an enthusiastic grin as he ruminated upon the +plan. "Level-headed old cuss; he's a wonder when it comes to planning +or fighting. An' lucky,--well, I reckon!" + +Hopalong ran forward for a short distance and slid down the steep bank +of a narrow arroyo and waited, the repeater thrust out through the +dense fringe of grass and shrubs which bordered the edge. When settled +to his complete satisfaction and certain that he was effectually +screened from the sight of any one in front of him, he arose on his +toes and looked around for his companion, and laughed. Mr. Connors was +bending very dejectedly apparently over his prostrate horse, but in +reality was swearing heartily at the ignorant quadruped because it +strove with might and main to get its master's foot off its head so it +could arise. The man in the arroyo turned again and watched the hills +and it was not long before he saw two Indians burst into view over the +crest and gallop towards his friend. They were not to be blamed +because they did not know the pursued had joined a friend, for the +second trail was yet some distance in front of them. + +"Pair of budding warriors, all right; an' awful important. Somebody +must 'a' told /them/ they had brains," Mr. Cassidy muttered. "They're +just at the age when they knows it all an' have to go 'round raising +hell all the time. Wonder when they jumped the reservation." + +The Indians, seeing Mr. Connors arguing with his prostrate horse, and +taking it for granted that he was not stopping for pleasure or to view +the scenery, let out a yell and dashed ahead at grater speed, at the +same time separating so as to encircle him and attack him front and +rear at the same time. They had a great amount of respect for cowboys. + +This manoeuvre was entirely unexpected and clashed violently with Mr. +Cassidy's plan of procedure, so two irate punchers swore heartily at +their rank stupidity in not counting on it. Of course everybody that +knew anything at all about such warfare knew that they would do just +such a thing, which made it all the more bitter. But Red had +cultivated the habit of thinking quickly and he saw at once that the +remedy lay with him; he astonished the exultant savages by straddling +his disgruntled horse as it scrambled to its feet and galloping away +from them, bearing slightly to the south, because he wished to lure +his pursuers to ride closer to his anxious and eager friend. + +This action was a success, for the yelling warriors, slowing +perceptibly because of their natural astonishment at the resurrection +and speed of an animal regarded as dead or useless, spurred on again, +drawing closer together, and along the chord of the arc made by Mr. +Connors' trail. Evidently the fool white man was either crazy or had +original and startling ideas about the way to rest a horse when hard +pressed, which pleased them much, since he had lost so much time. The +pleasures of the war-trail would be vastly greater if all white men +had similar ideas. + +Hopalong, the light of fighting burning strong in his eyes, watched +them sweep nearer and nearer, splendid examples of their type and +seeming to be a part of their mounts. Then two shots rang out in quick +succession and a cloud of pungent smoke arose lazily from the edge of +the arroyo as the warriors fell from their mounts not sixty yards from +the hidden marksman. + +Mr. Connors' rifle spat fire once to make assurance doubly sure and he +hastily rejoined his friend as that person climbed out of the arroyo. + +"Huh! They must have been half-breeds!" snorted Red in great disgust, +watching his friend shed sand from his clothes. "I allus opined that +'Paches was too blamed slick to bite on a game like that." + +"Well, they are purty 'lusive animals, 'Paches; but there are +exceptions," replied Hopalong, smiling at the success of their scheme. +"Them two ain't 'Paches--they're the exceptions. But let me tell you +that's a good game, just the same. It is as long as they don't see the +second trail in time. Didn't Buck and Skinny get two that way?" + +"Yes, I reckon so. But what'll we do now? What's the next play?" asked +Red, hurriedly, his eyes searching the sky-line of the hills. "The +rest of the coyotes will be here purty soon, an' they'll be madder +than ever now. An' you better gimme back that gun, too." + +"Take yore old gun--who wants the blamed thing, anyhow?" Hopalong +demanded, throwing the weapon at his friend as he ran to bring up the +hidden horse. When he returned he grinned pleasantly. "Why, we'll go +on like we was greased for calamity, that's what we'll do. Did you +reckon we was going to play leap-frog around here an' wait for the +rest of them paint-shops, like a blamed fool pair of idiots?" + +"I didn't know what /you/ might do, remembering how you acted when I +met you," retorted Red, shifting his cartridge belt so the empty loops +were behind and out of the way. "But I shore knowed what we ought to +do, all right." + +"Well, mebby you also know how many's headed this way; do you?" + +"You've got me stumped there; but there's a round dozen, anyway," Red +replied. "You see, the three that chased me were out scouting ahead of +the main bunch; an' I didn't have no time to take no blasted census." + +"Then we've got to hit the home trail, an' hit it hard. Wind up that +four-laigged excuse of yourn, an' take my dust," Hopalong responded, +leading the way. "If we can get home there'll be a lot of disgusted +braves hitting the high spots on the back trail trying to find a way +out. Buck an' the rest of the boys will be a whole lot pleased, too. +We can muster thirty men in two hours if we gets to Buckskin, an' +that's twenty more than we'll need." + +"Tell you one thing, Hoppy; we can get as far as Powers' old ranch +house, an' that's shore," replied Red, thoughtfully. + +"Yes!" exploded his companion in scorn and pity. "That old sieve of a +shack ain't good enough for /me/ to die in, no matter what you think +about it. Why, it's as full of holes as a stiff hat in a melee. Yo're +on the wrong trail; think again." + +Mr. Cassidy objected not because he believed that Powers' old ranch +house was unworthy of serious consideration as a place of refuge and +defence, but for the reason that he wished to reach Buckskin so his +friends might all get in on the treat. Times were very dull on the +ranch, and this was an occasion far too precious to let slip by. +Besides, he then would have the pleasure of leading his friends +against the enemy and battling on even terms. If he sought shelter he +and Red would have to fight on the defensive, which was a game he +hated cordially because it put him in a relatively subordinate +position and thereby hurt his pride. + +"Let me tell you that it's a whole lot better than thin air with a +hard-working circle around us--an' you know what that means," retorted +Mr. Connors. "But if you don't want to take a chance in the shack, why +mebby we can make Wallace's, or the Cross-O-Cross. That is, if we +don't get turned out of our way." + +"We don't head for no Cross-O-Cross or Wallace's," rejoined his friend +with emphasis, "an' we won't waste no time in Powers' shack, neither; +we'll push right through as hard as we can go for Buckskin. Let them +fellers find their own hunting--our outfit comes first. An' besides +that'll mean a detour in a country fine for ambushes. We'd never get +through." + +"Well, have it yore own way, then!" snapped Red. "You allus was a +hard-headed old mule, anyhow." In his heart Red knew that Hopalong was +right about Wallace's and the Cross-O-Cross. + +Some time after the two punchers had quitted the scene of their trap, +several Apaches loped up, read the story of the tragedy at a glance, +and galloped on in pursuit. They had left the reservation a fortnight +before under the able leadership of that veteran of many war-trails-- +Black Bear. Their leader, chafing at inaction and sick of the monotony +of reservation life, had yielded to the entreaties of a score of +restless young men and slipped away at their head, eager for the joys +of raiding and plundering. But instead of stealing horses and +murdering isolated whites as they had expected, they met with heavy +repulses and were now without the mind of their leader. They had fled +from one defeat to another and twice had barely eluded the cavalry +which pursued them. Now two more of their dwindling force were dead +and another had been found but an hour before. Rage and ferocity +seethed in each savage heart and they determined to get the puncher +they had chased, and that other whose trail they now saw for the first +time. They would place at least one victory against the string of +their defeats, and at any cost. Whips rose and fell and the war-party +shot forward in a compact group, two scouts thrown ahead to feel the +way. + +Red and Hopalong rode on rejoicing, for there were three less Apaches +loose in the Southwest for the inhabitants to swear about and fear, +and there was an excellent chance of more to follow. The Southwest had +no toleration for the Government's policy of dealing with Indians and +derived a great amount of satisfaction every time an Apache was +killed. It still clung to the time-honored belief that the only good +Indian was a dead one. Mr. Cassidy voiced his elation and then rubbed +an empty stomach in vain regret,--when a bullet shrilled past his +head, so unexpectedly as to cause him to duck instinctively and then +glance apologetically at his red-haired friend; and both spurred their +mounts to greater speed. Next Mr. Connors grabbed frantically at his +perforated sombrero and grew petulant and loquacious. + +"Both them shots was lucky, Hoppy; the feller that fired at me did it +on the dead run; but that won't help us none if one of 'em connects +with us. You gimme that Sharps--got to show 'em that they're taking +big chances crowding us this way." He took the heavy rifle and turned +in the saddle. "It's an even thousand, if it's a yard. He don't look +very big, can't hardly tell him from his cayuse; an' the wind's puffy. +Why don't you dirty or rust this gun? The sun glitters all along the +barrel. Well, here goes." + +"Missed by a mile," reproved Hopalong, who would have been stunned by +such a thing as a hit under the circumstances, even if his good- +shooting friend had made it. + +"Yes! Missed the coyote I aimed for, but I got the cayuse of his off +pardner; see it?" + +"Talk about luck!" + +"That's all right: it takes blamed good shooting to miss that close in +this case. Look! It's slowed 'em up a bit, an' that's about all I +hoped to do. Bet they think I'm a real, shore-'nuff medicine-man. Now +gimme another cartridge." + +"I will not; no use wasting lead at this range. We'll need all the +cartridges we got before we get out of this hole. You can't do nothing +without stopping--an' that takes time." + +"Then I'll stop! The blazes with the time! Gimme another, d'ye hear?" + +Mr. Cassidy heard, complied, and stopped beside his companion, who was +very intent upon the matter at hand. It took some figuring to make a +hit when the range was so great and the sun so blinding and the wind +so capricious. He lowered the rifle and peered through the smoke at +the confusion he had caused by dropping the nearest warrior. He was +said to be the best rifle shot in the Southwest, which means a great +deal, and his enemies did not deny it. But since the Sharps shot a +special cartridge and was reliable up to the limit of its sight gauge, +a matter of eighteen hundred yards, he did not regard the hit as +anything worthy of especial mention. Not so his friend, who grinned +joyously and loosed his admiration. + +"Yo're a shore wonder with that gun, Red! Why don't you lose that +repeater an' get a gun like mine? Lord, if I could use a rifle like +you, I wouldn't have that gun of yourn for a gift. Just look at what +you did with it! Please get one like it." + +"I'm plumb satisfied with the repeater," replied Red. "I don't miss +very often at eight hundred with it, an' that's long enough range for +most anybody. An' if I do miss, I can send another that won't, an' +right on the tail of the first, too." + +"Ah, the devil! You make me disgusted with yore fool talk about that +carbine!" snapped his companion, and the subject was dropped. + +The merits of their respective rifles had always been a bone of +contention between them and one well chewed, at that. Red was very +well satisfied with his Winchester, and he was a good judge. + +"You did stop 'em a little," asserted Mr. Cassidy some time later when +he looked back. "You stopped 'em coming straight, but they're +spreading out to work up around us. Now, if we had good cayuses +instead of these wooden wonders, we could run away from 'em dead easy, +draw their best mounted warriors to the front an' then close with 'em. +Good thing their cayuses are well tired out, for as it is we've got to +make a stand purty soon. Gee! They don't like you, Red; they're +calling you names in the sign language. Just look at 'em cuss you!" + +"How much water have you got?" inquired his friend with anxiety. + +"Canteen plumb full. How're you fixed?" + +"I got the same, less one drink. That gives us enough for a couple of +days with some to spare, if we're careful," Mr. Connors replied. New +Mexican canteens are built on generous lines and are known as life- +preservers. + +"Look at that glory-hunter go!" exclaimed Red, watching a brave who +was riding half a mile to their right and rapidly coming abreast of +them. "Wonder how he got over there without us seeing him." + +"Here; stop him!" suggested Hopalong, holding out his Sharps. "We +can't let him get ahead of us and lay in ambush--that's what he's +playing to do." + +"My gun's good, and better, for me, at this range; but you know, I +can't hit a jack-rabbit going over rough country as fast as that +feller is," replied his companion, standing up in his stirrups and +firing. + +"Huh! Never touched him! But he's edging off a-plenty. See him cuss +you. What's he calling you, anyhow?" + +"Aw, shut up! How the devil do /I/ know? I don't talk with my arms." + +"Are you superstitious, Red?" + +"No! Shut up!" + +"Well, I am. See that feller over there? If he gets in front of us +it's a shore sign that somebody's going to get hurt. He'll have plenty +of time to get cover an' pick us off as we come up." + +"Don't you worry--his cayuse is deader'n ours. They must 'a' been +pushing on purty hard the last few days. See it stumble?--what'd I +tell you!" + +"Yes; but they're gaining on us slow but shore. We've got to make a +stand purty soon--how much further do you reckon that infernal shack +is, anyhow?" Hopalong asked sharply. + +"'T ain't fur off--see it any minute now." + +"Here," remarked Hopalong, holding out his rifle, "stencil yore mark +on his hide; catch him just as he strikes the top of that little +rise." + +"Ain't got time--that shack can't be much further." + +And it wasn't, for as they galloped over a rise they saw, half a mile +ahead of them, an adobe building in poor state of preservation. It was +Powers' old ranch house, and as they neared it, they saw that there +was no doubt about the holes. + +"Told you it was a sieve," grunted Hopalong, swinging in on the tail +of his companion. "Not worth a hang for anything," he added bitterly. + +"It'll answer, all right," retorted Red grimly. + + + + CHAPTER IX + + MR. HOLDEN DROPS IN + +Mr. Cassidy dismounted and viewed the building with open disgust, +walking around it to see what held it up, and when he finally realized +that it was self-supporting his astonishment was profound. Undoubtedly +there were shacks in the United States in worse condition, but he +hoped their number was small. Of course he knew that the building was +small. Of course he knew that the building would make a very good +place of defence, but for the sake of argument he called to his +companion and urged that they be satisfied with what defence they +could extemporize in the open. Mr. Connors hotly and hastily dissented +as he led the horses into the building, and straightway the subject +was arbitrated with much feeling and snappy eloquence. Finally +Hopalong thought that Red was a chump, and said so out loud, whereat +Red said unpleasant things about his good friend's pedigree, +attributes, intelligence, et al., even going so far as to +prognosticate his friend's place of eternal abode. The remarks were +fast getting to be somewhat personal in tenor when a whine in the air +swept up the scale to a vicious shriek as it passed between them, +dropped rapidly to a whine again and quickly died out in the distance, +a flat report coming to their ears a few seconds later. Invisible bees +seemed to be winging through the air, the angry and venomous droning +becoming more pronounced each passing moment, and the irregular +cracking of rifles grew louder rapidly. An angry /s-p-a-t!/ told of +where a stone behind them had launched the ricochet which hurled +skyward with a wheezing scream. A handful of 'dobe dust sprang from +the corner of the building and sifted down upon them, causing Red to +cough. + +"That ricochet was a Sharps!" exclaimed Hopalong, and they lost no +time in getting into the building, where the discussion was renewed as +they prepared for the final struggle. Red grunted his cheerful +approval, for now he was out of the blazing sun and where he could +better appreciate the musical tones of the flying bullets; but his +companion, slamming shut the door and propping it with a fallen roof- +beam, grumbled and finally gave rein to his rancor by sneering at the +Winchester. + +"It shore gets me that after all I have said about that gun you will +tote it around with you and force yoreself into a suicide's grave," +quoth Mr. Cassidy, with exuberant pugnacity. "I ain't in no way +objecting to the suicide part of it, but I can't see that it's at all +fair to drag /me/ onto the edge of everlasting eternity with you. If +you ain't got no regard for yore own life you shore ought to think a +little about yore friend's. Now you'll waste all yore cartridges an' +then come snooping around me to borrow my gun. Why don't you lose the +damned thing?" + +"What I pack ain't none of yore business, which same I'll uphold," +retorted Mr. Connors, at last able to make himself heard. "You get +over on yore own side an' use yore Colt; I've wondered a whole lot +where you ever got the sense to use a Colt--/I/ wouldn't be a heap +surprised to see you toting a pearl-handled .22, like the kids use. +Now you 'tend to yore grave-yard aspirants, an' lemme do the same with +mine." + +"The Lord knows I've stood a whole lot from you because you just can't +help being foolish, but I've got plumb weary and sick of it. It stops +right here or you won't get no 'Paches," snorted Hopalong, peering +intently through a hole in the shack. The more they squabbled the +better they liked it,--controversies had become so common that they +were merely a habit; and they served to take the grimness out of +desperate situations. + +"Aw, you can't lick one side of me," averred Red loftily. "You never +did stop anybody that was anything," he jeered as he fired from his +window. "Why, you couldn't even hit the bottom of the Grand Canyon if +you leaned over the edge." + +"You could, if you leaned too far, you red-headed wart of a half- +breed," snapped Hopalong. "But how about the Joneses, Tarantula +Charley, Slim Travennes, an' all the rest? How about them, hey?" + +"Huh! You couldn't 'a' got any of 'em if they had been sober," and Mr. +Connors shook so with mirth that the Indian at whom he had fired got +away with a whole skin and cheerfully derided the marksman. "That +'Pache shore reckons it was you shooting at him, I missed him so far. +Now, you shut up--I want to get some so we can go home. I don't want +to stay out here all night an' the next day as well," Red grumbled, +his words dying slowly in his throat as he voiced other thoughts. + +Hopalong caught sight of an Apache who moved cautiously through a +chaparral lying about nine hundred yards away. As long as the distant +enemy lay quietly he could not be discerned, but he was not content +with assured safety and took a chance. Hopalong raised his rifle to +his shoulder as the Indian fired and the latter's bullet, striking the +edge of the hole through which Mr. Cassidy peered, kicked up a +generous handful of dust, some of which found lodgment in that +individual's eyes. + +"Oh! Oh! Oh! Wow!" yelled the unfortunate, dancing blindly around the +room in rage and pain, and dropping his rifle to grab at his eyes. +"Oh! Oh! Oh!" + +His companion wheeled like a flash and grabbed him as he stumbled +past. "Are you plugged bad, Hoppy? Where did they get you? Are you hit +bad?" and Red's heart was in his voice. + +"No, I ain't plugged bad!" mimicked Hopalong. "I ain't plugged at +all!" he blazed, kicking enthusiastically at his solicitous friend. +"Get me some water, you jackass! Don't stand there like a fool! I +ain't going to fall down. Don't you know my eyes are full of 'dobe?" + +Red, avoiding another kick, hastily complied, and as hastily left Mr. +Cassidy to wash out the dirt while he returned to his post by the +window. "Anybody'd think you was full of red-eye, the way you act," +muttered Red peevishly. + +Hopalong, rubbing his eyes of the dirt, went back to the hole in the +wall and looked out. "Hey, Red! Come over here an' spill that brave's +conceit. I can't keep my eyes open long enough to aim, an' it's a nice +shot, too. It'd serve him right if you got him!" + +Mr. Connors obeyed the summons and peered out cautiously. "I can't see +him, nohow; where is the coyote?" + +"Over there in that little chaparral; see him now? /There!/ See him +moving. Do you mean to tell me--" + +"Yep; I see him, all right. You watch," was the reply. "He's just over +nine hundred--where's yore Sharps?" He took the weapon, glanced at the +Buffington sight, which he found to be set right, and aimed carefully. + +Hopalong blinked through another hole as his friend fired and saw the +Indian flop down and crawl aimlessly about on hands and knees. "What's +he doing now, Red?" + +"Playing marbles, you chump; an' here goes for his agate," replied the +man with the Sharps, firing again. "There! Gee!" he exclaimed, as a +bullet hummed in through the window he had quitted for the moment, and +thudded into the wall, making the dry adobe fly. It had missed him by +only a few inches and he now crept along the floor to the rear of the +room and shoved his rifle out among the branches of a stunted mesquite +which grew before a fissure in the wall. "You keep away from that +windy for a minute, Hoppy," he warned as he waited. + +A terror-stricken lizard flashed out of the fissure and along the wall +where the roof had fallen in and flitted into a hole, while a fly +buzzed loudly and hovered persistently around Red's head, to the rage +of that individual. "Ah, ha!" he grunted, lowering the rifle and +peering through the smoke. A yell reached his ears and he forthwith +returned to his window, whistling softly. + +Evidently Mr. Cassidy's eyes were better and his temper sweeter, for +he hummed "Dixie" and then jumped to "Yankee Doodle," mixing the two +airs with careless impartiality, which was a sign that he was thinking +deeply. "Wonder what ever became of Powers, Red. Peculiar feller, he +was." + +"In jail, I reckon, if drink hasn't killed him." + +"Yes; I reckon so," and Mr. Cassidy continued his medley, which +prompted his friend quickly to announce his unqualified disapproval. + +"You can make more of a mess of them two songs than anybody I ever +heard murder 'em! /Shut up!/"--and the concert stopped, the vocalist +venting his feelings at an Indian, and killing the horse instead. + +"Did you get him?" queried Red. + +"Nope; but I got his cayuse," Hopalong replied, shoving a fresh +cartridge into the foul, greasy breech of the Sharps. "An' here's +where I get him--got to square up for my eyes some way," he muttered, +firing. "Missed! Now what do you think of that!" he exclaimed. + +"Better take my Winchester," suggested Red, in a matter-of-fact way, +but he chuckled softly and listened for the reply. + +"Aw, you go to the devil!" snapped Mr. Cassidy, firing again. "Whoop! +Got him that time!" + +"Where?" asked his companion, with strong suspicion. + +"None of yore business!" + +"Aw, darn it! Who spilled the water?" yelled Red, staring blankly at +the overturned canteen. + +"Pshaw! Reckon I did, Red," apologized his friend ruefully. "Now of +all the cussed luck!" + +"Oh, well; we've got another, an' you had to wash out yore eyes. Lucky +we each had one--/Holy smoke!/ It's most all gone! The top is loose!" + +Heartfelt profanity filled the room and the two disgusted punchers +went sullenly back to their posts. It was a calamity of no small +magnitude, for, while food could be dispensed with for a long time if +necessary, going without water was another question. It was as +necessary as cartridges. + +Then Hopalong laughed at the ludicrous side of the whole affair, +thereby revealing one of the characteristics which endeared him to his +friends. No matter how desperate a situation might be, he could always +find in it something at which to laugh. He laughed going into danger +and coming out of it, with a joke or a pleasantry always trembling on +the end of his tongue. + +"Red, did it ever strike you how cussed thirsty a feller gets just as +soon as he knows he can't have no drink? But it don't make much +difference, nohow. We'll get out of this little scrape just as we've +allus got out of trouble. There's some mad war-whoops outside that are +worse off than we are, because they are at the wrong end of yore gun. +I feel sort of sorry for 'em." + +"Yo're shore a happy idiot," grinned Red. "Hey! Listen!" + +Galloping was heard and Hopalong, running to the door, looked out +through a crack as sudden firing broke out around the rear of the +shack, and fell to pulling away the props, crying, "It's a puncher, +Red; he's riding this way! Come on an' help him in!" + +"He's a blamed fool to ride this way! I'm with you!" replied Red, +running to his side. + +Half a mile from the house, coming across the open space as fast as he +could urge his horse, rode a cowboy, and not far behind him raced +about a dozen Apaches, yelling and firing. + +Red picked up his companion's rifle, and steadying it against the jamb +of the door, fired, dropping one of the foremost of the pursuers. +Quickly reloading again, he fired and missed. The third shot struck +another horse, and then taking up his own gun he began to fire +rapidly, as rapidly as he could work the lever and yet make his shots +tell. Hopalong drew his Colt and ran back to watch the rear of the +house, and it was well that he did so, for an Apache in that +direction, believing that the trapped punchers were so busily engaged +with the new developments as to forget for the moment, sprinted +towards the back window; and he had gotten within twenty paces of the +goal when Hopalong's Colt cracked a protest. Seeing that the warrior +was no longer a combatant, Mr. Cassidy ran back to the door just as +the stranger fell from his horse and crawled past Red. The door +slammed shut, the props fell against it, and the two friends turned to +the work of driving back the second band, which, however, had given up +all hope of rushing the house in the face of Red's telling fire, and +had sought cover instead. + +The stranger dragged himself to the canteens and drank what little +water remained, and then turned to watch the two men moving from place +to place, firing coolly and methodically. He thought he recognized one +of them from the descriptions he had heard, but he was not sure. + +"My name's Holden," he whispered hoarsely, but the cracking of the +rifles drowned his voice. During a lull he tried again. "My name's +Holden," he repeated weakly. "I'm from the Cross-O-Cross, an' can't +get back there again." + +"Mine's Cassidy, an' that's Connors, of the Bar-20. Are you hurt very +bad?" + +"No; not very bad," lied Holden, trying to smile. "Gee, but I'm glad I +fell in with you two fellers," he exclaimed. He was but little more +than a boy, and to him Hopalong Cassidy and Red Connors were names +with which to conjure. "But I'm plumb sorry I went an' brought you +more trouble," he added regretfully. + +"Oh, pshaw! We had it before you came--you needn't do no worrying +about that, Holden; besides, I reckon you couldn't help it," Hopalong +grinned facetiously. "But tell us how you came to mix up with that +bunch," he continued. + +Holden shuddered and hesitated a moment, his companions alertly +shifting from crack to crack, window to window, their rifles cracking +at intervals. They appeared to him to act as if they had done nothing +else all their lives but fight Indians from that shack, and he braced +up a little at their example of coolness. + +"It's an awful story, awful!" he began. "I was riding towards Hoyt's +Corners an' when I got about half way there I topped a rise an' saw a +nester's house about half a mile away. It wasn't there the last time I +rode that way, an' it looked so peaceful an' home-like that I stopped +an' looked at it a few minutes. I was just going to start again when +that war-party rode out of a barranca close to the house an' went +straight for it at top speed. It seemed like a dream, 'cause I thought +Apaches never got so far east. They don't, do they? I thought not-- +these must 'a' got turned out of their way an' had to hustle for +safety. Well, it was all over purty quick. I saw 'em drag out two +women an'--an'--purty soon a man. He was fighting like fury, but he +didn't last long. Then they set fire to the house an' threw the man's +body up on the roof. I couldn't seem to move till the flames shot up, +but then I must 'a' went sort of loco, because I emptied my gun at +'em, which was plumb foolish at that distance, for me. The next thing +I knowed was that half of 'em was coming my way as hard as they could +ride, an' I lit out instanter; an' here I am. I can't get that sight +outen my head nohow--it'll drive me loco!" he screamed, sobbing like a +child from the horror of it all. + +His auditors still moved around the room, growing more and more +vindictive all the while and more zealously endeavoring to create a +still greater deficit in one Apache war-party. They knew what he had +looked upon, for they themselves had become familiar with the work of +Apaches in Arizona. They could picture it vividly in all its devilish +horror. Neither of them paid any apparent attention to their +companion, for they could not spare the time, and, also, they believed +it best to let him fight out his own battles unassisted. + +Holden sobbed and muttered as the minutes dragged along, at times +acting so strangely as to draw a covert side-glance from one or both +of the Bar-20 punchers. Then Mr. Connors saw his boon companion +suddenly lean out of a window and immediately become the target for +the hard-working enemy. He swore angrily at the criminal recklessness +of it. "Hey, you! Come in out of that! Ain't you got no brains at all, +you blasted idiot! Don't you know that we need every gun?" + +"Yes; that's right. I sort of forgot," grinned the reckless one, +obeying with alacrity and looking sheepish. "But you know there's two +thundering big tarantulas out there fighting like blazes. You ought to +see 'em jump! It's a sort of a leap-frog fight, Red." + +"Fool!" snorted Mr. Connors belligerently. "/You'd/ 'a' jumped if one +of them slugs had 'a' got you! Yo're the damnedest fool that ever +walked on two laigs, you blasted sage-hen!" Mr. Connors was beginning +to lose his temper and talk in his throat. + +"Well, they didn't get me, did they? What you yelling about, anyhow?" +growled Hopalong, trying to brazen it out. + +"An' /you/ talking about suicide to me!" snapped Mr. Connors, +determined to rub it in and have the last word. + +Mr. Holden stared, open-mouthed, at the man who could enjoy a +miserable spider fight under such distressing circumstances, and his +shaken nerves became steadier as he gave thought to the fact that he +was a companion of the two men about whose exploits he had heard so +much. Evidently the stories had not been exaggerated. What must they +think of him for giving way as he had? He rose to his feet in time to +see a horse blunder into the open on Red's side of the house, and +after it blundered its owner, who immediately lost all need of earthly +conveyances. Holden laughed from the joy of being with a man who could +shoot like that, and he took up his rifle and turned to a crack in the +wall, filled with the determination to let his companions know that he +was built of the right kind of timber after all, wounded as he was. + +Red's only comment, as he pumped a fresh cartridge into the barrel, +was, "He must 'a' thought he saw a spider fight, too." + +"Hey, Red," called Hopalong. "The big one is dead." + +"What big one?" + +"Why, don't you remember? That big tarantula I was watching. One was +bigger than the other, but the little feller shore waded into him +an'--" + +"Go to the devil!" shouted Red, who had to grin, despite his anger. + +"Presently, presently," replied Hopalong, laughing. + +So the day passed, and when darkness came upon them all of the +defenders were wounded, Holden desperately so. + +"Red, one of us has got to try to make the ranch," Hopalong suddenly +announced, and his friend knew he was right. Since Holden had appeared +upon the scene they had known that they could not try a dash; one of +them had to stay. + +"We'll toss for it; heads, I go," Red suggested, flipping a coin. + +"Tails!" cried Hopalong. "It's only thirty miles to Buckskin, an' if I +can get away from here I'm good to make it by eleven to-night. I'll +stop at Cowan's an' have him send word to Lucas an' Bartlett, so +there'll be enough in case any of our boys are out on the range in +some line house. We can pick 'em up on the way back, so there won't be +no time lost. If I get through you can expect excitement on the +outside of this sieve by daylight. You an' Holden can hold her till +then, because they never attack at night. It's the only way out of +this for us--we ain't got cartridges or water enough to last another +day." + +Red, knowing that Hopalong was taking a desperate chance in working +through the cordon of Indians which surrounded them, and that the +house was safe when compared to running such a gantlet, offered to go +through the danger line with him. For several minutes a wordy war +raged and finally Red accepted a compromise; he was to help, but not +to work through the line. + +"But what's the use of all this argument?" feebly demanded Holden. +"Why don't you both go? I ain't a-going to live nohow, so there ain't +no use of anybody staying here with me, to die with me. Put a bullet +through me so them devils can't play with me like they do with others, +an' then get away while you've got a chance. Two men can get through +as easy as one." He sank back, exhausted by the effort. + +"No more of that!" cried Red, trying to be stern. "I'm going to stay +with you an' see things through. I'd be a fine sort of a coyote to +sneak off an' leave you for them fiends. An', besides, I can't get +away; my cayuse is hit too hard an' yourn is dead," he lied +cheerfully. "An' yo're going to get well, all right. I've seen fellers +hit harder than you are pull through." + +Hopalong walked over to the prostrate man and shook hands with him. +"I'm awful glad I met you, Holden. Yo're pure grit all the way +through, an' I like to tie to that kind of a man. Don't you worry +about nothing; Red can handle this proposition, an' we'll have you in +Buckskin by to-morrow night; you'll be riding again in two weeks. So +long." + +He turned to Red and shook hands silently, led his horse out of the +building and mounted, glad that the moon had not yet come up, for in +the darkness he had a chance. + +"Good luck, Hoppy!" cried Red, running to the door. "Good luck!" + +"You bet--an' lots of it, too," groaned Holden, but he was gone. Then +Red wheeled. "Holden, keep yore eyes an' ears open. I'm going out to +see that he gets off. He may run into a--" and he, too, was gone. + +Holden watched the doors and windows, striving to resist the weak, +giddy feeling in his head, and ten minutes later he heard a shot and +then several more in quick succession. Shortly afterward Red called +out, and almost immediately the Bar-20 puncher crawled in through a +window. + +"Well?" anxiously cried the man on the floor. "Did he make it?" + +"I reckon so. He got away from the first crowd, anyhow. I wasn't very +far behind him, an' by the time they woke up to what was going on he +was through an' riding like blazes. I heard him call 'em half-breeds a +moment later an' it sounded far off. They hit me,--fired at my flash, +like I drilled one of them. But it ain't much, anyhow. How are you +feeling now?" + +"Fine!" lied the other. "That Cassidy is shore a wonder--he's all +right, an' so are you. I'll never see him again, but I shore hope he +gets through!" + +"Don't be foolish. Here, you finish the water in yore canteen--I +picked it up outside by yore cayuse. Then go to sleep," ordered Red. +"I'll do all the watching that's necessary." + +"I will if you'll call me when you get sleepy." + +"Why, shore I will. But don't you want the rest of the water? I ain't +a bit thirsty--I had all I could hold just before you came," Red +remarked as his companion pushed the canteen against him in the dark. +He was choking with thirst. "Well, then; all right," and Red pretended +to drink. "Now, then, you go to sleep; a good snooze will do you a +world of good--it's just what you need." + + + + CHAPTER X + + BUCK TAKES A HAND + +Cowan's saloon, club, and place of general assembly for the town of +Buckskin and the nearby ranches, held a merry crowd, for it was pay- +day on the range and laughter and liquor ran a close race. Buck +Peters, his hands full of cigars, passed through the happy-go-lucky, +do-as-you-please crowd and invited everybody to smoke, which nobody +refused to do. Wood Wright, of the C-80, tuned his fiddle anew and +swung into a rousing quick-step. Partners were chosen, the "women" +wearing handkerchiefs on their arms to indicate the fact, and the room +shook and quivered as the scraping of heavy boots filled the air with +a cloud of dust. "Allaman left!" cried the prompter, and then the +dance stopped as if by magic. The door had crashed open and a blood- +stained man staggered in and towards the bar, crying, "Buck! Red's +hemmed in by 'Paches!" + +"Good God!" roared the foreman of the Bar-20, leaping forward, the +cigars falling to the floor to be crushed and ground into powder by +careless feet. He grasped his puncher and steadied him while Cowan +slid an extra generous glassful of brandy across the bar for the +wounded man. The room was in an uproar, men grabbing rifles and +running out to get their horses, for it was plain to be seen that +there was hard work to be done, and quickly. Questions, threats, +curses filled the air, those who remained inside to get the story +listening intently to the jerky narrative; those outside, caring less +for the facts of an action past than for the action to come, shouted +impatiently for a start to be made, even threatening to go on and +tackle the proposition by themselves if there were not more haste. +Hopalong told in a graphic, terse manner all that was necessary, while +Buck and Cowan hurriedly bandaged his wounds. + +"Come on! Come on!" shouted the mounted crowd outside, angry, and +impatient for a start, the prancing of horses and the clinking of +metal adding to the noise. "Get a move on! /Will/ you hurry up!" + +"Listen, Hoppy!" pleaded Buck, in a furore. "Shut up, you outside!" he +yelled. "You say they know that you got away, Hoppy?" he asked. "All +right--/Lanky!/" he shouted. "/Lanky!/" + +"All right, Buck!" and Lanky Smith roughly pushed his way through the +crowd to his foreman's side. "Here I am." + +"Take Skinny and Pete with you, an' a lead horse apiece. Strike +straight for Powers' old ranch house. Them Injuns'll have pickets out +looking for Hoppy's friends. You three get the pickets nearest the old +trail through that arroyo to the southeast, an' then wait for us. +We'll come along the high bank on the left. Don't make no noise doing +it, neither, if you can help it. Understand? Good! Now ride like the +devil!" + +Lanky grabbed Pete and Skinny on his way out and disappeared into the +corral; and very soon thereafter hoof-beats thudded softly in the +sandy street and pounded into the darkness of the north, soon lost to +the ear. An uproar of advice and good wishes crashed after them, for +the game had begun. + +"It's Powers' old shack, boys!" shouted a man in the door to the +restless force outside, which immediately became more restless. "Hey! +Don't go yet!" he begged. "Wait for me an' the rest. Don't be a lot of +idiots!" + +Excited and impatient voices replied from the darkness, vexed, +grouchy, and querulous. "Then get a move on--/whoa!/--it'll be light +before we get there if you don't hustle!" roared one voice above the +confusion. "You know what /that/ means!" + +"Come on! Come on! For God's sake, are you tied to the bar?" + +"Yo're a lot of old grandmothers! Come on!" + +Hopalong appeared in the door. "I'll show you the way, boys!" he +shouted. "Cowan, put my saddle on yore cayuse--/pronto/!" + +"Good for you, Hoppy!" came from the street. "We'll wait!" + +"You stay here; yo're hurt too much!" cried Buck to his puncher, as he +grabbed up a box of cartridges from a shelf behind the bar. "Ain't you +got no sense? There's enough of us to take care of this without you!" + +Hopalong wheeled and looked his foreman squarely in the eyes. "Red's +out there, waiting for me--I'm going! I'd be a fine sort of a coyote +to leave him in that hell hole an' not go back, wouldn't I!" he said, +with quiet determination. + +"Good for you, Cassidy!" cried a man who hastened out to mount. + +"Well, then, come on," replied Buck. "There's blamed few like you," he +muttered, following Hopalong outside. + +"Here's the cayuse, Cassidy," cried Cowan, turning the animal over to +him. "/Wait/, Buck!" and he leaped into the building and ran out +again, shoving a bottle of brandy and a package of food into the +impatient foreman's hand. "Mebby Red or Hoppy'll need it--so long, an' +good luck!" and he was alone in a choking cloud of dust, peering +through the darkness along the river trail after a black mass that was +swallowed up almost instantly. Then, as he watched, the moon pushed +its rim up over the hills and he laughed joyously as he realized what +its light would mean to the crowd. "There'll be great doings when +/that/ gang cuts loose," he muttered with savage elation. "Wish I was +with 'em. Damn Injuns, anyhow!" + +Far ahead of the main fighting force rode the three special-duty men, +reeling off the miles at top speed and constantly distancing their +friends, for they changed mounts at need, thanks to the lead horses +provided by Mr. Peters' cool-headed foresight. It was a race against +dawn, and every effort was made to win--the life of Red Connors hung +in the balance and a minute might turn the scale. + + + +In Powers' old ranch house the night dragged along slowly to the grim +watcher, and the man huddled in the corner stirred uneasily and +babbled, ofttimes crying out in horror at the vivid dreams of his +disordered mind. Pacing ceaselessly from window to window, crack to +crack, when the moon came up, Mr. Connors scanned the bare, level +plain with anxious eyes, searching out the few covers and looking for +dark spots on the dull gray sand. They never attacked at night, but +still--. Through the void came the quavering call of a coyote, and he +listened for the reply, which soon came from the black chaparral +across the clearing. He knew where two of them were hiding, anyhow. +Holden was muttering and tried to answer the calls, and Red looked at +him for the hundredth time that night. He glanced out of the window +again and noticed that there was a glow in the eastern sky, and +shortly afterwards dawn swiftly developed. + +Pouring the last few drops of the precious water between the wounded +man's parched and swollen lips, he tossed the empty canteen from him +and stood erect. + +"Pore devil," he muttered, shaking his head sorrowfully, as he +realized that Holden's delirium was getting worse all the time. "If +you was all right we could give them wolves hell to dance to. Well, +you won't know nothing about it if we go under, an' that's some +consolation." He examined his rifle and saw that the Colt at his thigh +was fully loaded and in good working order. "An' they'll pay us for +their victory, by God! They'll pay for it!" He stepped closer to the +window, throwing the rifle into the hollow of his arm. "It's about +time for the rush; about time for the game--" + +There was movement by that small chaparral to the south! To the east +something stirred into bounding life and action; a coyote called twice +--and then they came, on foot and silently as fleeting shadows, +leaning forward to bring into play every ounce of energy in the slim, +red legs. Smoke filled the room with its acrid sting. The crashing of +the Winchester, worked with wonderful speed and deadly accuracy by the +best rifle shot in the Southwest, brought the prostrate man to his +feet in an instinctive response to the call to action, the necessity +of defence. He grasped his Colt and stumbled blindly to a window to +help the man who had stayed with him. + +On Red's side of the house one warrior threw up his arms and fell +forward, sprawling with arms and legs extended; another pitched to one +side and rolled over twice before he lay still; the legs of the third +collapsed and threw him headlong, bunched up in a grotesque pile of +lifeless flesh; the fourth leaped high into the air and turned a +somersault before he struck the sand, badly wounded, and out of the +fight. Holden, steadying himself against the wall, leaned in a window +on the other side of the shack and emptied his Colt in a dazed manner +--doing his very best. Then the man with the rifle staggered back with +a muttered curse, his right arm useless, and dropped the weapon to +draw his Colt with the other hand. + +Holden shrieked once and sank down, wagging his head slowly from side +to side, blood oozing from his mouth and nostrils; and his companion, +goaded into a frenzy of blood-lust and insane rage at the sight, threw +himself against the door and out into the open, to die under the clear +sky, to go like the man he was if he must die. "Damn you! It'll cost +you more yet!" he screamed, wheeling to place his back against the +wall. + +The triumphant yells of the exultant savages were cut short and turned +to howls of dismay by a fusillade which thundered from the south where +a crowd of hard-riding, hard-shooting cow-punchers tore out of the +thicket like an avalanche and swept over the open sand, yelling and +cursing, and then separated to go in hot pursuit of the sprinting +Apaches. Some stood up in their stirrups and fired down at a slant, +making a short, chopping motion with their heavy Colts; others leaned +forward, far over the necks of their horses, and shot with stationary +guns; while yet others, with reins dangling free, worked the levers of +blue Winchesters so rapidly that the flashes seemed to merge into a +continuous flame. + +"Thank God! Thank God--an' Hoppy!" groaned the man at the door of the +shack, staggering forward to meet the two men who had lost no time in +pursuit of the enemy, but had ridden straight to him. + +"I was scared stiff you was done fer!" cried Hopalong, leaping off his +horse and shaking hands with his friend, whose hand-clasp was not as +strong as usual. "How's Holden?" he demanded, anxiously. + +"He passed. It was a close--" began Red, weakly, but his foreman +interposed. + +"Shut up, an' drink this!" ordered Buck, kindly but sternly. "We'll do +the talking for a while; you can tell us all about it later on. Why, +/hullo/!" he cried as Lanky Smith and his two happy companions rode +up. "Reckon you must 'a' got them pickets." + +"Shore we did! Stalked 'em on our bellies, didn't we, Skinny?" +modestly replied Mr. Smith, the roping expert of the Bar-20. "Ropes +an' clubbed guns did the rest. Anyhow, there was only two anywhere +near the trail." + +"We didn't see you," responded the foreman, tying the knot of a +bandage on Mr. Connors' arm. "An' we looked sharp, too." + +"Reckon we was hunting for more; we sort of forgot what you said about +waiting for you," Mr. Smith replied, grinning broadly. + +"An' you've got a good memory now," smiled Mr. Peters. + +"We didn't find no more, though," offered Mr. Pete Wilson, with grave +regret. "An' we looked good, too. But we got Red, an' that's the whole +game. Red, you old son-of-a-gun, you can lick yore weight in powder!" + +"It's too bad about Holden," muttered Red, sullenly. + + + + CHAPTER XI + + HOPALONG NURSES A GROUCH + +After the excitement incident to the affair at Powers' shack had died +down and the Bar-20 outfit worked over its range in the old, placid +way, there began to be heard low mutterings, and an air of peevish +discontent began to be manifested in various childish ways. And it was +all caused by the fact that Hopalong Cassidy had a grouch, and a big +one. It was two months old and growing worse daily, and the signs +threatened contagion. His foreman, tired and sick of the snarling, +fidgety, petulant atmosphere that Hopalong had created on the ranch, +and driven to desperation, eagerly sought some chance to get rid of +the "sore-thumb" temporarily and give him an opportunity to shed his +generous mantle of the blues. And at last it came. + +No one knew the cause for Hoppy's unusual state of mind, although +there were many conjectures, and they covered the field rather +thoroughly; but they did not strike on the cause. Even Red Connors, +now well over all ill effects of the wounds acquired in the old ranch +house, was forced to guess; and when Red had to do that about anything +concerning Hopalong he was well warranted in believing the matter to +be very serious. + +Johnny Nelson made no secret of his opinion and derived from it a +great amount of satisfaction, which he admitted with a grin to his +foreman. + +"Buck," he said, "Hoppy told me he went broke playing poker over in +Grant with Dave Wilkes and them two Lawrence boys, an' that shore +explains it all. He's got pack sores from carrying his unholy licking. +It was due to come for him, an' Dave Wilkes is just the boy to deliver +it. That's the whole trouble, an' I know it, an' I'm damned glad they +trimmed him. But he ain't got no right of making /us/ miserable +because he lost a few measly dollars." + +"Yo're wrong, son; dead, dead wrong," Buck replied. "He takes his +beatings with a grin, an' money never did bother him. No poker game +that ever was played could leave a welt on him like the one we all +mourn, an' cuss. He's been doing something that he don't want us to +know--made a fool of hisself some way, most likely, an' feels so +ashamed that he's sore. I've knowed him too long an' well to believe +that gambling had anything to do with it. But this little trip he's +taking will fix him up all right, an' I couldn't 'a' picked a better +man--or one that I'd rather get rid of just now." + +"Well, lemme tell you it's blamed lucky for him that you picked him to +go," rejoined Johnny, who thought more of the woeful absentee than he +did of his own skin. "I was going to lick him, shore, if it went on +much longer. Me an' Red an' Billy was going to beat him up good till +he forgot his dead injuries an' took more interest in his friends." + +Buck laughed heartily. "Well, the three of you might 'a' done it if +you worked hard an' didn't get careless, but I have my doubts. Now +look here--you've been hanging around the bunk house too blamed much +lately. Henceforth an' hereafter you've got to earn your grub. Get out +on that west line an' hustle." + +"You know I've had a toothache!" snorted Johnny with a show of +indignation, his face as sober as that of a judge. + +"An' you'll have a stomach ache from lack of grub if you don't earn +yore right to eat purty soon," retorted Buck. "You ain't had a +toothache in yore whole life, an' you don't know what one is. G'wan, +now, or I'll give you a backache that'll ache!" + +"Huh! Devil of a way to treat a sick man!" Johnny retorted, but he +departed exultantly, whistling with much noise and no music. But he +was sorry for one thing: he sincerely regretted that he had not been +present when Hopalong met his Waterloo. It would have been pleasing to +look upon. + +While the outfit blessed the proposed lease of range that took him out +of their small circle for a time, Hopalong rode farther and farther +into the northwest, frequently lost in abstraction which, judging by +its effect upon him, must have been caused by something serious. He +had not heard from Dave Wilkes about that individual's good horse +which had been loaned to Ben Ferris, of Winchester. Did Dave think he +had been killed or was still pursuing the man whose neck-kerchief had +aroused such animosity in Hopalong's heart? Or had the horse actually +been returned? The animal was a good one, a successful contender in +all distances from one to five miles, and had earned its owner and +backers much money--and Hopalong had parted with it as easily as he +would have borrowed five dollars from Red. The story, as he had often +reflected since, was as old as lying--a broken-legged horse, a wife +dying forty miles away, and a horse all saddled which needed only to +be mounted and ridden. + +These thoughts kept him company for a day and when he dismounted +before Stevenson's "Hotel" in Hoyt's Corners he summed up his feelings +for the enlightenment of his horse. + +"Damn it, bronc! I'd give ten dollars right now to know if I was a +jackass or not," he growled. "But he was an awful slick talker if he +lied. An' I've got to go up an' face Dave Wilkes to find out about +it!" + +Mr. Cassidy was not known by sight to the citizens of Hoyt's Corners, +however well versed they might be in his numerous exploits of wisdom +and folly. Therefore the habitues of Stevenson's Hotel did not +recognize him in the gloomy and morose individual who dropped his +saddle on the floor with a crash and stamped over to the three-legged +table at dusk and surlily demanded shelter for the night. + +"Gimme a bed an' something to eat," he demanded, eyeing the three men +seated with their chairs tilted against the wall. "Do I get 'em?" he +asked, impatiently. + +"You do," replied a one-eyed man, lazily arising and approaching him. +"One dollar, now." + +"An' take the rocks outen that bed--I want to sleep." + +"A dollar per for every rock you find," grinned Stevenson, pleasantly. +"There ain't no rocks in /my/ beds," he added. + +"Some folks likes to be rocked to sleep," facetiously remarked one of +the pair by the wall, laughing contentedly at his own pun. He bore all +the ear-marks of being regarded as the wit of the locality--every +hamlet has one; I have seen some myself. + +"Hee, hee, hee! Yo're a droll feller, Charley," chuckled Old John +Ferris, rubbing his ear with unconcealed delight. "That's a good un." + +"One drink, now," growled Hopalong, mimicking the proprietor, and +glaring savagely at the "droll feller" and his companion. "An' mind +that it's a good one," he admonished the host. + +"It's better," smiled Stevenson, whereat Old John crossed his legs and +chuckled again. Stevenson winked. + +"Riding long?" he asked. + +"Since I started." + +"Going fur?" + +"Till I stop." + +"Where do you belong?" Stevenson's pique was urging him against the +ethics of the range, which forbade personal questions. + +Hopalong looked at him with a light in his eye that told the host he +had gone too far. "Under my sombrero!" he snapped. + +"Hee, hee, hee!" chortled Old John, rubbing his ear again and nudging +Charley. "He ain't no fool, hey?" + +"Why, I don't know, John; he won't tell," replied Charley. + +Hopalong wheeled and glared at him, and Charley, smiling uneasily, +made an appeal: "Ain't mad, are you?" + +"Not yet," and Hopalong turned to the bar again, took up his liquor +and tossed it off. Considering a moment he shoved the glass back +again, while Old John tongued his lips in anticipation of a treat. "It +is good--fill it again." + +The third was even better and by the time the fourth and fifth had +joined their predecessors Hopalong began to feel a little more +cheerful. But even the liquor and an exceptionally well-cooked supper +could not separate him from his persistent and set grouch. And of +liquor he had already taken more than his limit. He had always +boasted, with truth, that he had never been drunk, although there had +been two occasions when he was not far from it. That was one doubtful +luxury which he could not afford for the reason that there were men +who would have been glad to see him, if only for a few seconds, when +liquor had dulled his brain and slowed his speed of hand. He could +never tell when and where he might meet one of these. + +He dropped into a chair by a card table and, baffling all attempts to +engage him in conversation, reviewed his troubles in a mumbled +soliloquy, the liquor gradually making him careless. But of all the +jumbled words his companions' diligent ears heard they recognized and +retained only the bare term "Winchester"; and their conjectures were +limited only by their imaginations. + +Hopalong stirred and looked up, shaking off the hand which had aroused +him. "Better go to bed, stranger," the proprietor was saying. "You an' +me are the last two up. It's after twelve, an' you look tired and +sleepy." + +"Said his wife was sick," muttered the puncher. "Oh, what you saying?" + +"You'll find a bed better'n this table, stranger--it's after twelve +an' I want to close up an' get some sleep. I'm tired myself." + +"Oh, that all? Shore I'll go to bed--like to see anybody stop me! +Ain't no rocks in it, hey?" + +"Nary a rock," laughingly reassured the host, picking up Hopalong's +saddle and leading the way to a small room off the "office," his guest +stumbling after him and growling about the rocks that lived in +Winchester. When Stevenson had dropped the saddle by the window and +departed, Hopalong sat on the edge of the bed to close his eyes for +just a moment before tackling the labor of removing his clothes. A +crash and a jar awakened him and he found himself on the floor with +his back to the bed. He was hot and his head ached, and his back was +skinned a little--and how hot and stuffy and choking the room had +become! He thought he had blown out the light, but it still burned, +and three-quarters of the chimney was thickly covered with soot. He +was stifling and could not endure it any longer. After three attempts +he put out the light, stumbled against his saddle and, opening the +window, leaned out to breathe the pure air. As his lungs filled he +chuckled wisely and, picking up the saddle, managed to get it and +himself through the window and on the ground without serious mishap. +He would ride for an hour, give the room time to freshen and cool off, +and come back feeling much better. Not a star could be seen as he +groped his way unsteadily towards the rear of the building, where he +vaguely remembered having seen the corral as he rode up. + +"Huh! Said he lived in Winchester an' his name was Bill--no, Ben +Ferris," he muttered, stumbling towards a noise he knew was made by a +horse rubbing against the corral fence. Then his feet got tangled up +in the cinch of his saddle, which he had kicked before him, and after +great labor he arose, muttering savagely, and continued on his wobbly +way. "Goo' Lord, it's darker'n cats in--/oof/!" he grunted, recoiling +from forcible contact with the fence he sought. Growling words unholy +he felt his way along it and finally his arm slipped through an +opening and he bumped his head solidly against the top bar of the +gate. As he righted himself his hand struck the nose of a horse and +closed mechanically over it. Cow-ponies look alike in the dark and he +grinned jubilantly as he complimented himself upon finding his own so +unerringly. + +"Anything is easy, when you know how. Can't fool me, ol' cayuse," he +beamed, fumbling at the bars with his free hand and getting them down +with a fool's luck. "You can't do it--I got you firs', las', an' +always; an' I got you good. Yessir, I got you good. Quit that rearing, +you ol' fool! Stan' still, can't you?" The pony sidled as the saddle +hit its back and evoked profane abuse from the indignant puncher as he +risked his balance in picking it up to try again, this time +successfully. He began to fasten the girth, and then paused in wonder +and thought deeply, for the pin in the buckle would slide to no hole +but the first. "Huh! Getting fat, ain't you, piebald?" he demanded +with withering sarcasm. "You blow yoreself up any more'n I'll bust you +wide open!" heaving up with all his might on the free end of the +strap, one knee pushing against the animal's side. The "fat" +disappeared and Hopalong laughed. "Been learnin' new tricks, ain't +you? Got smart since you been travellin', hey?" He fumbled with the +bars again and got two of them back in place and then, throwing +himself across the saddle as the horse started forward as hard as it +could go, slipped off, but managed to save himself by hopping along +the ground. As soon as he had secured the grip he wished he mounted +with the ease of habit and felt for the reins. "G'wan now, an' easy-- +it's plumb dark an' my head's bustin'." + +When he saddled his mount at the corral he was not aware that two of +the three remaining horses had taken advantage of their opportunity +and had walked out and made off in the darkness before he replaced the +bars, and he was too drunk to care if he had known it. + +The night air felt so good that it moved him to song, but it was not +long before the words faltered more and more and soon ceased +altogether and a subdued snore rasped from him. He awakened from time +to time, but only for a moment, for he was tired and sleepy. + +His mount very quickly learned that something was wrong and that it +was being given its head. As long as it could go where it pleased it +could do nothing better than head for home, and it quickened its pace +towards Winchester. Some time after daylight it pricked up its ears +and broke into a canter, which soon developed signs of irritation in +its rider. Finally Hopalong opened his heavy eyes and looked around +for his bearings. Not knowing where he was and too tired and miserable +to give much thought to a matter of such slight importance, he glanced +around for a place to finish his sleep. A tree some distance ahead of +him looked inviting and towards it he rode. Habit made him picket the +horse before he lay down and as he fell asleep he had vague +recollections of handling a strange picket rope some time recently. +The horse slowly turned and stared at the already snoring figure, +glanced over the landscape, back the to queerest man it had ever met, +and then fell to grazing in quiet content. A slinking coyote topped a +rise a short distance away and stopped instantly, regarding the +sleeping man with grave curiosity and strong suspicion. Deciding that +there was nothing good to eat in that vicinity and that the man was +carrying out a fell plot for the death of coyotes, it backed away out +of sight and loped on to other hunting grounds. + + + + CHAPTER XII + + A FRIEND IN NEED + +Stevenson, having started the fire for breakfast, took a pail and +departed towards the spring; but he got no farther than the corral +gate, where he dropped the pail and stared. There was only one horse +in the enclosure where the night before there had been four. He wasted +no time in surmises, but wheeled and dashed back towards the hotel, +and his vigorous shouts brought Old John to the door, sleepy and +peevish. Old John's mouth dropped open as he beheld his habitually +indolent host marking off long distances on the sand with each falling +foot. + +"What's got inter you?" demanded Old John. + +"Our broncs are gone! Our broncs are gone!" yelled Stevenson, shoving +Old John roughly to one side as he dashed through the doorway and on +into the room he had assigned to the sullen and bibulous stranger. "I +knowed it! I knowed it!" he wailed, popping out again as if on +springs. "He's gone, an' he's took our broncs with him, the measly, +low-down dog! I knowed he wasn't no good! I could see it in his eye; +an' he wasn't drunk, not by a darn sight. Go out an' see for yoreself +if they ain't gone!" he snapped in reply to Old John's look. "Go on +out, while I throw some cold grub on the table--won't have no time +this morning to do no cooking. He's got five hours' start on us, an' +it'll take some right smart riding to get him before dark; but we'll +do it, an' hang him, too!" + +"What's all this here rumpus?" demanded a sleepy voice from upstairs. +"Who's hanged?" and Charley entered the room, very much interested. +His interest increased remarkably when the calamity was made known and +he lost no time in joining Old John in the corral to verify the news. + +Old John waved his hands over the scene and carefully explained what +he had read in the tracks, to his companion's great irritation, for +Charley's keen eyes and good training had already told him all there +was to learn; and his reading did not exactly agree with that of his +companion. + +"Charley, he's gone and took our cayuses; an' that's the very way he +came--'round the corner of the hotel. He got all tangled up an' fell +over there, an' here he bumped inter the palisade, an' dropped his +saddle. When he opened the bars he took my roan gelding because it was +the best an' fastest, an' then he let out the others to mix us up on +the tracks. See how he went? Had to hop four times on one foot afore +he could get inter the saddle. An' that proves he was sober, for no +drunk could hop four times like that without falling down an' being +drug to death. An' he left his own critter behind because he knowed it +wasn't no good. It's all as plain as the nose on your face, Charley," +and Old John proudly rubbed his ear. "Hee, hee, hee! You can't fool +Old John, even if he is getting old. No, sir, b' gum." + +Charley had just returned from inside the corral, where he had looked +at the brand on the far side of the one horse left, and he waited +impatiently for his companion to cease talking. He took quick +advantage of the first pause Old John made and spoke crisply. + +"I don't care what corner he came 'round, or what he bumped inter; an' +any fool can see that. An' if he left that cayuse behind because he +thought it wasn't no good, he /was/ drunk. That's a Bar-20 cayuse, an' +no hoss-thief ever worked for that ranch. He left it behind because he +stole it; that's why. An' he didn't let them others out because he +wanted to mix us up, neither. How'd he know if we couldn't tell the +tracks of our own animals? He did that to make us lose time; that's +what he did it for. An' he couldn't tell what bronc he took last +night--it was too dark. He must 'a' struck a match an' seen where that +Bar-20 cayuse was an' then took the first one nearest that wasn't it. +An' now you tell me how the devil he knowed yourn was the fastest, +which it ain't," he finished, sarcastically, gloating over a chance to +rub it into the man he had always regarded as a windy old nuisance. + +"Well, mebby what you said is--" + +"Mebby nothing!" snapped Charley. "If he wanted to mix the tracks +would he 'a' hopped like that so we couldn't help telling what cayuse +he rode? He knowed we'd pick his trail quick, an' he knowed that every +minute counted; that's why he hopped--why, yore roan was going like +the wind afore he got in the saddle. If you don't believe it, look at +them toe-prints!" + +"H'm; reckon yo're right, Charley. My eyes ain't nigh as good as they +once was. But I heard him say something 'bout Winchester," replied Old +John, glad to change the subject. "Bet he's going over there, too. He +won't get through that town on no critter wearing my brand. Everybody +knows that roan, an'--" + +"Quit guessing!" snapped Charley, beginning to lose some of the +tattered remnant of his respect for old age. "He's a whole lot likely +to head for a town on a stolen cayuse, now ain't he! But we don't care +where he's heading; we'll foller the trail." + +"Grub pile!" shouted Stevenson, and the two made haste to obey. + +"Charley, gimme a chaw of yore tobacker," and Old John, biting off a +generous chunk, quietly slipped it into his pocket, there to lay until +after he had eaten his breakfast. + +All talk was tabled while the three men gulped down a cold and +uninviting meal. Ten minutes later they had finished and separated to +find horses and spread the news; in fifteen more they had them and +were riding along the plain trail at top speed, with three other men +close at their heels. Three hundred yards from the corral they pounded +out of an arroyo, and Charley, who was leading, stood up in his +stirrups and looked keenly ahead. Another trail joined the one they +were following and ran with and on top of it. This, he reasoned, had +been made by one of the strays and would turn away soon. He kept his +eyes looking well ahead and soon saw that he was right in his surmise, +and without checking the speed of his horse in the slightest degree he +went ahead on the trail of the smaller hoof-prints. In a moment Old +John spurred forward and gained his side and began to argue hot- +headedly. + +"Hey! Charley!" he cried. "Why are you follering this track?" he +demanded. + +"Because it's his; that's why." + +"Well, here, wait a minute!" and Old John was getting red from +excitement. "How do you know it is? Mebby he took the other!" + +"He started out on the cayuse that made these little tracks," retorted +Charley, "an' I don't see no reason to think he swapped animules. +Don't you know the prints of yore own cayuse?" + +"Lawd, no!" answered Old John. "Why, I don't hardly ride the same +cayuse the second day, straight hand-running. I tell you we ought to +foller that other trail. He's just cute enough to play some trick on +us." + +"Well, you better do that for us," Charley replied, hoping against +hope that the old man would chase off on the other and give his +companions a rest. + +"He ain't got sand enough to tackle a thing like that single-handed," +laughed Jed White, winking to the others. + +Old John wheeled. "Ain't, hey! I am going to do that same thing an' +prove that you are a pack of fools. I'm too old to be fooled by a +common trick like that. An' I don't need no help--I'll ketch him all +by myself, an' hang him, too!" And he wheeled to follow the other +trail, angry and outraged. "Young fools," he muttered. "Why, I was +fighting all around these parts afore any of 'em knowed the difference +between day an' night!" + +"Hard-headed old fool," remarked Charley, frowning, as he led the way +again. + +"He's gittin' old an' childish," excused Stevenson. "They say warn't +nobody in these parts could hold a candle to him in his prime." + + + +Hopalong muttered and stirred and opened his eyes to gaze blankly into +those of one of the men who were tugging at his hands, and as he +stared he started his stupefied brain sluggishly to work in an +endeavor to explain the unusual experience. There were five men around +him and the two who hauled at his hands stepped back and kicked him. A +look of pained indignation slowly spread over his countenance as he +realized beyond doubt that they were really kicking him, and with +sturdy vigor. He considered a moment and then decided that such +treatment was most unwarranted and outrageous and, furthermore, that +he must defend himself and chastise the perpetrators. + +"Hey!" he snorted, "what do you reckon yo're doing, anyhow? If you +want to do any kicking, why kick each other, an' I'll help you! But +I'll lick the whole bunch of you if you don't quite mauling me. Ain't +you got no manners? Don't you know anything? Come 'round waking a +feller up an' man-handling--" + +"Get up!" snapped Stevenson, angrily. + +"Why, ain't I seen you before? Somewhere? Sometime?" queried Hopalong, +his brow wrinkling from intense concentration of thought. "I ain't +dreaming; I've seen a one-eyed coyote som'ers, lately, ain't I?" he +appealed, anxiously, to the others. + +"Get up!" ordered Charley, shortly. + +"An' I've seen you, too. Funny, all right." + +"You've seen me, all right," retorted Stevenson. "Get up, damn you! +Get up!" + +"Why, I can't--my han's are tied!" exclaimed Hopalong in great wonder, +pausing in his exertions to cogitate deeply upon this most remarkable +phenomenon. "Tied up! Now what the devil do you think--" + +"Use yore feet, you thief!" rejoined Stevenson roughly, stepping +forward and delivering another kick. "Use yore feet!" he reiterated. + +"Thief! Me a thief! Shore I'll use my feet, you yaller dog!" yelled +the prostrate man, and his boot heel sank into the stomach of the +offending Mr. Stevenson with sickening force and laudable precision. +He drew it back slowly, as if debating shoving it farther. "Call me a +thief, hey! Come poking 'round kicking honest punchers an' calling 'em +names! Anybody want the other boot?" he inquired with grave +solicitation. + +Stevenson sat down forcibly and rocked to and fro, doubled up and +gasping for breath, and Hopalong squinted at him and grinned with +happiness. "Hear him sing! Reg'lar ol' brass band. Sounds like a cow +pulling its hoofs outen the mud. Called me a thief, he did, just now. +An' I won't let nobody kick me an' call me names. He's a liar, just a +plain, squaw's dog liar, he--" + +Two men grabbed him and raised him up, holding him tightly, and they +were not over careful to handle him gently, which he naturally +resented. Charley stepped in front of him to go to the aid of +Stevenson and caught the other boot in his groin, dropping as if he +had been shot. The man on the prisoner's left emitted a yell and +loosed his hold to sympathize with a bruised shinbone, and his +companion promptly knocked the bound and still intoxicated man down. +Bill Thomas swore and eyed the prostrate figure with resentment and +regret. "Hate to hit a man who can fight like that when he's loaded +an' tied. I'm glad, all the same, that he ain't sober an' loose." + +"An' you ain't going to hit him no more!" snapped Jed White, reddening +with anger. "I'm ready to hang him, 'cause that's what he deserves, +an' what we're here for, but I'm damned if I'll stand for any more +mauling. I don't blame him for fighting, an' they didn't have no right +to kick him in the beginning." + +"Didn't kick him in the beginning," grinned Bill. "Kicked him in the +ending. Anyhow," he continued seriously, "I didn't hit him hard-- +didn't have to. Just let him go an' shoved him quick." + +"I'm just naturally going to clean house," muttered the prisoner, +sitting up and glaring around. "Untie my han's an' gimme a gun or a +club or anything, an' watch yoreselves get licked. Called me a thief! +What are you fellers, then?--sticking me up an' busting me for a few +measly dollars. Why didn't you take my money an' lemme sleep, 'stead +of waking me up an' kicking me? I wouldn't 'a' cared then." + +"Come on, now; get up. We ain't through with you yet, not by a whole +lot," growled Bill, helping him to his feet and steadying him. "I'm +plumb glad you kicked 'em; it was coming to 'em." + +"No, you ain't; you can't fool me," gravely assured Hopalong. "Yo're +lying, an' you know it. What you going to do now? Ain't I got money +enough? Wish I had an even break with you fellers! Wish my outfit was +here!" + +Stevenson, on his feet again, walked painfully up and shook his fist +at the captive, from the side. "You'll find out what we want of you, +you damned hoss-thief!" he cried. "We're going to tie you to that +there limb so yore feet'll swing above the grass, that's what we're +going to do." + +Bill and Jed had their hands full for a moment and as they finally +mastered the puncher, Charley came up with a rope. "Hurry up--no use +dragging it out this way. I want to get back to the ranch some time +before next week." + +"Why /I/ ain't no hoss-thief, you liar!" Hopalong yelled. "My name's +Hopalong Cassidy of the Bar-20, an' when I tell my friends about what +you've gone an' done they'll make you hard to find! You gimme any kind +of a chance an' I'll do it all by myself, sick as I am, you yaller +dogs!" + +"Is that yore cayuse?" demanded Charley, pointing. + +Hopalong squinted towards the animal indicated. "Which one?" + +"There's only one there, you fool!" + +"That so?" replied Hopalong, surprised. "Well, I never seen it afore. +My cayuse is--is--where the devil /is/ it?" he asked, looking around +anxiously. + +"How'd you get that one, then, if it ain't yours?" + +"Never had it--'t ain't mine, nohow," replied Hopalong, with strong +conviction. "Mine was a /hoss/." + +"You stole that cayuse last night outen Stevenson's corral," continued +Charley, merely as a matter of form. Charley believed that a man had +the right to be heard before he died--it wouldn't change the result +and so could not do any harm. + +"Did I? Why--" his forehead became furrowed again, but the events of +the night before were vague in his memory and he only stumbled in his +soliloquy. "But /I/ wouldn't swap my cayuse for that spavined, saddle- +galled, ring-boned bone-yard! Why, it interferes, an' it's got the +heaves something awful!" he finished triumphantly, as if an appeal to +common sense would clinch things. But he made no headway against them, +for the rope went around his neck almost before he had finished +talking and a flurry of excitement ensued. When the dust settled he +was on his back again and the rope was being tossed over the limb. + +The crowd had been too busily occupied to notice anything away from +the scene of their strife and were greatly surprised when they heard a +hail and saw a stranger sliding to a stand not twenty feet from them. +"What's this?" demanded the newcomer, angrily. + +Charley's gun glinted as it swung up and the stranger swore again. +"What you doing?" he shouted. "Take that gun off'n me or I'll blow you +apart!" + +"Mind yore business an' sit still!" Charley snapped. "You ain't in no +position to blow anything apart. We've got a hoss-thief an' we're +shore going to hang him regardless." + +"An' if there's any trouble about it we can hang two as well as we can +one," suggested Stevenson, placidly. "You sit tight an' mind yore own +affairs, stranger," he warned. + +Hopalong turned his head slowly. "He's a liar, stranger; just a plain, +squaw's dog of a liar. An' I'll be much obliged if you'll lick hell +outen 'em an' let--/why, hullo, hoss-thief/!" he shouted, at once +recognizing the other. It was the man he had met in the gospel tent, +the man he had chased for a horse-thief and then swapped mounts with. +"Stole any more cayuses?" he asked, grinning, believing that +everything was all right now. "Did you take that cayuse back to +Grant?" he finished. + +"Han's up!" roared Stevenson, also covering the stranger. "So yo're +another one of 'em, hey? We're in luck to-day. Watch him, boys, till I +get his gun. If he moves, drop him quick." + +"You damned fool!" cried Ferris, white with rage. "He ain't no thief, +an' neither am I! My name's Ben Ferris an' I live in Winchester. Why, +that man you've got is Hopalong Cassidy--Cassidy, of the Bar-20!" + +"Sit still--you can talk later, mebby," replied Stevenson, warily +approaching him. "Watch him, boys!" + +"Hold on!" shouted Ferris, murder in his eyes. "Don't you try that on +me! I'll get one of you before I go; I'll shore get one! You can +listen a minute, an' I can't get away." + +"All right; talk quick." + +Ferris pleaded as hard as he knew how and called attention to the +condition of the prisoner. "If he did take the wrong cayuse he was too +blind drunk to know it! Can't you /see/ he was!" he cried. + +"Yep; through yet?" asked Stevenson, quietly. + +"No! I ain't started yet!" Ferris yelled. "He did me a good turn once, +one that I can't never repay, an' I'm going to stop this murder or go +with him. If I go I'll take one of you with me, an' my friends an' +outfit'll get the rest." + +"Wait till Old John gets here," suggested Jed to Charley. "He ought to +know this feller." + +"For the Lord's sake!" snorted Charley. "He won't show up for a week. +Did you hear that, fellers?" he laughed, turning to the others. + +"Stranger," began Stevenson, moving slowly ahead again. "You give us +yore guns an' sit quiet till we gets this feller out of the way. We'll +wait till Old John Ferris comes before doing anything with you. He +ought to know you." + +"He knows me all right; an' he'd like to see me hung," replied the +stranger. "I won't give up my guns, an' you won't lynch Hopalong +Cassidy while I can pull a trigger. That's flat!" He began to talk +feverishly to gain time and his eyes lighted suddenly. Seeing that Jed +White was wavering, Stevenson ordered them to go on with the work they +had come to perform, and he watched Ferris as a cat watches a mouse, +knowing that he would be the first man hit if the stranger got a +chance to shoot. But Ferris stood up very slowly in his stirrups so as +not to alarm the five with any quick movement, and shouted at the top +of his voice, grabbing off his sombrero and waving it frantically. A +faint cheer reached his ears and made the lynchers turn quickly and +look behind them. Nine men were tearing towards them at a dead gallop +and had already begun to forsake their bunched-up formation in favor +of an extended line. They were due to arrive in a very few minutes and +caused Mr. Ferris' heart to overflow with joy. + +"Me an' my outfit," he said, laughing softly and waving his hand +towards the newcomers, "started out this morning to round up a bunch +of cows, an' we got jackasses instead. Now lynch him, damn you!" + +The nine swept up in skirmish order, guns out and ready for anything +in the nature of trouble that might zephyr up. "What's the matter, +Ben?" asked Tom Murphy ominously. As under-foreman of the ranch he +regarded himself as spokesman. And at that instant catching sight of +the rope, he swore savagely under his breath. + +"Nothing, Tom; nothing now," responded Mr. Ferris. "They was going to +hang my friend there, Mr. Hopalong Cassidy, of the Bar-20. He's the +feller that lent me his cayuse to get home on when Molly was sick. I'm +going to take him back to the ranch when he gets sober an' introduce +him to some very good friends of hissn that he ain't never seen. Ain't +I, Cassidy?" he demanded with a laugh. + +But Mr. Cassidy made no reply. He was sound asleep, as he had been +since the advent of his very good and capable friend, Mr. Ben Ferris, +of Winchester. + + + + CHAPTER XIII + + MR. TOWNSEND, MARSHAL + +Mr. Cassidy went to the ranch and lived like a lord until shame drove +him away. He had no business to live on cake and pie and wonderful +dishes that Mrs. Ferris and her sister literally forced on him, and +let Buck's mission wait on his convenience. So he tore himself away +and made up for lost time as he continued his journey on his own +horse, for which Tom Murphy and three men had faced down the scowling +population of Hoyt's Corners. The rest of his journey was without +incident until, on his return home along another route, he rode into +Rawhide and heard about the marshal, Mr. Townsend. + +This individual was unanimously regarded as an affliction upon society +and there had been objections to his continued existence, which had +been overruled by the object himself. Then word had gone forth that a +substantial reward and the undying gratitude of a considerable number +of people awaited the man who would rid the community of the pest who +seemed to be ubiquitous. Several had come in response to the call, one +had returned in a wagon, and the others were now looked upon as +martyrs, and as examples of asinine foolhardiness. Then it had been +decided to elect a marshal, or perhaps two or three, to preserve the +peace of the town; but this was a flat failure. In the first place, +Mr. Townsend had dispersed the meeting with no date set for a new one; +in the second, no man wanted the office; and as a finish to the +comedy, Mr. Townsend cheerfully announced that hereafter and +henceforth he was the marshal, self-appointed and self-sustained. +Those who did not like it could easily move to other localities. + +With this touch of office-holding came ambition, and of stern stuff. +The marshal asked himself why he could not be more officers than one +and found no reason. Thereupon he announced that he was marshal, town +council, mayor, justice, and pound-keeper. He did not go to the +trouble of incorporating himself as the Town of Rawhide, because he +knew nothing of such immaterial things; but he was the town, and that +sufficed. + +He had been grievously troubled about finances in the past, and he +firmly believed that genius such as his should be above such petty +annoyances as being "broke." That was why he constituted himself the +keeper of the public pound, which contented him for a short time, but +later, feeling that he needed more money than the pound was giving +him, he decided that the spirit of the times demanded public +improvements, and therefore, as the executive head of the town, he +levied taxes and improved the town by improving his wardrobe and the +manner of his living. Each saloon must pay into the town treasury the +sum of one hundred dollars per year, which entitled it to police +protection and assured it that no new competitors would be allowed to +do business in Rawhide. + +Needless to say he was not furiously popular, and the crowds +congregated where he was not. His tyranny was based upon his uncanny +faculty of anticipating the other man's draw. The citizens were not +unaccustomed to seeing swift death result to the slower man from +misplaced confidence in his speed of hand--that was in the game--an +even break; but to oppose an individual who /always/ knew what you +were going to do before you knew it yourself--this was very +discouraging. Therefore, he flourished and waxed fat. + +Of late, however, he had been very low in finances and could expect no +taxes to be paid for three months. Even the pound had yielded him +nothing for over a week, the old patrons of Rawhide's stores and +saloons preferring to ride twenty miles farther in another direction +than to redeem impounded horses. Perhaps his prices had been too high, +he thought; so he assembled the town council, the mayor, the marshal, +and the keeper of the public pound to consult upon the matter. He +decided that the prices were too high and at once posted a new notice +announcing the cut. It was hard to fall from a dollar to "two bits," +but the treasury was low--the times were panicky. + +As soon as he had changed the notice he strolled up to the Paradise to +inform the bartender that impounding fines had been cut to bargain +prices and to ask him to make the fact generally known through his +patrons. As he came within sight of the building he jumped with +pleasure, for a horse was standing dejectedly before the door. Joy of +joys, trade was picking up--a stranger had come to town! Hastening +back to the corral, he added a cipher to the posted figure, added a +decimal point, and changed the cents sign to that of a dollar. Two +dollars and fifty cents was now the price prescribed by law. Returning +hastily to the Paradise, he led the animal away, impounded it, and +then sat down in front of the corral gate with his Winchester across +his knees. Two dollars and fifty cents! Prosperity had indeed +returned! + +"Where the CG ranch is I dunno, but I do know where one of their +cayuses is," he mused, glancing between two of the corral posts at the +sleepy animal. "If I has to auction it off to pay for its keep and the +fine, the saddle will bring a good, round sum. I allus knowed that a +dollar wasn't enough, nohow." + +Nat Fisher, punching cows for the CG and tired of his job, leaned +comfortably back in his chair in the Paradise and swapped lies with +the all-wise bartender. After a while he realized that he was +hopelessly outclassed at this diversion and he dug down into his +pocket and brought to light some loose silver and regarded it +thoughtfully. It was all the money he had and was beginning to grow +interesting. + +"Say, was you ever broke?" he asked suddenly, a trace of sadness in +his voice. + +The bartender glanced at him quickly, but remained judiciously silent, +smelling the preamble of an attempt to "touch." + +"Well, I have been, am now, an' allus will be, more or less," +continued Fisher, in soliloquy, not waiting for an answer to his +question. "Money an' me don't ride the same range, not any. Here I am +fifty miles away from my ranch, with four dollars and ninety-five +cents between me an' starvation an' thirst, an' me not going home for +three days yet. I was going to quit the CG this month, but now I gotta +go on working for it till another pay-day. I don't even own a cayuse. +Now, just to show you what kind of a prickly pear I am, I'll cut the +cards with you to see who owns this," he suggested, smiling brightly +at his companion. + +The bartender laughed, treated on the house, and shuffled out from +behind the bar with a pack of greasy playing cards. "All at once, or a +dollar a shot?" he asked, shuffling deftly. + +"Any way it suits you," responded Fisher, nonchalantly. He knew how a +sport should talk; and once he had cut the cards to see who should own +his full month's pay. He hoped he would be more successful this time. + +"Don't make no difference to me," rejoined the bartender. + +"All right; all at once, an' have it over with. It's a kid's game, at +that." + +"High wins, of course?" + +"High wins." + +The bartender pushed the cards across the table for his companion to +cut. Nat did so, and turned up a deuce. "Oh, don't bother," he said, +sliding the four dollars and ninety-five cents across the table. + +"Wait," grinned the bartender, who was a stickler for rules. He +reached over and turned up a card, and then laughed. "Matched, by +George!" + +"Try again," grinned Fisher, his face clearing with hope. + +The bartender shuffled, and Fisher turned a five, which proved to be +just one point shy when his companion had shown his card. + +"Now," remarked Fisher, watching his money disappear into the +bartender's pocket, "I'll put up my gun agin ten of yore dollars if +yo're game. How about it?" + +"Done--that's a good weapon." + +"None better. Ah, a jack!" + +"I say queen--nope, /king/!" exulted the dispenser of liquids. "Say, +mebby you can get a job around here when you quit the CG," he +suggested. + +"That's a good idea," replied Fisher. "But let's finish this while +we're at it. I got a good saddle outside on my cayuse--go look it over +an' tell me how much you'll put up agin it. If you win it an' can't +use it, you can sell it. It's first class." + +The bartender walked to the door, looked carefully around for a +moment, his eyes fastening upon a trail in the sandy street. Then he +laughed. "There ain't no saddle out here," he reported, well knowing +where it could be found. + +"What! Has that ornery piebald--well, what do you think of that!" +exclaimed Fisher, looking up and down the street. "This is the first +time that ever happened to me. Why, some coyote stole it! Look at the +tracks!" + +"No; it ain't stolen," the bartender responded. He considered a moment +and then made a suggestion. "Mebby the marshal can tell you where it +is--he knows everything like that. Nobody can take a cayuse out of +this town while the marshal is up an' well." + +"Lucky town, all right," chirped Fisher. "An' where is the marshal?" + +"You'll find him down the back way a couple of hundred yards; can't +miss him. He allus hangs out there when there are cayuses in town." + +"Good for him! I'll chase right down an' see him; an' when I get that +piebald----!" + +The bartender watched him go around the corner and shook his head +sadly. "Yes; hell of a lucky town," he snorted bitterly, listening for +the riot to begin. + +The marshal still sat against the corral gate and stroked the +Winchester in beatific contemplation. He had a fine job and he was +happy. Suddenly leaning forward to look up the road, he smiled +derisively and shifted the gun. A cow-puncher was coming his way +rapidly, and on foot. + +"Are you the marshal of this flea of a town?" politely inquired the +newcomer. + +"I am the same," replied the man with the rifle. "Anything I kin do +for you?" + +"Yes; have you seen a piebald cayuse straying around loose-like, or +anybody leading one--CG being the brand?" + +"I did; it was straying." + +"An' which way did it go?" + +"Into the town pound." + +"What! Pond! What'n blazes is it doing with a pond? Couldn't it drink +without getting in? Where's the pond?" + +"Right here. It's eating its fool head off. I said pound, not pond. +P-o-u-n-d; which means that it's pawned, in hock, for destroying the +vegetation of Rawhide, an' disturbing the public peace." + +"Good joke on the piebald, all right; it was never locked up before," +laughed Fisher, trying to read a sign that faced away from him at a +slight angle. "Get it out for me an' I'll disturb /its/ peace. Sorry +it put you to all that trouble," he sympathized. + +"Two dollars an' four bits, an' a dollar initiation fee--it wasn't +never in the pound before. That makes three an' a half. Got the money +with you?" + +"What!" yelled Fisher, emerging from his trance. "What!" he yelled +again. + +"I ain't none deaf," placidly replied the marshal. "Got the money, the +three an' a half?" + +"If you think yo're going to skin me outen three-fifty, one-fifty, or +one measly cent, you need some medicine, an' I'll give it to you in +pill form! You'd make a bum-looking angel, so get up an' hand over +that cayuse, /an' do it damned quick/!" + +"Three-fifty, an' two bits extry for feed. It'll cost you 'bout a +dollar a day for feed. At the end of the week I'll sell that cayuse at +auction to pay its bills if you don't cough up. Got the money?" + +"I've got a lead slug for you if I can borrow my gun for five +minutes!" retorted Fisher, seething double from anger. + +"Five dollars more for contempt of court," pleasantly responded Mr. +Townsend. "As Justice of the Peace of this community I must allow no +disrespect, no contempt of the sovereign law of this town to go +unpunished. That makes it eight-seventy-five." + +"An' to think I lost my gun!" shouted Fisher, dancing with rage. "I'll +get that cayuse out an' I won't pay a cent, not a damned cent! An' +I'll get you at the same time!" + +"Now you dust around for fifteen dollars even an' stop yore contempt +of court an' threats or I'll drill you just for luck!" rejoined Mr. +Townsend, angrily. "If you keep on working yore mouth like that there +won't be nothing coming to you when I sell that cayuse of yourn. Turn +around an' strike out or I'll put you with yore ancestors!" + + + + CHAPTER XIV + + THE STRANGER'S PLAN + +Fisher, wild with rage, returned to the Paradise and profanely +unfolded the tale of his burning wrongs to the bartender and demanded +the loan of his gun, which the bartender promptly refused. The present +owner of the gun liked Fisher very much for being such a sport and +sympathized with him deeply, but he did not want to have such a +pleasing acquaintance killed. + +"Now, see here: you cool down an' I'll lend you fifteen dollars on +that saddle of yourn. You go up an' get that cayuse out before the +price goes up any higher--you don't know that man like I do," remarked +the man behind the bar earnestly. "That feller Townsend can shoot the +eyes out of a small dog at ten miles, purty nigh. Do you savvy my +drift?" + +"I won't pay him a cussed cent, an' when he goes to sell that piebald +at auction, I'll be on hand with a gun; I'll get one somewhere, all +right, even if I have to steal it. Then I'll shoot out /his/ eyes at +ten paces. Why, he's a two-laigged hold-up! That man would--" he +stopped as a stranger entered the room. "Hey, stranger! Don't you +leave that cayuse of yourn outside all alone or that coyote of a +marshal will steal it, shore. He's the biggest thief I ever knowed. +He'll lift yore animal quick as a wink!" Fisher warned, excitedly. + +The stranger looked at him in surprise and then smiled. "Is it usual +for a marshal to steal cayuses? Somewhat out of line, ain't it?" he +asked Fisher, glancing at the bartender for light. + +"I don't care what's the rule--that marshal just stole my cayuse; an' +he'll take yourn, too, if you ain't careful," Fisher replied. + +"Well," drawled the stranger, smiling still more, "I reckon I ain't +going to stay out there an' watch it, an' I can't bring it in here. +But I reckon it'll be all right. You see, I carry 'big medicine' agin +hoss-thieves," he replied, tapping his holster and smiling as he +remembered the time, not long past, when he himself had been accused +of being one. "I'll take a chance if he will--what'll you all have?" + +"Little whiskey," replied Fisher, uneasily, worrying because he could +not stand for a return treat. "But, say; you keep yore eye on that +animal, just the same," he added, and then hurriedly gave his reasons. +"An' the worst part of the whole thing is that I ain't got no gun, an' +can't seem to borrow none, neither," he added, wistfully eyeing the +stranger's Colt. "I gambled mine away to the bartender here an' he +won't lemme borrow it for five minutes!" + +"Why, I never heard tell of such a thing before!" exclaimed the +stranger, hardly believing his ears, and aghast at the thought that +such conditions could exist. "Friend," he said, addressing the +bartender, "how is it that this sort of thing can go on in this town?" +When the bartender had explained at some length, his interested +listener smote the bar with a heavy fist and voiced his outraged +feelings. "I'll shore be plumb happy to spread that coyote marshal all +over his cussed pound! Say, come with me; I'm going down there right +now an' get that cayuse, an' if the marshal opens his mouth to peep +I'll get him, too. I'm itching for a chance to tunnel a man like him. +Come on an' see the show!" + +"Not much!" retorted Fisher. "While I am some pleased to meet a white +man, an' have a deep an' abiding gratitude for yore noble offer, I +can't let you do it. He put it over on me, an' I'm the one that's got +to shoot him up. He's mine, my pudding; an' I'm hogging him all to +myself. That is one luxury I can indulge in even if I am broke; an' +I'm sorry, but I can't give you cards. Seeing, however, as you are so +friendly to the cause of liberty an' justice, suppose you lend me yore +gun for about three minutes by the watch. From what I've been told +about this town such an act will win for you the eternal love an' +gratitude of a down-trodden people; yore gun will blaze the way to +liberty an' light, freedom an' the right to own yore own property, an' +keep it. All I ask is that I be the undeserving medium." + +"A-men," sighed the bartender. "Deacon Jones will now pass down the +aisle an' collect the buttons an' tin money." + +"Stranger," continued Fisher, warming up, when he saw that his words +had not produced the desired result, "King James the Twelfth, on the +memorable an' blood-soaked field of Trafalgar, gave men their rights. +On that great day he signed the Magnet Charter, and proved himself as +great a liberator as the sainted Lincoln. You, on this most auspicious +occasion, hold in yore strong hand the destiny of this town--the women +an' children in this cursed community will rise up an' bless you +forever an' pass yore name down to their ancestors as a man of deeds +an' honor! Let us pause to consider this--" + +"Hold that pause!" interrupted the astounded bartender hurriedly, and +with shaking voice. "String it out till I get untangled! I ain't up +much on history, so I won't take no chance with that; but I want to +tell our eloquent guest that there ain't no women /or/ children in +this town. An' if there was, I sort of reckon their ancestors would be +born first. What do you think about it--" + +"Let us pause to consider the shameful an' burning /indignity/ +perpetrated upon us to-day!" continued Fisher, unheeding the +bartender's words. "I, a peaceful, law-abiding /citizen/ of this +/glorious/ Commonwealth, a free an' /equal/ member of a liberty-loving +nation, a nation whose standard is, /now/ and forever, 'Gimme liberty +or gimme det', a /nation that stands for all the conceivable benefits +that mankind may enjoy, a /nation/ that scintillates pyrotechnically +over the prostitution of power--" + +/Bang!/ went the bartender's fist on the counter. "Hey! Pause again! +Wait a minute! Go back to 'shameful an' burning,' and gimme a chance!" + +"--that stands for an even break, I, Nathaniel G. Fisher, have been +deprived of one of my inalienable rights, the right of locomotion to +distant an' other parts. /An'/ I say, right here an' now, that I won't +allow no spavined individual with thieving prehensils to--" + +"Has that pound-keeper got a rifle?" calmly interrupted the stranger, +without a pang of remorse. + +"He has. Thus has it allus been with tyrants--well armed, fortified by +habit an' tradition--" + +"Then you won't get my gun, savvy? We'll find another way to get that +cayuse as long as you feel that the marshal is yore hunting. Besides, +this man's gall deserves some respect; it is genius, an' to pump +genius full of cold lead is to act rash. Now, suppose you tell me when +this auction is due to come off." + +"Oh, not for a week; he wants to run up the board an' keep expenses. +Tyrants, such as him--" + +"Shore," interposed the bartender, "he'll make the expenses equal what +he gets for the cayuse, no matter what it comes to. An' he's the whole +town, an' the justice of the peace, besides. What he says goes." + +"Well, I'm the Governor of the State an' I've got the Supreme Court +right here in my holster, so I reckon I can reverse his official acts +an' fill his legal opinions full of holes," the stranger replied, +laughing heartily. "Bartender, will you help me play a little joke on +His Honore, the Town,--just a little harmless joke?" + +"Well, that all depends whether the joke is harmless on /me/. You see, +he can shoot like the devil--he allus knows when a man is going to +draw, an' gets his gun out first. I ain't got no respect for him, but +I take off my hat to his gunplay, all right." + +The stranger smiled. "Well, I can shoot a bit myself. But I shore wish +he'd hold that auction quick--I've got to go on home without losing +any more time. Fisher, suppose you go down to the pound and dare that +tumble-bug to hold the auction this afternoon. Tell him that you'll +shoot him full of holes if he goes pulling off any auction to-day, an' +dare him to try it. I want it to come off before night, an' I reckon +that'll hustle it along." + +"I'll do anything to get the edge on that thief," replied Fisher, +quickly, "but don't you reckon I'd better tote a gun, going down an' +bearding such a thief in his own den? You know I allus like to shoot +when I'm being shot at." + +"Well, I don't blame you; it's only a petty weakness," grinned the +stranger, hanging onto his Colt as if fearing that the other would +snatch it and run. "But you'll do better without any gun--me an' the +bartender don't want to have to go down there an' bring you back on a +plank." + +"All right, then," sighed Fisher, reluctantly, "but he'll jump the +price again. He'll fine me for contempt of court an' make me pay money +I ain't got for disturbing him. But I'm game--so long." + +When he had gained the street, the stranger turned to the bartender. +"Now, friend, you tell me if this man of gall, this Mr. Townsend, has +got many friends in town--anybody that'll be likely to pot shoot from +the back when things get warm. I can't watch both ends unless I know +what I'm up against." + +"/No!/ Every man in town hates him," answered the bartender, hastily, +and with emphasis. + +"Ah, that's good. Now, I wonder if you could see 'most everybody +that's in town now an' get 'em to promise to help me by letting me run +this all by myself. All I want them to do is not to say a word. It +ain't hard to keep still when you want to." + +"Why, I reckon I might see 'em--there ain't many here this time of +day," responded the bartender. "But what's yore game, anyhow?" he +asked, suddenly growing suspicious. + +"It's just a little scheme I figgered out," the stranger replied, and +then he confided in the bartender, who jigged a few fancy steps to +show his appreciation of the other's genius. His suspicions left him +at once, and he hastened out to tell the inhabitants of the town to +follow his instructions to the letter, and he knew they would obey, +and be glad, hilariously glad, to do so. While he was hurrying around +giving his instructions, the CG puncher returned to the hotel and +reported. + +"Well, it worked, all right," Fisher growled. "I told him what I'd do +to him if he tried to auction that cayuse off an' he retorted that if +I didn't shut up an' mind my own business, that he'd sell the horse +this noon, at twelve o'clock, in the public square, wherever that is. +I told him he was a coyote and dared him to do it. Told him I'd pump +him full of air ducts if he didn't wait till next week. Said I had the +promise of a gun an' that it'd give me great pleasure to use it on him +if he tried any auctioneering at my expense this noon. Then he fined +me five dollars more, swore that he'd show me what it meant to dare +the marshal of Rawhide an' insult the dignity of the court an' town +council, an' also that he'd shoot my liver all through my system if I +didn't leave him to his reflections. Now, look here, stranger; noon is +only two hours away an' I'm due to lose my outfit: what are /you/ +going to do to get me out of this mess?" he finished anxiously, hands +on hips. + +"You did real well, very fine, indeed," replied the stranger, smiling +with content. "An' don't you worry about that outfit--I'm going to get +it back for you an' a little bit more. So, as long as you don't lose +nothing, you ain't got no kick coming, have you? An' you ain't got no +interest in what I'm going to do. Just sit tight an' keep yore eyes +an' ears open at noon. Meantime, if you want something to do to keep +you busy, practise making speeches--you ought to be ashamed to be +punching cows an' working for a living when you could use yore talents +an' get a lot of graft besides. Any man who can say as much on nothing +as you can ought to be in the Senate representing some railroad +company or waterpower steal--you don't have to work there, just loaf +an' take easy money for cheating the people what put you there. Now, +don't get mad--I'm only stringing you: I wouldn't be mean enough to +call you a senator. To tell the truth, I think yo're too honest to +even think of such a thing. But go ahead an' practise--/I/ don't mind +it a bit." + +"Huh! I couldn't go to Congress," laughed Fisher. "I'd have to +practise by getting elected mayor of some town an' then go to the +Legislature for the finishing touches." + +"Mr. Townsend would beat you out," murmured the stranger, looking out +of the window and wishing for noon. He sauntered over to a chair, +placed it where he could see his horse, and took things easy. The +bartender returned with several men at his heels, and all were +grinning and joking. They took up their places against the bar and +indulged in frequent fits of chuckling, not letting their eyes stray +from the man in the chair and the open street through the door, where +the auction was to be held. They regarded the stranger in the light of +a would-be public benefactor, a martyr, who was to provide the town +with a little excitement before he followed his predecessors into the +grave. Perhaps he would /not/ be killed, perhaps he would shoot the +pound-keeper and general public nuisance--but ah, this was the stuff +of which dreams were made: the marshal would never be killed, he would +thrive and outlive his fellow-townsmen, and die in bed at a ripe old +age. + +One of the citizens, dangling his legs from the card table, again +looked closely at the man with the plan, and then turned to a +companion beside him. "I've seen that there feller som'ers, sometime," +he whispered. "I /know/ I have. But I'll be teetotally dod-blasted if +I can place him." + +"Well, Jim; I never saw him afore, an' I don't know who he is," +replied the other, refilling his pipe with elaborate care, "but if he +can kill Townsend to-day, I'll be so plumb joyous I won't know what to +do with m'self." + +"I'm afraid he won't, though," remarked another, lolling back against +the bar. "The marshal was born to hang--nobody can beat him on the +draw. But, anyhow, we're going to see some fun." + +The first speaker, still straining his memory for a clue to the +stranger's identity, pulled out a handful of silver and placed it on +the table. "I'll bet that he makes good," he offered, but there were +no takers. + +The stranger now lazily arose and stepped into the doorway, leaning +against the jamb and shaking his holster sharply to loosen the gun for +action. He glanced quickly behind him and spoke curtly: "Remember, now +--/I/ am to do all the talking at this auction; you fellers just look +on." + +A mumble of assent replied to him, and the townsmen craned their necks +to look out. A procession slowly wended its way up the street, led by +the marshal, astride a piebald horse bearing the crude brand of the +CG. Three men followed him and numerous dogs of several colors, sizes, +and ages roamed at will, in a listless, bored way, between the horse +and the men. The dust arose sluggishly and slowly dissipated in the +hot, shimmering air, and a fly buzzed with wearying persistence +against the dirty glass in the front window. + +The marshal, peering out from under the pulled-down brim of his +Stetson, looked critically at the sleepy horse standing near the open +door of the Paradise and sought its brand, but in vain, for it was +standing with the wrong side towards him. Then he glanced at the man +in the door, a puzzled expression stealing over his face. He had known +that man once, but time and events had wiped him nearly out of his +memory and he could not place him. He decided that the other horse +could wait until he had sold the one he was on, and, stopping before +the door of the Paradise, he raised his left arm, his right arm lying +close to his side, not far from the holster on his thigh. + +"Gentlemen an' feller-citizens," he began: "As marshal of this booming +city, I am about to offer for sale to the highest bidder this A Number +1 piebald, pursooant to the decree of the local court an' with the +sanction of the town council an' the mayor. This same sale is for to +pay the town for the board an' keep of this animal, an' to square the +fine in such cases made an' provided. It's sound in wind an' limb, +fourteen han's high, an' in all ways a beautiful piece of hoss-flesh. +Now, gentlemen, how much am I bid for this cayuse? Remember, before +you make me any offer, that this animal is broke to punching cows an' +is a first-class cayuse." + +The crowd in the Paradise had flocked out into the street and oozed +along the front of the building, while the stranger now leaned +carelessly against his own horse, critically looking over the one on +sale. Fisher, uneasy and worried, squirmed close at hand and glanced +covertly from his horse and saddle to the guns in the belts on the +members of the crowd. + +It was the stranger who broke the silence: "Two bits I bid--two bits," +he said, very quietly, whereat the crowd indulged in a faint snicker +and a few nudges. + +The marshal looked at him and then ignored him. "How much, gentlemen?" +he asked, facing the crowd again. + +"Two bits," repeated the stranger, as the crowd remained silent. + +"Two bits!" yelled the marshal, glaring at him angrily: "/Two bits!/ +Why, the /look/ in this cayuse's eyes is worth four! Look at the +spirit in them eyes, look at the intelligence! The saddle alone is +worth a clean forty dollars of any man's money. I am out here to sell +this animal to the highest bidder; the sale's begun, an' I want bids, +not jokes. Now, who'll start it off?" he demanded, glancing around; +but no one had anything to say except the terse stranger, who appeared +to be getting irritated. + +"You've got a starter--I've given you a bid. I bid two bits--t-w-o +b-i-t-s, twenty-five cents. Now go ahead with yore auction." + +The marshal thought he saw an attempt at humor, and since he was +feeling quite happy, and since he knew that good humor is conducive to +good bidding, he smiled, all the time, however, racking his memory for +the name of the humorist. So he accepted the bid: "All right, this +gentleman bids two bits. Two bits I am bid--two bits. Twenty-five +cents. Who'll make it twenty-five dollars? Two bits--who says twenty- +five dollars? Ah, did /you/ say twenty-five dollars?" he snapped, +leveling an accusing and threatening fore-finger at the man nearest +him, who squirmed restlessly and glanced at the stranger. "/Did you +say twenty-five dollars?/" he shouted. + +The stranger came to the rescue. "He did not. He hasn't opened his +mouth. But /I/ said twenty-five /cents/," quietly observed the +humorist. + +"Who'll gimme thirty? Who'll gimme thirty dollars? Did I hear thirty +dollars? Did I hear twenty-five dollars bid? Who said thirty dollars? +Did /you/ say twenty-five dollars?" + +"How could he when he was talking politics to the man behind him?" +asked the stranger. "I said two bits," he added complacently, as he +watched the auctioneer closely. + +"I want twenty-five dollars--an' you shut yore blasted mouth!" snapped +the marshal at the persistent twenty-five-cent man. He did not see the +fire smouldering in the squinting eyes so alertly watching him. +"Twenty-five dollars--not a cent less takes the cayuse. Why, +gentlemen, he's worth twenty in /cans/! Gimme twenty-five dollars, +somebody. /I/ bid twenty-five. I want thirty. I want thirty, +gentlemen; you must gimme thirty. /I/ bid twenty-five dollars--who's +going to make it thirty?" + +"Show us yore twenty-five an' she's yourn," remarked the stranger, +with exasperating assurance, while Fisher grew pale with excitement. +The stranger was standing clear of his horse now, and alert readiness +was stamped all over him. "You accepted my bid--show yore twenty-five +dollars or take my two bits." + +"You close that face of yourn!" exploded the marshal, angrily. "I +don't mind a little fun, but you've got altogether too damned much to +say. You've queered the bidding, an' now you shut up!" + +"I said two bits an' I mean just that. You show yore twenty-five or +gimme that cayuse on my bid," retorted the stranger. + +"By the pans of Julius Caesar!" shouted the marshal. "I'll put you to +sleep so you'll never wake up if I hears any more about you an' yore +two bits!" + +"Show me, Rednose," snapped the other, his gun out in a flash. "I want +that cayuse, an' I want it quick. You show me twenty-five dollars or +I'll take it out from under you on my bid, you yaller dog! /Stop it!/ +Shut up! That's suicide, that is. Others have tried it an' failed, an' +yo're no sleight-of-hand gun-man. This is the first time I ever paid a +hoss-thief in /silver/, or bought stolen goods, but everything has to +have a beginning. You get nervous with that hand of yourn an' I'll +cure you of it! Git off that piebald, an' quick!" + +The marshal felt stunned and groped for a way out, but the gun under +his nose was as steady as a rock. He sat there stupidly, not knowing +enough to obey orders. + +"Come, get off that cayuse," sharply commanded the stranger. "An' I'll +take yore Winchester as a fine for this high-handed business you've +been carrying on. You may be the local court an' all the town +officials, but I'm the Governor, an' here's my Supreme Court, as I was +saying to the boys a little while ago. Yo're overruled. Get off that +cayuse, an' don't waste no more time about it, neither!" + +The marshal glared into the muzzle of the weapon and felt a sinking in +the pit of his stomach. Never before had he failed to anticipate the +pull of a gun. As the stranger said, there must always be a beginning, +a first time. He was thinking quickly now; he was master of himself +again, but he realized that he was in a tight place unless he obeyed +the man with the drop. Not a man in town would help him; on the other +hand, they were all against him, and hugely enjoying his discomfiture. +With some men he could afford to take chances and jerk at his gun even +when at such a disadvantage, but-- + +"Stranger," he said slowly, "what's yore name?" + +The crowd listened eagerly. + +"My /friends/ call me Hopalong Cassidy; other people, other things-- +you gimme that cayuse an' that Winchester. Here! Hand the gun to +Fisher, so there won't be no lamentable accidents: I don't want to +shoot you, 'less I have to." + +"They're both yourn," sighed Mr. Townsend, remembering a certain day +over near Alameda, when he had seen Mr. Cassidy at gun-play. He +dismounted slowly and sorrowfully. "Do I--do I get my two bits?" he +asked. + +"You shore do--yore gall is worth it," said Mr. Cassidy, turning the +piebald over to its overjoyed owner, who was already arranging further +gambling with his friend, the bartender. + +Mr. Townsend pocketed the one bid, surveyed glumly the hilarious crowd +flocking in to the bar to drink to their joy in his defeat, and +wandered disconsolately back to the pound. He was never again seen in +that locality, or by any of the citizens of Rawhide, for between dark +and dawn he resumed his travels, bound for some locality far removed +from limping, red-headed drawbacks. + + + + CHAPTER XV + + JOHNNY LEARNS SOMETHING + +For several weeks after Hopalong got back to the ranch, full of +interesting stories and minus the grouch, things went on in a way +placid enough for the most peacefully inclined individual that ever +sat a saddle. And then trouble drifted down from the north and caused +a look of anxiety to spoil Buck Peters' pleasant expression, and began +to show on the faces of his men. When one finds the carcasses of two +cows on the same day, and both are skinned, there can be only one +conclusion. The killing and skinning of two cows out of herds that are +numbered by thousands need not, in themselves, bring lines of worry to +any foreman's brow; but there is the sting of being cheated, the +possibility of the losses going higher unless a sharp lesson be given +upon the folly of fooling with a very keen and active buzz-saw,--and +it was the determination of the outfit of the Bar-20 to teach that +lesson, and as quickly as circumstances would permit. + +It was common knowledge that there was a more or less organized band +of shiftless malcontents making its headquarters in and near Perry's +Bend, some distance up the river, and the deduction in this case was +easy. The Bar-20 cared very little about what went on at Perry's Bend +--that was a matter which concerned only the ranches near that town-- +as long as no vexatious happenings sifted too far south. But they had +so sifted, and Perry's Bend, or rather the undesirable class hanging +out there, was due to receive a shock before long. + +About a week after the finding of the first skinned cows, Pete Wilson +tornadoed up to the bunk house with a perforated arm. Pete was on +foot, having lost his horse at the first exchange of shots, which +accounts for the expression describing his arrival. Pete hated to +walk, he hated still more to get shot, and most of all he hated to +have to admit that his rifle-shooting was so far below par. He had +seen the thief at work and, too eager to work up close to the cattle +skinner before announcing his displeasure, had missed the first shot. +When he dragged himself out from under his deceased horse the scenery +was undisturbed save for a small cloud of dust hovering over a distant +rise to the north of him. After delivering a short and bitter +monologue he struck out for the ranch and arrived in a very hot and +wrathful condition. It was contagious, that condition, and before long +the entire outfit was in the saddle and pounding north, Pete overjoyed +because his wound was so slight as not to bar him from the chase. The +shock was on the way, and as events proved, was to be one long to +linger in the minds of the inhabitants of Perry's Bend and the +surrounding range. + + + +The patrons of the Oasis liked their tobacco strong. The pungent smoke +drifted in sluggish clouds along the low, black ceiling, following its +upward slant toward the east wall and away from the high bar at the +other end. This bar, rough and strong, ran from the north wall to +within a scant two feet of the south wall, the opening bridged by a +hinged board which served as an extension to the counter. Behind the +bar was a rear door, low and double, the upper part barred securely-- +the lower part was used most. In front of and near the bar was a large +round table, at which four men played cards silently, while two +smaller tables were located along the north wall. Besides dilapidated +chairs there were half a dozen low wooden boxes partly filled with +sand, and attention was directed to the existence and purpose of these +by a roughly lettered sign on the wall, reading: "Gents will look for +a box first," which the "gents" sometimes did. The majority of the +"gents" preferred to aim at various knotholes in the floor and bet on +the result, chancing the outpouring of the proprietor's wrath if they +missed. + +On the wall behind the bar was a smaller and neater request: "Leave +your guns with the bartender.--Edwards." This, although a month old, +still called forth caustic and profane remarks from the regular +frequenters of the saloon, for hitherto restraint in the matter of +carrying weapons had been unknown. They forthwith evaded the order in +a manner consistent with their characteristics--by carrying smaller +guns where they could not be seen. The majority had simply sawed off a +generous part of the long barrels of their Colts and Remingtons, which +did not improve their accuracy. + +Edwards, the new marshal of Perry's Bend, had come direct from Kansas +and his reputation as a fighter had preceded him. When he took up his +first day's work he was kept busy proving that he was the rightful +owner of it and that it had not been exaggerated in any manner or +degree. With the exception of one instance the proof had been +bloodless, for he reasoned that gun-play should give way, whenever +possible, to a crushing "right" or "left" to the point of the jaw or +the pit of the stomach. His proficiency in the manly art was polished +and thorough and bespoke earnest application. The last doubting Thomas +to be convinced came to five minutes after his diaphragm had been +rudely and suddenly raised several inches by a low right hook, and as +he groped for his bearings and got his wind back again he asked, very +feebly, where "Kansas" was; and the name stuck. + +When Harlan heard the nickname for the first time he stopped pulling +the cork out of a whiskey bottle long enough to remark, casually, "I +allus reckoned Kansas was purty close to hell," and said no more about +it. Harlan was the proprietor and bartender of the Oasis and catered +to the excessive and uncritical thirsts of the ruck of range society, +and he had objected vigorously to the placing of the second sign in +his place of business; but at the close of an incisive if inelegant +reply from the marshal, the sign went up, and stayed up. Edwards' +language and delivery were as convincing as his fists. + +The marshal did not like the Oasis; indeed, he went further and +cordially hated it. Harlan's saloon was a thorn in his side and he was +only waiting for a good excuse to wipe it off the local map. He was +the Law, and behind him were the range riders, who would be only too +glad to have the nest of rustlers wiped out and its gang of ne'er-do- +wells scattered to the four winds. Indeed, he had been given to +understand in a most polite and diplomatic way that if this were not +done lawfully they would try to do it themselves, and they had great +faith in their ability to handle the situation in a thorough and +workmanlike manner. This would not do in a law-abiding community, as +he called the town, and so he had replied that the work was his, and +that it would be performed as soon as he believed himself justified to +act. Harlan and his friends were fully conversant with the feeling +against them and had become a little more cautious, alertly watching +out for trouble. + +On the evening of the day which saw Pete Wilson's discomfiture most of +the habitues had assembled in the Oasis where, besides the card- +players already mentioned, eight men lounged against the bar. There +was some laughter, much subdued talking, and a little whispering. More +whispering went on under that roof than in all the other places in +town put together; for here rustling was planned, wayfaring strangers +were "trimmed" in "frame-ups" at cards, and a hunted man was certain +to find assistance. Harlan had once boasted that no fugitive had ever +been taken from his saloon, and he was behind the bar and standing on +the trap door which led to the six-by-six cellar when he made the +assertion. It was true, for only those in his confidence knew of the +place of refuge under the floor; it had been dug at night and the dirt +carefully disposed of. + +It had not been dark very long before talking ceased and card-playing +was suspended while all looked up as the front door crashed open and +two punchers entered, looking the crowd over with critical care. + +"Stay here, Johnny," Hopalong told his youthful companion, and then +walked forward, scrutinizing each scowling face in turn, while Johnny +stood with his back to the door, keenly alert, his right hand resting +lightly on his belt not far from the holster. + +Harlan's thick neck grew crimson and his eyes hard. "Looking fer +something?" he asked with bitter sarcasm, his hands under the bar. +Johnny grinned hopefully and a sudden tenseness took possession of him +as he watched for the first hostile move. + +"Yes," Hopalong replied coolly, appraising Harlan's attitude and look +in one swift glance, "but it ain't here, now. Johnny, get out," he +ordered, backing after his companion, and safely outside, the two +walked towards Jackson's store, Johnny complaining about the little +time spent in the Oasis. + +As they entered the store they saw Edwards, whose eye asked a +question. + +"No; he ain't in there yet," Hopalong replied. + +"Did you look all over? Behind the bar?" Edwards asked, slowly. "He +can't get out of town through that cordon you've got strung around it, +an' he ain't nowhere else. Leastwise, I couldn't find him." + +"Come on back!" excitedly exclaimed Johnny, turning towards the door. +"You didn't look behind the bar! Come on--bet you ten dollars that's +where he is!" + +"Mebby yo're right, Kid," replied Hopalong, and the marshal's nodding +head decided it. + +In the saloon there was strong language, and Jack Quinn, expert +skinner of other men's cows, looked inquiringly at the proprietor. +"What's up now, Harlan?" + +The proprietor laughed harshly but said nothing--taciturnity was his +one redeeming trait. "Did you say cigars?" he asked, pushing a box +across the bar to an impatient customer. Another beckoned to him and +he leaned over to hear the whispered request, a frown struggling to +show itself on his face. "Nix; you know my rule. No trust in here." + +But the man at the far end of the line was unlike the proprietor and +he prefaced his remarks with a curse. "/I/ know what's up! They want +Jerry Brown, that's what! An' I hopes they don't get him, the +bullies!" + +"What did he do? Why do they want him?" asked the man who had wanted +trust. + +"Skinning. He was careless or crazy, working so close to their ranch +houses. Nobody that had any sense would take a chance like that," +replied Boston, adept at sleight-of-hand with cards and very much in +demand when a frame-up was to be rung in on some unsuspecting +stranger. His one great fault in the eyes of his partners was that he +hated to divvy his winnings and at times had to be coerced into +sharing equally. + +"Aw, them big ranches make me mad," announced the first speaker. "Ten +years ago there was a lot of little ranchers, an' every one of 'em had +his own herd, an' plenty of free grass an' water for it. Where are the +little herds now? Where are the cows that /we/ used to own?" he cried, +hotly. "What happens to a maverick-hunter now-a-days? By God, if a man +helps hisself to a pore, sick dogie he's hunted down! It can't go on +much longer, an' that's shore." + +Cries of approbation arose on all sides, for his auditors ignored the +fact that their kind, by avarice and thievery, had forever killed the +occupation of maverick-hunting. That belonged to the old days, before +the demand for cows and their easy and cheap transportation had +boosted the prices and made them valuable. + +Slivers Lowe leaped up from his chair. "Yo're right, Harper! Dead +right! /I/ was a little cattle owner once, so was you, an' Jerry, an' +most of us!" Slivers found it convenient to forget that fully half of +his small herd had perished in the bitter and long winter of five +years before, and that the remainder had either flowed down his +parched throat or been lost across the big round table near the bar. +Not a few of his cows were banked in the east under Harlan's name. + +The rear door opened slightly and one of the loungers looked up and +nodded. "It's all right, Jerry. But get a move on!" + +"Here, /you/!" called Harlan, quickly bending over the trap door, +"/Lively!/" + +Jerry was half way to the proprietor when the front door swung open +and Hopalong, closely followed by the marshal, leaped into the room, +and immediately thereafter the back door banged open and admitted +Johnny. Jerry's right hand was in his side coat pocket and Johnny, +young and self-confident, and with a lot to learn, was certain that he +could beat the fugitive on the draw. + +"I reckon you won't blot no more brands!" he cried, triumphantly, +watching both Jerry and Harlan. + +The card-players had leaped to their feet and at a signal from Harlan +they surged forward to the bar and formed a barrier between Johnny and +his friends; and as they did so that puncher jerked at his gun, +twisting to half face the crowd. At that instant fire and smoke +spurted from Jerry's side coat pocket and the odor of burning cloth +arose. As Johnny fell, the rustler ducked low and sprang for the door. +A gun roared twice in the front of the room and Jerry staggered a +little and cursed as he gained the opening, but he plunged into the +darkness and threw himself into the saddle on the first horse he found +in the small corral. + +When the crowd massed, Hopalong leaped at it and strove to tear his +way to the opening at the end of the bar, while the marshal covered +Harlan and the others. Finding that he could not get through. Hopalong +sprang on the shoulder of the nearest man and succeeded in winging the +fugitive at the first shot, the other going wild. Then, frantic with +rage and anxiety, he beat his way through the crowd, hammering +mercilessly at heads with the butt of his Colt, and knelt at his +friend's side. + +Edwards, angered almost to the point of killing, ordered the crowd to +stand against the wall, and laughed viciously when he saw two men +senseless on the floor. "Hope he beat in yore heads!" he gritted, +savagely. "Harlan, put yore paws up in sight or I'll drill you clean! +Now climb over an' get in line--quick!" + +Johnny moaned and opened his eyes. "Did--did I--get him?" + +"No; but he gimleted you, all right," Hopalong replied. "You'll come +'round if you keep quiet." He arose, his face hard with the desire to +kill. "I'm coming back for /you/, Harlan, after I get yore friend! An' +all the rest of you pups, too!" + +"Get me out of here," whispered Johnny. + +"Shore enough, Kid; but keep quiet," replied Hopalong, picking him up +in his arms and moving carefully towards the door. "We'll get him, +Johnny; an' all the rest, too, when----" The voice died out in the +direction of Jackson's and the marshal, backing to the front door, +slipped out and to one side, running backward, his eyes on the saloon. + +"Yore day's about over, Harlan," he muttered. "There's going to be +some few funerals around here before many hours pass." + +When he reached the store he found the owner and two Double-Arrow +punchers taking care of Johnny. "Where's Hopalong?" he asked. + +"Gone to tell his foreman," replied Jackson. "Hey, youngster, you let +them bandages alone! Hear me?" + +"Hullo, Kansas," remarked John Bartlett, foreman of the Double-Arrow. +"I come nigh getting yore man; somebody rode past me like a streak in +the dark, so I just ups an' lets drive for luck, an' so did he. I +heard him cuss an' I emptied my gun after him." + +"The rest was a-passing the word along to ride in when I left the +line," remarked one of the other punchers. "How you feeling now, +Johnny?" + + + + CHAPTER XVI + + THE END OF THE TRAIL + +The rain slanted down in sheets and the broken plain, thoroughly +saturated, held the water in pools or sent it down the steep sides of +the arroyo, to feed the turbulent flood which swept along the bottom, +foam-flecked and covered with swiftly moving driftwood. Around a bend +in the arroyo, where the angry water flung itself against the ragged +bulwark of rock and flashed away in a gleaming line of foam, a +horseman appeared bending low in the saddle for better protection +against the storm. He rode along the edge of the stream on the farther +bank, opposite the steep bluff on the northern side, forcing his +wounded and jaded horse to keep fetlock deep in the water which +swirled and sucked about its legs. He was trying his hardest to hide +his trail. Lower down the hard, rocky ground extended to the water's +edge, and if he could delay his pursuers for an hour or so, he felt +that, even with his tired horse, he would have more than an even +chance. + +But they had gained more than he knew. Suddenly above him on the top +of the steep bluff across the torrent a man loomed up against the +clouds, peered intently into the arroyo, and then waved his sombrero +to an unseen companion. A puff of smoke flashed from his shoulder and +streaked away, the report of the shot lost in the gale. The fugitive's +horse reared and plunged into the deep water and with its rider was +swept rapidly towards the bend, the way they had come. + +"That makes the fourth time I've missed that coyote!" angrily +exclaimed Hopalong as Red Connors joined him. + +The other quickly raised his rifle and fired; and the horse, spilling +its rider out of the saddle, floated away tail first. The fugitive, +gripping his rifle, bobbed and whirled at the whim of the greedy water +as shots struck near him. Making a desperate effort, he staggered up +the bank and fell exhausted behind a boulder. + +"Well, the coyote is afoot, anyhow," said Red, with great +satisfaction. + +"Yes; but how are we going to get to him?" asked Hopalong. "We can't +get the cayuses down here, an' we can't swim /that/ water without +them. An' if we could, he'd pot us easy." + +"There's a way out of it somewhere," Red replied, disappearing over +the edge of the bluff to gamble with Fate. + +"Hey! Come back here, you chump!" cried Hopalong, running forward. +"He'll get you, shore!" + +"That's a chance I've got to take if I get him," was the reply. + +A puff of smoke sailed from behind the boulder on the other bank and +Hopalong, kneeling for steadier aim, fired and then followed his +friend. Red was downstream casting at a rock across the torrent but +the wind toyed with the heavy, water-soaked /reata/ as though it were +a string. As Hopalong reached his side a piece of driftwood ducked +under the water and an angry humming sound died away downstream. As +the report reached their ears a jet of water spurted up into Red's +face and he stepped back involuntarily. + +"He's so shaky," Hopalong remarked, looking back at the wreath of +smoke above the boulder. "I reckon I must have hit him harder than I +thought in Harlan's. Gee! He's wild as blazes!" he yelled as a bullet +hummed high above his head and struck sharply against the rock wall. + +"Yes," Red replied, coiling the rope. "I was trying to rope that rock +over there. If I could anchor to that, the current would push us over +quick. But it's too far with this wind blowing." + +"We can't do nothing here 'cept get plugged. He'll be getting steadier +as he rests from his fight with the water," Hopalong remarked, and +added quickly, "Say, remember that meadow back there a ways? We can +make her from there, all right." + +"Yo're right; that's what we've got to do. He's sending 'em nearer +every shot--Gee! I could 'most feel the wind of that one. An' blamed +if it ain't stopped raining. Come on." + +They clambered up the slippery, muddy bank to where they had left +their horses, and cantered back over their trail. Minute after minute +passed before the cautious skulker among the rocks across the stream +could believe in his good fortune. When he at last decided that he was +alone again he left his shelter and started away, with slowly +weakening stride, over cleanly washed rock where he left no trail. + +It was late in the afternoon before the two irate punchers appeared +upon the scene, and their comments, as they hunted slowly over the +hard ground, were numerous and bitter. Deciding that it was hopeless +in that vicinity, they began casting in great circles on the chance of +crossing the trail further back from the river. But they had little +faith in their success. As Red remarked, snorting like a horse in his +disgust, "I'll bet four dollars an' a match he's swum down the river +clean to hell just to have the laugh on us." Red had long since given +it up as a bad job, though continuing to search, when a shout from the +distant Hopalong sent him forward on a run. + +"Hey, Red!" cried Hopalong, pointing ahead of them. "Look there! Ain't +that a house?" + +"Naw; course not! It's a--it's a ship!" Red snorted sarcastically. +"What did you think it might be?" + +"G'wan!" retorted his companion. "It's a mission." + +"Ah, g'wan yoreself! What's a mission doing up here?" Red snapped. + +"What do you think they do? What do they do anywhere?" hotly rejoined +Hopalong, thinking about Johnny. "There! See the cross?" + +"Shore enough!" + +"An' there's tracks at last--mighty wobbly, but tracks just the same. +Them rocks couldn't go on forever. Red, I'll bet he's cashed in by +this time." + +"Cashed nothing! Them fellers don't." + +"Well, if he's in that joint we might as well go back home. We won't +get him, not nohow," declared Hopalong. + +"Huh! You wait an' see!" replied Red, pugnaciously. + +"Reckon you never run up agin a mission real hard," Hopalong +responded, his memory harking back to the time he had disagreed with a +convent, and they both meant about the same to him as far as winning +out was concerned. + +"Think I'm a fool kid?" snapped Red, aggressively. + +"Well, you ain't no /kid/." + +"You let /me/ do the talking; /I'll/ get him." + +"All right; an' I'll do the laughing," snickered Hopalong, at the +door. "Sic 'em, Red!" + +The other boldly stepped into a small vestibule, Hopalong close at his +heels. Red hitched his holster and walked heavily into a room at his +left. With the exception of a bench, a table, and a small altar, the +room was devoid of furnishings, and the effect of these was lost in +the dim light from the narrow windows. The peculiar, not unpleasant +odor of burning incense and the dim light awakened a latent reverence +and awe in Hopalong, and he sneaked off his sombrero, an inexplicable +feeling of guilt stealing over him. There were three doors in the +walls, deeply shrouded in the dusk of the room, and it was very hard +to watch all three at once. + +Red was peering into the dark corners, his hand on the butt of his +Colt, and hardly knew what he was looking for. "This joint must 'a' +looked plumb good to that coyote, all right. He had a hell of a lot of +luck, but he won't keep it for long, damn him!" he remarked. + +"Quit cussing!" tersely ordered Hopalong. "An' for God's sake, throw +out that damned cigarette! Ain't you got no manners?" + +Red listened intently and then grinned. "Hear that? They're playing +dominoes in there--come on!" + +"Aw, you chump! 'Dominee' means 'mother' in Latin, which is what they +speaks." + +"How do you know?" + +"Hanged if I can tell--I've heard it somewhere, that's all." + +"Well, I don't care what it means. This is a frame-up so that coyote +can get away. I'll bet they gave him a cayuse an' started him off +while we've been losing time in here. I'm going inside an' ask some +questions." + +Before he could put his plan into execution, Hopalong nudged him and +he turned to see his friend staring at one of the doors. There had +been no sound, but he would swear that a monk stood gravely regarding +them, and he rubbed his eyes. He stepped back suspiciously and then +started forward again. + +"Look here, stranger," he remarked, with quiet emphasis, "we're after +that cow-lifter, an' we mean to get him. Savvy?" + +The monk did not appear to hear him, so he tried another tack. "/Habla +Espanola?/" he asked, experimentally. + +"You have ridden far?" replied the monk in perfect English. + +"All the way from the Bend," Red replied, relieved. "We're after Jerry +Brown. He tried to kill Johnny, an' near made good. An' I reckon we've +treed him, judging from the tracks." + +"And if you capture him?" + +"He won't have no more use for no side pocket shooting." + +"I see; you will kill him." + +"Shore's it's wet outside." + +"I'm afraid you are doomed to disappointment." + +"Ya-as?" asked Red with a rising inflection. + +"You will not want him now," replied the monk. + +Red laughed sarcastically and Hopalong smiled. + +"There ain't a-going to be no argument about it. Trot him out," +ordered Red, grimly. + +The monk turned to Hopalong. "Do you, too, want him?" + +Hopalong nodded. + +"My friends, he is safe from your punishment." + +Red wheeled instantly and ran outside, returning in a few moments, +smiling triumphantly. "There are tracks coming in, but there ain't +none going away. He's here. If you don't lead us to him we'll shore +have to rummage around an' poke him out for ourselves: which is it?" + +"You are right--he is here, and he is not here." + +"We're waiting," Red replied, grinning. + +"When I tell you that you will not want him, do you still insist on +seeing him?" + +"We'll see him, an' we'll want him, too." + +As the rain poured down again the sound of approaching horses was +heard, and Hopalong ran to the door in time to see Buck Peters swing +off his mount and step forward to enter the building. Hopalong stopped +him and briefly outlined the situation, begging him to keep the men +outside. The monk met his return with a grateful smile and, stepping +forward, opened the chapel door, saying, "Follow me." + +The unpretentious chapel was small and nearly dark, for the usual +dimness was increased by the lowering clouds outside. The deep, narrow +window openings, fitted with stained glass, ran almost to the rough- +hewn rafters supporting the steep-pitched roof, upon which the heavy +rain beat again with a sound like that of distant drums. Gusts of rain +and the water from the roof beat against the south windows, while the +wailing wind played its mournful cadences about the eaves, and the +stanch timbers added their creaking notes to swell the dirge-like +chorus. + +At the farther end of the room two figures knelt and moved before the +white altar, the soft light of flickering candles playing fitfully +upon them and glinting from the altar ornaments, while before a rough +coffin, which rested upon two pedestals, stood a third, whose rich, +sonorous Latin filled the chapel with impressive sadness. "Give +eternal rest to them, O Lord,"--the words seeming to become a part of +the room. The ineffably sad, haunting melody of the mass whispered +back from the room between the assaults of the enraged wind, while +from the altar came the responses in a low, Gregorian chant, and +through it all the clinking of the censer chains added intermittent +notes. Aloft streamed the vapor of the incense, wavering with the air +currents, now lost in the deep twilight of the sanctuary, and now +faintly revealed by the glow of the candles, perfuming the air with +its aromatic odor. + +As the last deep-toned words died away the celebrant moved slowly +around the coffin, swinging the censer over it and then, sprinkling +the body and making the sign of the cross above its head, solemnly +withdrew. + +From the shadows along the side walls other figures silently emerged +and grouped around the coffin. Raising it they turned it slowly around +and carried it down the dim aisle in measured tread, moving silently +as ghosts. + +"He is with God, Who will punish according to his sins," said a low +voice, and Hopalong started, for he had forgotten the presence of the +guide. "God be with you, and may you die as he died--repentant and in +peace." + +Buck chafed impatiently before the chapel door leading to a small, +well-kept graveyard, wondering what it was that kept quiet for so long +a time his two most assertive men, when he had momentarily expected to +hear more or less turmoil and confusion. + +/C-r-e-a-k!/ He glanced up, gun in hand and raised as the door swung +slowly open. His hand dropped suddenly and he took a short step +forward; six black-robed figures shouldering a long box stepped slowly +past him, and his nostrils were assailed by the pungent odor of the +incense. Behind them came his fighting punchers, humble, awed, +reverent, their sombreros in their hands, and their heads bowed. + +"What in blazes!" exclaimed Buck, wonder and surprise struggling for +the mastery as the others cantered up. + +"He's cashed," Red replied, putting on his sombrero and nodding toward +the procession. + +Buck turned like a flash and spoke sharply: "Skinny! Lanky! Follow +that glory-outfit, an' see what's in that box!" + +Billy Williams grinned at Red. "Yo're shore pious, Red." + +"Shut up!" snapped Red, anger glinting in his eyes, and Billy +subsided. + +Lanky and Skinny soon returned from accompanying the procession. + +"I had to look twice to be shore it was him. His face was plumb happy, +like a baby. But he's gone, all right," Lanky reported. + +"Deader'n hell," remarked Skinny, looking around curiously. "This here +is some shack, ain't it?" he finished. + +"All right--he knowed how he'd finish when he began. Now for that dear +Mr. Harlan," Buck replied, vaulting into the saddle. He turned and +looked at Hopalong, and his wonder grew. "Hey, /you/! Yes, /you/! Come +out of that an' put on yore lid! Straddle leather--we can't stay here +all night." + +Hopalong started, looked at his sombrero and silently obeyed. As they +rode down the trail and around a corner he turned in his saddle and +looked back; and then rode on, buried in thought. + +Billy, grinning, turned and playfully punched him in the ribs. +"Getting glory, Hoppy?" + +Hopalong raised his head and looked him steadily in the eyes; and +Billy, losing his curiosity and the grin at the same instant, looked +ahead, whistling softly. + + + + CHAPTER XVII + + EDWARDS' ULTIMATUM + +Edwards slid off the counter in Jackson's store and glowered at the +pelting rain outside, perturbed and grouchy. The wounded man in the +corner stirred and looked at him without interest and forthwith +renewed his profane monologue, while the proprietor, finishing his +task, leaned back against the shelves and swore softly. It was a +lovely atmosphere. + +"Seems to me they've been gone a long time," grumbled the wounded man. +"Reckon he led 'em a long chase--had six hours' start, the toad." He +paused and then as an afterthought said with conviction: "But they'll +get him--they allus do when they make up their minds to it." + +Edwards nodded moodily and Jackson replied with a monosyllable. + +"Wish I could 'a' gone with 'em," Johnny growled. "I like to square my +own accounts. It's allus that way. I get plugged an' my friends clean +the slate. There was that time Bye-an'-Bye went an' ambushed me--ah, +the devil! But I tell you one thing: when I get well I'm going down to +Harlan's an' clean house proper." + +"Yo're in hard luck again: that'll be done as soon as yore friends get +back," Jackson replied, carefully selecting a dried apricot from a box +on the counter and glancing at the marshal to see how he took the +remark. + +"That'll be done before then," Edwards said crisply, with the air of a +man who has just settled a doubt. "They won't be back much before +to-morrow if he headed for the country I think he did. I'm going down +to the Oasis an' tell that gang to clear out of this town. They've +been here too long now. I never had 'em dead to rights before, but +I've got it on 'em this time. I'd 'a' sent 'em packing yesterday only +I sort of hated to take a man's business away from him an' make him +lose his belongings. But I've wrastled it all out an' they've got to +go." He buttoned his coat about him and pulled his sombrero more +firmly on his head, starting for the door. "I'll be back soon," he +said over his shoulder as he grasped the handle. + +"You better wait till you get help--there's too many down there for +one man to watch an' handle," Jackson hastily remarked. "Here, I'll go +with you," he offered, looking for his hat. + +Edwards laughed shortly. "You stay here. I do my own work by myself +when I can--that's what I'm here for, an' I can do this, all right. If +I took any help they'd reckon I was scared," and the door slammed shut +behind him. + +"He's got sand a plenty," Jackson remarked. "He'd try to push back a +stampede by main strength if he reckoned it was his duty. It's his +good luck that he wasn't killed long ago--/I'd/ 'a' been." + +"They're a bunch of cowards," replied Johnny. "As long as you ain't +afraid of 'em, none of 'em wants to start anything. Bunch of sheep!" +he snorted. "Didn't Jerry shoot me through his pocket?" + +"Yes; an' yo're another lucky dog," Jackson responded, having in mind +that at first Johnny had been thought to be desperately wounded. "Why, +yore friends have got the worst of this game; they're worse off than +you are--out all day an' night in this cussed storm." + +While they talked Edwards made his way through the cold downpour to +Harlan's saloon, alone and unafraid, and greatly pleased by the order +he would give. At last he had proof enough to work on, to satisfy his +conscience, for the inevitable had come as the culmination of +continued and clever defiance of law and order. + +He deliberately approached the front door of the Oasis and, opening +it, stepped inside, his hands resting on his guns--he had packed two +Colts for the last twenty-four hours. His appearance caused a ripple +of excitement to run around the room. After what had taken place, a +visit from him could mean only one thing--trouble. And it was entirely +possible that he had others within call to help him out if necessary. + +Harlan knew that he would be the one held responsible and he ceased +wiping a glass and held the cloth suspended in one hand and the glass +in the other. "Well?" he snapped, angrily, his eyes smouldering with +fixed hatred. + +"Mebby you think it's well, but it's going to be a blamed sight better +before sundown to-morrow night," evenly replied the marshal. "I just +dropped in sort of free-like to tell you to pack up an' get out of +town before dark--load yore wagon an' vamoose; an' take yore friends +with you, too. If you don't--" he did not finish in words, for his +tightening lips made them unnecessary. + +"/What!/" yelled Harlan, red with anger. He placed his hands on the +bar and leaned over it as if to give emphasis to his words. "/Me/ pack +up an' git! /Me/ leave this shack! Who's going to pay me for it, hey? +/Me/ leave town! You drop out again an' go back to Kansas where you +come from--they're easier back there!" + +"Well, so far I ain't found nothing very craggy 'round here," retorted +Edwards, closely watching the muttering crowd by the bar. "Takes more +than a loud voice an' a pack of sneaking coyotes to send me looking +for something easier. An' let me tell you this: /You/ stay away from +Kansas--they hangs people like you back there. That's whatever. You +pack up an' git out of this town or I'll start a burying plot with you +on yore own land." + +The low, angry buzz of Harlan's friends and their savage, scowling +faces would have deterred a less determined man; but Edwards knew they +were afraid of him, and the men on whom he could call to back him up. +And he knew that there must always be a start, there must be one man +to show the way; and each of the men he faced was waiting for some one +else to lead. + +"You all slip over the horizon before dark to-night, an' it's dark +early these days," he continued. "/Don't get restless with yore +hands!/" he snapped ominously at the crowd. "I means what I say--you +shake the mud from this town off yore boots before dark--before that +Bar-20 outfit gets back," he finished meaningly. + +Questions, imprecations, and threats filled the room, and the crowd +began to spread out slowly. His guns came out like a flash and he +laughed with the elation that comes with impending battle. "The first +man to start it'll drop," he said evenly. "Who's going to be the +martyr?" + +"I /won't/ leave town!" shouted Harlan. "I'll stay here if I'm killed +for it!" + +"I admire yore loyalty to principle, but you've got damned little +sense," retorted the marshal. "You ain't no practical man. /Keep yore +hands where they are!/"--his vibrant voice turned the shifting crowd +to stone-like rigidity and he backed slowly toward the door, the poor +light gleaming dully from the polished blue steel of his Colts. +Rugged, lion-like, charged to the finger tips with reckless courage +and dare-devil self-confidence, his personality overflowed and +dominated the room, almost hypnotic in its effect. He was but one +against many, but he was the master, and they knew it; they had known +it long enough to accept it without question, and the training now +stood him in good stead. + +For a moment he stood in the open doorway, keenly scrutinizing them +for signs of danger, his unwavering guns charged with certain death +and his strong face made stronger by the shadows in its hollows. +"Before dark!"--and he was gone. + +He left behind him deep silence, which endured for several moments. + +"By the Lord, I /won't/!" cried Harlan, still staring at the door. + +The spell was broken and a babel of voices filled the room, threats +mingling with excuses, hot, vibrant, profane. These men were not +cowards all the way through, but only when face to face with the +master. They had flourished in a way by their wits alone on the same +range with the outfits of the C-80 and the Double-Arrow, for +individually they were "bad," and collectively they made a force of no +mean strength. Edwards had landed among them like a thunderbolt and +had proved his prowess, and they still held him in awesome respect. +His reckless audacity and grim singleness of purpose had saved him on +more than one occasion, for had he wavered once he would have been +shot down without mercy. But gradually his enforcement of hampering +laws became more and more intolerable, and their subordinated spirits +were nearly on the point of revolt. When he faced them they resumed +their former positions in relation to him--but once out of his sight +they plotted to destroy him. Here was the crisis: it was now or never. +They could not evade his ultimatum--it was obey or fight. + +Submission was not to be thought of, for to flee would be to lose +caste, and the story of such an act would follow them wherever they +went, and brand them as cowards. Here they had lived, and here they +would stay if possible, and to this end they discussed ways and means. + +"Harlan's right!" emphatically announced Laramie Joe. "We can't pull +out and have this foller us." + +"We should have started it with a rush when he was in here," remarked +Boston, regretfully. + +Harlan stopped his pacing and faced them, shoving out a bottle of +whiskey as an aid to his logic. + +"That chance is past, an' I don't know but what it is a good thing," +he began. "He was primed an' looking fer trouble, an' he'd shore got a +few of us afore he went under. What we want is strategy--that's the +game. You fellers have got as much brains as him, an' if we thrash +this thing out we can find a way to call his play--an' get him! No use +of any of us getting plugged 'less we have to. But whatever we do +we've got to start it right quick an' have it over before that Bar-20 +gang comes back. Harper, you an' Quinn go scouting--an' don't take no +guns with you, neither. Act like you was hitting the long trail out, +an' work back here on a circle. See how many of his friends are in +town. While you are gone the rest of us will hold a pow-wow an' take +the kinks out of this game. Chase along, an' don't waste no time." + +"Good!" cried Slivers Lowe emphatically. "There's blamed few fellers +in town now that have any use for him, for most of them are off on the +ranges. Bet we won't have more than six to fight, an' there's that +many of us here." + +The scouts departed at once and the remaining four drew close in +consultation. + +"One more drink around and then no more till this trouble is over," +Harlan said, passing the bottle. The drinks, in view of the coming +drought and the thirsty work ahead, were long and deep, and new +courage and vindictiveness crept through their veins. + +"Now here's the way it looks to me," Harlan continued, placing the +bottle, untasted by himself, on the floor behind him. "We've got to +work a surprise an' take Edwards an' his friends off their guard. +That'll be easy if we're careful, because they think we ain't looking +for fight. When we get them out of the way we can take Jackson's store +an' use one of the other shacks and wait for the Bar-20 to ride in. +They'll canter right in, like they allus do, an' when they get close +enough we'll open the game with a volley an' make every shot tell. 'T +won't last long, 'cause every one of us will have his man named before +they get here. Then the few straddlers in town, seeing how easy we've +gone an' handled it'll join us. We've got four men to come in yet, an' +by the time the C-80 an' Double-Arrow hears about it we'll be fixed to +drive 'em back home. We ought to be over a dozen strong by dark." + +"That sounds good, all right," remarked Slivers, thoughtfully, "but +can we do it that easy?" + +"Course we can! We ain't fools, an' we all can shoot as well as them," +snapped Laramie Joe, the most courageous of the lot. Laramie had taken +only one drink, and that a small one, for he was wise enough to +realize that he needed his wits as keen as he could have them. + +"We can do it easy, if Edwards goes under first," hastily replied +Harlan. "An' me an' Laramie will see to that part of it. If we don't +get him, you all can hit the trail an' we won't be sore about it. That +is, unless you are made of the stuff that stands up an' fights 'stead +of running away. I reckon I ain't none mistaken in any of you. You'll +all be there when things get hot." + +"You can bet the shack /I/ won't do no trail-hitting," growled Boston, +glancing at Slivers, who squirmed a little under the hint. + +"Well, I'm glued to the crowd; you can't lose me, fellers," Slivers +remarked, re-crossing his legs uneasily. "Are we going to begin it +from here?" + +"We ought to spread out cautions and surround Jackson's, or wherever +Edwards is," Laramie Joe suggested. "That's my--" + +"Yo're right! Now you've hit it plumb on the head!" interrupted +Harlan, slapping Laramie heartily across the back. "What did I tell +you about our brains?" he cried, enthusiastically. He had been on the +point of suggesting that plan of operations when Laramie took the +words out of his mouth. "I'd never thought of that, Laramie," he lied, +his face beaming. "Why, we've got 'em licked to a finish right now!" + +"This /is/ a hummer of a game," laughed Slivers. "But how about the +Bar-20 crowd?" + +"I've told you that already," replied the proprietor. + +"You bet it's a hummer," cried Boston, reaching for the whiskey bottle +under cover of the excitement and enthusiasm. + +Harlan pushed it away with his foot and raised his clenched fist. "Do +you wonder I didn't think of that plan?" he demanded. "Ain't I been +too mad to think at all? Hain't I seen my friends treated like dogs, +an' made to swaller insults when I couldn't raise my hand to stop it? +Didn't I see Jerry Brown chased out of my place like a wild beast? If +we are what we've been called, then we'll sneak out of town with our +tails atween our laigs; but if we're men we'll stay right here an' +cram the insults down the throats of them that made 'em! If we're +/men/ let's prove it an' make them liars swaller our lead." + +"My sentiments an' allus was!" roared Slivers, slapping Harlan's +shoulder. + +"We're men, all right, an' we'll show 'em it, too!" + +At that instant the door opened and four guns covered it before it had +swung a foot. + +"Put 'em down--it's Quinn!" exclaimed the man in the doorway, +flinching a bit. "All right, Jed," he called over his shoulder to the +man who crowded him. After Quinn came Big Jed and Harper brought up +the rear. They had no more than shaken the water from their sombreros +when the back door let in Charley Rich and his two companions, Frank +and Tom Nolan. While greetings were being exchanged and the existing +conditions explained to the newcomers, Harper and Quinn led Harlan to +one side and reported, the proprietor smiling and nodding his head +wisely. And while he listened, Slivers surreptitiously corralled the +whiskey bottle and when the last man finished with it there was +nothing in it but air. + +"Well, boys," exclaimed Harlan, "things are our way. Quinn, here, met +Joe Barr, of the C-80, who said Converse an' four other fellers, all +friends of Edwards, stopped at the ranch an' won't be back home till +the storm stops. Harper saw Fred Neil going back to his ranch, so all +we've got to figger on is the marshal, Barr, an' Jackson, an' they're +all in Jackson's store. Lacey might cut in, since he'd sell more +liquor if I went under, but he can't do very much if he does take a +hand. Now we'll get right at it." The whole thing was gone over +thoroughly and in detail, positions assigned and a signal agreed upon. +Seeing that weapons were in good condition after their long storage in +the cellar, and that cartridge belts were full, the ten men left the +room one at a time or in pairs, Harlan and Laramie Joe being the last. +And both Harlan and Laramie delayed long enough to take the precaution +of placing horses where they would be handy in case of need. + + + + CHAPTER XVIII + + HARLAN STRIKES + +Joe Barr laughingly replied to Johnny Nelson's growled remarks about +the condition of things in general and tried to soothe him, but Johnny +was unsoothable. + +"An' I've been telling him right along that he's got the best of it," +complained Jackson in a weary voice. "Got a measly hole through his +shoulder--good Lord! if it had gone a little lower!" he finished with +a show of exasperation. + +"An' ain't I been telling you all along that it ain't the measly hole +in my shoulder that's got me on the prod?" retorted Johnny, with more +earnestness than politeness. "But why couldn't I go with my friends +after Jerry an' get shot later if I had to get it at all? Look what +I'm missing, roped an' throwed in this cussed ten-by-ten shack while +they're having a little excitement." + +"Yo're missing some blamed nasty weather, Kid," replied the marshal. +"You ain't got no kick coming at all. Why, I got soaked clean through +just going down to the Oasis." + +"Well, I'm kicking, just the same," snapped Johnny. "An' furthermore, +I don't see nobody big enough to stop me, neither--did you all get +that?" + +The rear door opened and Fred Neal looked in. "Hey, Barr; come out an' +gimme a hand in the corral. Busted my cinch all to pieces half a mile +out--an' how the devil it ever busted like that is--" the door slammed +shut and softened his monologue. + +"Would you listen to that!" snorted Barr in an injured tone. "Didn't I +go an' tell him near a month ago that his cussed cinch wouldn't hold +no better'n a piece of wet paper?" His complaint added materially to +the atmosphere of sullen discontent pervading the room. "An' now I +gotter go out in this rain an'--" the slam of the door surpassed +anything yet attempted in that line of endeavor. Jackson grabbed a can +of corn as it jarred off the shelf behind him and directed a pleasing +phrase after the peevish Barr. + +"Say, won't somebody please smile?" gravely asked Edwards. "I never +saw such a happy, cheerful bunch before." + +"I might smile if I wasn't so blamed hungry," retorted Johnny. +"Doesn't anybody ever eat in this town?" he asked in great sarcasm. +"Mebby a good feed won't do me no good, but I'm going to fill myself +regardless. An' after that, if the grub don't shock me to death, I'm +shore going to trim somebody at Ol' Sledge--for two bits a hand." + +"If I could play you enough hands at that price I could sell out an' +live high without working," grinned Jackson, preparing to give the +reckless invalid all he could eat. "That's purty high, Kid; but I just +feel real devilish, an' I'm coming in." + +"An' I'll go over to my shack, get some money, an' bust the pair of +you," laughed Edwards, again buttoning his coat and going towards the +door. "Holy Cats! A log must 'a' got jammed in the sluice-gate up +there," he muttered, scowling at the black sky. "It's coming down +harder'n ever, but here goes," and he stepped quickly into the storm. + +Jackson paused with a frying pan in his hands and looked through the +window after the departing marshal, and saw him stagger, stumble +forward, then jerk out his guns and begin firing. Hard firing now +burst out in front and Jackson, cursing angrily, dropped the pan and +reached for his rifle--to drop it also and sink down, struck by the +bullet which drilled through the window. Johnny let out a yell of +rage, grabbed his Colt, and ran to the door in time to see Edwards +slowly raise up on one elbow, fire his last shot, and fall back +riddled by bullets. + +Jackson crawled to his rifle and then to the side window, where he +propped his back against a box and prepared to do his best. "It was +shore a surprise," he swore. "An' they went an' got Edwards before he +could do anything." + +"They did not!" retorted Johnny. "He--" the glass in the door vibrated +sharply and the speaker, stepping to one side out of sight, with a new +and superficial wound, opened fire on the building down the street. +Two men were lying on the ground across the street--these Edwards had +shot--and another was trying to drag himself to the shelter of a +building. A man sprinted from an old corral close by in a brave and +foolhardy attempt to save his friend, and Johnny swore because he had +to fire twice at the same mark. + +The rear door crashed open and shut as Barr, closely followed by Neal, +ran in. They had been caught in the corral but, thanks to Harlan's +whiskey, had managed to hold their own until they had a chance to make +a rush for the store. + +"Where's the marshal?" cried Barr, catching sight of Jackson. "Are you +plugged bad?" he asked, anxiously. + +"Well, I ain't plugged a whole lot /good/!" snapped Jackson. "An' +Edwards is dead. They shot him down without warning. We're going to +get ours, too--these walls don't stop them bullets. How many out +there?" + +"Must be a dozen," hastily replied Neal, who had not remained idle. +Both he and Barr were working like mad men moving boxes and barrels +against the walls to make a breastwork capable of stopping the bullets +which came through the boards. + +"I reckon--I'm bleeding inside," Jackson muttered, wearily and without +hope. "Wonder how--long we--can hold out?" + +"We'll hold out till we're good an' dead!" replied Johnny, hotly. +"They ain't got us yet an' they'll pay for it before they do. If we +can hold 'em off till Buck an' the rest come back we'll have the +pleasure of seeing 'em buried." + +"Oh, I'll get you next time!" assured Barr to an enemy, slipping a +fresh cartridge into the Sharps and peering intently at a slight rise +on the muddy plain. "You shoot like yo're drunk," he mumbled. + +"But what is it all about, anyhow?" asked Neal, finding time for an +immaterial question. "Who are they?--can't see nothing but blurs +through this rain!" + +"Yes; what's the game?" asked Barr, mildly surprised that he had not +thought of it before. + +"It's that Oasis gang," Johnny responded. He fired, and growled with +disappointment. "Harlan's at the head of it," he added. + +"Edwards--told Harlan to--get out of--town," Jackson began. + +"An' to take his gang with him," Johnny interposed quickly to save +Jackson from the strain. "They had till dark. Guess the rest. Oh, you +/coyote/!" he shouted, staggering back. There was a report farther +down the barricade and Neal called out, "I got him, Nelson; he's done. +How are you?" + +"Mad! Mad!" yelled Johnny, touching his twice-wounded shoulder and +dancing with rage and pain. "Right in the same place! Oh, wait! +/Wait!/ Hey, gimme a rifle--I can't do nothing with a Colt at this +range; my name ain't Hopalong," and he went slamming around the room +in hot search of what he wanted. + +"There ain't--no more--Johnny," feebly called Jackson, raising +slightly to ease himself. "You can have--my gun purty--soon. I won't +be able--to use it--much longer." + +"Why don't Buck an' Hoppy hurry up!" snarled Johnny. + +"Be a long time--mebby," mumbled Jackson, his trembling hands trying +to steady the rifle. "They're all--around us. /Ah/, missed!" he +intoned hoarsely, trying to pump the lever with unobeying hands. "I +can't last--much--" the words ceased abruptly and the clatter of the +rifle on the floor told the story. + +Johnny stumbled over to him and dragged him aside, covering the +upturned face with his own sombrero, and picked up the rifle. Rolling +a barrel of flour against the wall below the window he fixed himself +as comfortably as possible and threw a shell into the chamber. + +"Now, you coyotes; you pay /me/ for /that/!" he gritted, resting the +gun on the window sill and holding it so he could work it with one +hand and shoulder. + +"Wonder how them pups ever pumped up enough courage to cut loose like +this?" queried Neal from behind his flour barrel. + +"Whiskey," hazarded Barr. "Harlan must 'a' got 'em drunk. An' that's +three times I've missed that snake. Wish it would stop raining so I +could see better." + +"Why don't you wish they'd all drop dead? Wish good when you wish at +all: got as much chance of having it come true," responded Neal, +sarcastically. He smothered a curse and looked curiously at his left +arm, and from it to the new, yellow-splintered hole in the wall, which +was already turning dark from the water soaking into it. "Hey, Joe; we +need some more boxes!" he exclaimed, again looking at his arm. + +"Yes," came Johnny's voice. "Three of 'em--five of 'em, an' about six +feet long an' a foot deep. But if my outfit gets here in time we'll +want more'n a dozen." + +"Say! Lacey's firing now!" suddenly cried Barr. "He's shooting out of +his windy. That'll stop 'em from rushing us! Good boy, Lacey!" he +shouted, but Lacey did not hear him in the uproar. + +"An' he's worse off than we are, being alone," commented Neal. "Hey! +One of us better make a break for help--my ranch's the nearest. What +d'ye say?" + +"It's suicide; they'll get you before you get ten feet," Barr replied +with conviction. + +"No; they won't--the corral hides the back door, an' all the firing is +on this side. I can sneak along the back wall an' by keeping the +buildings atween me an' them, get a long ways off before they know +anything about it. Then it's a dash--an' they can't catch me. But can +you fellers hold out if I do?" + +"Two can hold out as good as three--go ahead," Johnny replied. "Leave +me some of yore Colt cartridges, though. You can't use 'em all before +you get home." + +"Don't stop fer that; there's a shelfful of all kinds behind the +counter," Barr interposed. + +"Well, so long an' good luck," and the rear door closed, and softly +this time. + +"Two hours is some wait under the present circumstances," Barr +muttered, shifting his position behind his barricade. "He can't do it +in less, nohow." + +Johnny ducked and looked foolish. "Missed me by a foot," he explained. +"He can't do it in two--not there an' back," he replied. "The trail is +mud over the fetlocks. Give him three at the least." + +"They ain't shooting as much as they was before." + +"Waiting till they gets sober, I reckon," Johnny replied. + +"If we don't hear no ruction in a few minutes we'll know he got away +all right," Barr soliloquized. "An' he's got a fine cayuse for mud, +too." + +"Hey, why can't you do the same thing if he makes it?" Johnny suddenly +asked. "I can hold her alone, all right." + +"Yo're a cheerful liar, you are," laughed Barr. "But can /you/ ride?" + +"Reckon so, but I ain't a-going to." + +"Why, we /both/ can go--it's a cinch!" Barr cried. "Come on!" + +"Lord!--an' I never even thought of that! Reckon I was too mad," +Johnny replied. "But I sort of hates to leave Jackson an' Edwards," he +added, sullenly. + +"But they're gone! You can't do them no good by staying." + +"Yes; I know. An' how about Lacey chipping in on our fight?" demanded +Johnny. "I ain't a-going to leave him to take it all. You go, Barr; it +wasn't yore fight, nohow. You didn't even know what you was fighting +for!" + +"Huh! When anybody shoots at me it's my fight, all right," replied +Barr, seating himself on the floor behind the breastwork. "I forgot +all about Lacey," he apologized. At that instant a tomato can went +/spang!/ and fell off the shelf. "An' it's too late, anyhow; they +ain't a-going to let nobody else get away on that side." + +"An' they're tuning up again, too," Johnny replied, preparing for +trouble. "Look out for a rush, Barr." + + + + CHAPTER XIX + + THE BAR-20 RETURNS. + +Hopalong Cassidy stopped swearing at the weather and looked up and +along the trail in front of him, seeing a hard-riding man approach. He +turned his head and spoke to Buck Peters, who rode close behind him. +"Somebody's shore in a hurry--why, it's Fred Neal." + +It was. Mr. Neal was making his arms move and was also shouting +something at the top of his voice. The noise of the rain and of the +horses' hoofs splashing in the mud and water at first made his words +unintelligible, but it was not long before Hopalong heard something +which made him sit up even straighter. In a moment Neal was near +enough to be heard distinctly and the outfit shook itself out of its +weariness and physical misery and followed its leader at reckless +speed. As they rode, bunched close together, Neal briefly and +graphically outlined the relative positions of the combatants, and +while Buck's more cautious mind was debating the best way to proceed +against the enemy, Hopalong cried out the plan to be followed. There +would be no strategy--Johnny, wounded and desperate, was fighting for +his life. The simplest way was the best--a dash regardless of +consequences to those making it, for time was a big factor to the two +men in Jackson's store. + +"Ride right at 'em!" Hopalong cried. "I know that bunch. They'll be +too scared to shoot straight. Paralyze 'em! Three or four are gone now +--an' the whole crowd wasn't worth one of the men they went out to +get. The quicker it's over the better." + +"Right you are," came from the rear. + +"Ride up the arroyo as close as we can get, an' then over the edge an' +straight at 'em," Buck ordered. "Their shooting an' the rain will +cover what noise we make on the soft ground. An' boys, /no quarter/!" + +"Reckon /not/!" gritted Red, savagely. "Not with Edwards an' Jackson +dead, an' the Kid fighting for his life!" + +"They're still at it!" cried Lanky Smith, as the faint and +intermittent sound of firing was heard; the driving wind was blowing +from the town, and this, also, would deaden the noise of their +approach. + +"Thank the Lord! That means that there's somebody left to fight 'em," +exclaimed Red. "Hope it's the Kid," he muttered. + +"They can't rush the store till they get Lacey, an' they can't rush +him till they get the store," shouted Neal over his shoulder. "They'd +be in a cross fire if they tried either--an' that's what licks 'em." + +"They'll be in a cross fire purty soon," promised Pete, grimly. + +Hopalong and Red reached the edge of the arroyo first and plunged over +the bank into the yellow storm-water swirling along the bottom like a +miniature flood. After them came Buck, Neal, and the others, the water +shooting up in sheets as each successive horse plunged in. Out again +on the farther side they strung out into single file along the narrow +foot-hold between water and bank and raced towards the sharp bend some +hundreds of yards ahead, the point in the arroyo's course nearest the +town. The dripping horses scrambled up the slippery incline and then, +under the goading of spurs and quirts, leaped forward as fast as they +could go across the level, soggy plain. + +A quarter of a mile ahead of them lay the scattered shacks of the +town, and as they drew nearer to it the riders could see the flashes +of guns and the smoke-fog lying close to the ground. Fire spat from +Jackson's store and a cloud of smoke still lingered around a window in +Lacey's saloon. Then a yell reached their ears, a yell of rage, +consternation and warning. Figures scurried to seek cover and the +firing from Jackson's and Lacey's grew more rapid. + +A mounted man emerged from a corral and tore away, others following +his example, and the outfit separated to take up the chase +individually. Harlan, wounded hard, was trying to run to where he had +left his horse, and after him fled Slivers Lowe. Hopalong was gaining +on them when he saw Slivers raise his arm and fire deliberately into +the back of the proprietor of the Oasis, leap over the falling body, +vault into the saddle of Harlan's horse and gallop for safety. +Hopalong's shots went wide and the last view any one had of Slivers in +that part of the country was when he dropped into an arroyo to follow +it for safety. Laramie Joe fled before Red Connors and Red's rage was +so great that it spoiled his accuracy, and he had the sorrow of seeing +the pursued grow faint in the mist and fog. Pursuit was tried until +the pursuers realized that their mounts were too worn out to stand a +show against the fresh animals ridden by the survivors of the Oasis +crowd. + +Red circled and joined Hopalong. "Blasted coyotes," he growled. +"Killed Jackson an' Edwards, an' wanted the Kid! He's shore showed 'em +what fighting is, all right. But I wonder what got into 'em all at +once to give 'em nerve enough to start things?" + +"Edwards paid his way, all right," replied Hopalong. "If I do as well +when my time comes I won't do no kicking." + +"Yore time ain't coming that way," responded Red, grinning. "You'll +die a natural death in bed, unless you gets to cussing me." + +"Shore there ain't no more, Buck?" Hopalong called. + +"Yes. There was only five, I reckon, an' they was purty well shot up +when we took a hand. You know, Johnny was in it all the time," replied +the foreman, smiling. "This town's had the cleaning up it's needed for +some time," he added. + +They were at Jackson's store now, and hurriedly dismounted and ran in +to see Johnny. They found him lying across some boxes, which brought +him almost to the level of a window sill. He was too weak to stand, +while near him in similar condition lay Barr, too weak from loss of +blood to do more than look his welcome. + +"How are you, Kid?" cried Buck anxiously, bending over him, while +others looked to Barr's injuries. + +"Tired, Buck, awful tired; an' all shot up," Johnny slowly replied. +"When I saw you fellers--streak past this windy--I sort of went flat-- +something seemed to break inside me," he said, faintly and with an +effort, and the foreman ordered him not to talk. Deft fingers, +schooled by practice in rough and ready surgery, were busy over him +and in half an hour he lay on Jackson's cot, covered with bandages. + +"Why, hullo, Lacey!" exclaimed Hopalong, leaping forward to shake +hands with the man Red and Billy had gone to help. "Purty well +scratched up, but lively yet, hey?" + +"I'm able to hobble over here an' shake han's with these scrappers-- +they're shore wonders," Lacey replied. "Fought like a whole regiment! +Hullo, Johnny!" and his hand-clasp told much. + +"Yore cross fire did it, Lacey; that was the whole thing," Johnny +smiled. "Yo're all right!" + +Red turned and looked out of the window toward the Oasis and then +glanced at Buck. "Reckon we better burn Harlan's place--it's all +that's left of that gang now," he suggested. + +"Why, yes; I reckon so," replied the foreman. "That's as--" + +"No, we won't!" Hopalong interposed quickly. "That stands till Johnny +sets it off. It's the Kid's celebration--he was shot in it." + +Johnny smiled. + + + + CHAPTER XX + + BARB WIRE + +After the flurry at Perry's Bend the Bar-20 settled down to the calm +routine work and sent several drive herds to their destination without +any unusual incidents. Buck thought that the last herd had been driven +when, late in the summer, he received an order that he made haste to +fill. The outfit was told to get busy and soon rounded up the +necessary number of three-year-olds. Then came the road branding, the +final step except inspection, and this was done not far from the ranch +house, where the facilities were best for speedy work. + +Entirely recovered from all ill effects of his afternoon in Jackson's +store up in Perry's bend, Johnny Nelson waited with Red Connors on the +platform of the branding chute and growled petulantly at the sun, the +dust, but most of all at the choking, smarting odor of burned hair +which filled their throats and caused them to rub the backs of grimy +hands across their eyes. Chute-branding robbed them of the excitement, +the leaven of fun and frolic, which they always took from open or +corral branding--and the work of a day in the corral or open was +condensed into an hour or two by the chute. This was one cow wide, +narrow at the bottom and flared out as it went up, so the animal could +not turn, and when filled was, to use Johnny's graphic phrase, "like a +chain of cows in a ditch." Eight of the wondering and crowded animals, +guided into the pen by men who knew their work to the smallest detail +and lost no time in its performance, filed into the pen after those +branded had filed out. As the first to enter reached the farther end a +stout bar dropped into place, just missing the animal's nose; and as +the last cow discovered that it could go no farther and made up its +mind to back out, it was stopped by another bar, which fell behind it. +The iron heaters tossed a hot iron each to Red and Johnny and the +eight were marked in short order, making about two hundred and fifty +they had branded in three hours. This number compared very favorably +with that of the second chute where Lanky Smith and Frenchy McAlister +waved cold irons and sarcastically asked their iron men if the sun was +supposed to provide the heat; whereat the down-trodden heaters +provided heat with great generosity in their caustic retorts. + +"Oh, Susanna, don't you cry for me," sang Billy Williams, one of the +feeders. "But why in Jericho don't you fellers get a move on you? You +ain't no good on the platform--you ought to be mixing biscuits for +Cookie. Frenchy and Lanky are the boys to turn 'em out," he offered, +gratis. + +Red's weary air bespoke a vast and settled contempt for such inanities +and his iron descended against the side of the victim below him--he +would not deign to reply. Not so with Johnny, who could not refrain +from hot retort. + +"Don't be a fool /all/ the time," snapped Johnny. "Mind yore own +business, you shorthorn. Big-mouthed old woman, that's what--" his +tone dropped and the words sank into vague mutterings which a +strangling cough cut short. "Blasted idiot," he whispered, tears +coming into his eyes at the effort. Burning hair is bad for throat and +temper alike. + +Red deftly knocked his companion's iron up and spoke sharply. "You +mind yourn better--that makes the third you've tried to brand twice. +Why don't you look what yo're doing? Hot iron! Hot iron! What're you +fellers doing?" he shouted down at the heaters. "This ain't no time to +go to sleep. How d'ye expect us to do any work when you ain't doing +any yoreselves!" Red's temper was also on the ragged edge. + +"You've got one in yore other hand, you sheep!" snorted one of the +iron heaters with restless pugnacity. "Go tearing into us when you--" +he growled the rest and kicked viciously at the fire. + +"Lovely bunch," grinned Billy who, followed by Pete Wilson, mounted +the platform to relieve the branders. "Chase yoreselves--me an' Pete +are shore going to show you cranky bugs how to do a hundred an hour. +Ain't we, Pete? An' look here, you," he remarked to the heaters, +"don't you fellers keep /us/ waiting for hot irons!" + +"That's right! Make a fool out of yoreself first thing!" snapped one +of the pair on the ground. + +"Billy, I never loved you as much as I do this minute," grinned Johnny +wearily. "Wish you'd 'a' come along to show us how to do it an hour +ago." + +"I would, only--" + +"Quit chinning an' get busy," remarked Red, climbing down. "The +chute's full; an' it's all yourn." + +Billy caught the iron, gave it a preliminary flourish, and started to +work with a speed that would not endure for long. He branded five out +of the eight and jeered at his companion for being so slow. + +"Have yore fun now, Billy," Pete replied with placid good nature. +"Before we're through with this job you'll be lucky if you can do two +of the string, if you keep up that pace." + +"He'll be missing every other one," growled his heater with +overflowing malice. "That iron ain't cold, you Chinaman!" + +"Too cold for me--don't miss none," chuckled Billy sweetly. "Fill the +chute! Fill the chute! Don't keep us waiting!" he cried to the +guiders, hopping around with feigned eagerness and impatience. + +Hopalong Cassidy rode up and stopped as Red returned to take the place +of one of the iron heaters. "How they coming, Red?" he inquired. + +"Fast. You can sic that inspector on 'em the first thing to-morrow +morning, if he gets here on time. Bet he's off som'ers getting full of +redeye. Who're going with you on this drive?" + +"The inspector is all right--he's here now an' is going to spend the +night with us so as to be on hand the first thing to-morrow," replied +Hopalong, grinning at the hard-working pair on the platform. "Why, I +reckon I'll take you, Johnny, Lanky, Billy, Pete, an' Skinny, an' +we'll have two hoss-wranglers an' a cook, of course. We'll drive up +the right-hand trail through West Valley this time. It's longer, but +there'll be more water that way at this time of the year. Besides, I +don't want no more foot-sore cattle to nurse along. Even the West +Valley trail will be dry enough before we strike Bennett's Creek." + +"Yes; we'll have to drive 'em purty hard till we reach the creek," +replied Red, thoughtfully. "Say; we're going to have three thousand of +the finest three-year-old steers ever sent north out of these parts. +An' we ought to do it in a month an' deliver 'em fat an' frisky. We +can feed 'em good for the last week." + +"I just sent some of the boys out to drive in the cayuses," Hopalong +remarked, "an' when they get here you fellers match for choice an' +pick yore remuda. No use taking too few. About eight apiece'll do us +nice. I shore like a good cavvieyeh." + +"Hullo, Hoppy!" came from the platform as Billy grinned his welcome +through the dust on his face. "Want a job?" + +"Hullo yoreself," growled Pete. "Stick yore iron on that fourth steer +before he gets out, an' talk less with yore mouth." + +"Pete's still rabid," called Billy, performing the duty Pete +suggested. + +"That may be the polite name for it," snorted one of the iron heaters, +testing an iron, "but that ain't what I'd say. Might as well cover the +subject thoroughly while yo're on it." + +"Yes, verily," endorsed his companion. + +"Here comes the last of 'em," smiled Pete, watching several cattle +being driven towards the chute. "We'll have to brand 'em on the move, +Billy; there ain't enough to fill the chute." + +"All right; hot iron, you!" + +Early the next morning the inspector looked them over and made his +count, the herd was started north and at nightfall had covered twelve +miles. For the next week everything went smoothly, but after that, +water began to be scarce and the herd was pushed harder, and became +harder to handle. + +On the night of the twelfth day out four men sat around the fire in +West Valley at a point a dozen miles south of Bennett's Creek, and ate +heartily. The night was black--not a star could be seen and the south +wind hardly stirred the trampled and burned grass. They were +thoroughly tired out and their tempers were not in the sweetest state +imaginable, for the heat during the last four days had been almost +unbearable even to them and they had had their hands full with the +cranky herd. They ate silently, hungrily--there would be time enough +for the few words they had to say when the pipes were going for a +short smoke before turning in. + +"I feel like hell," growled Red, reaching for another cup of coffee, +but there was no reply; he had voiced the feelings of all. + +Hopalong listened intently and looked up, staring into the darkness, +and soon a horseman was seen approaching the fire. Hopalong nodded +welcome and waved his hand towards the food, and the stranger, +dismounting, picketed his horse and joined the circle. When the pipes +were lighted he sighed with satisfaction and looked around the group. +"Driving north, I see." + +"Yes; an' blamed glad to get off this dry range," Hopalong replied. +"The herd's getting cranky an' hard to hold--but when we pass the +creek everything'll be all right again. An' ain't it hot! When you +hear us kick about the heat it means something." + +"I'm going yore way," remarked the stranger. "I came down this trail +about two weeks ago. Reckon I was the last to ride through before the +fence went up. Damned outrage, says I, an' I told 'em so, too. They +couldn't see it that way an' we had a little disagreement about it. +They said as how they was going to patrol it." + +"Fence! What fence?" exclaimed Red. + +"Where's there any fence?" demanded Hopalong sharply. + +"Twenty mile north of the creek," replied the stranger, carefully +packing his pipe. + +"What? Twenty miles north of the creek?" cried Hopalong. "What creek?" + +"Bennett's. The 4X has strung three strands of barb wire from Coyote +Pass to the North Arm. Thirty mile long, without a gate, so they +says." + +"But it don't close this trail!" cried Hopalong in blank astonishment. + +"It shore does. They say they owns that range an' can fence it in all +they wants. I told 'em different, but naturally they didn't listen to +me. An' they'll fight about it, too." + +"But they /can't/ shut off this trail!" exclaimed Billy, with angry +emphasis. "They don't own it no more'n we do!" + +"I know all about that--you heard me tell you what they said." + +"But how can we get past it?" demanded Hopalong. + +"Around it, over the hills. You'll lose about three days doing it, +too." + +"I can't take no sand-range herd over them rocks, an' I ain't going to +drive 'round no North Arm or Coyote Pass if I could," Hopalong replied +with quiet emphasis. "There's poison springs on the east an' nothing +but rocks on the west. We go straight through." + +"I'm afraid that you'll have to fight if you do," remarked the +stranger. + +"Then we'll fight!" cried Johnny, leaning forward. "Blasted coyotes! +What right have they got to block a drive trail that's as old as +cattle-raising in these parts! That trail was here before I was born, +it's allus been open, an' it's going to stay open! You watch us go +through!" + +"Yo're dead right, Kid; we'll cut that fence an' stick to this trail, +an' fight if we has to," endorsed Red. "The Bar-20 ain't crawling out +of no hole that it can walk out of. They're bluffing; that's all." + +"I don't think they are; an' there's twelve men in that outfit," +suggested the stranger, offhand. + +"We ain't got time to count odds; we never do down our way when we +know we're right. An' we're right enough in this game," retorted +Hopalong, quickly. "For the last twelve days we've had good luck, +barring the few on this dry range; an' now we're in for the other +kind. By the Lord, I wish we was here without the cows to take care of +--we'd show 'em something about blocking drive trails that ain't in +their little book!" + +"Blast it all! Wire fences coming down this way now," mused Johnny, +sullenly. He hated them by training as much as he hated horse-thieves +and sheep; and his companions had been brought up in the same school. +Barb wire, the death-knell to the old-time punching, the bar to riding +at will, a steel insult to fire the blood--it had come at last. + +"We've shore got to cut it, Red,--" began Hopalong, but the cook had +to rid himself of some of his indignation and interrupted with heat. + +"Shore we have!" came explosively from the tail board of the chuck +wagon. "Got to lay it agin my li'l axe an' swat it with my big ol' +monkey wrench! An' won't them posts save me a lot of trouble hunting +chips an' firewood!" + +"We've shore got to cut it, Red," Hopalong repeated slowly. "You an' +Johnny an' me'll ride ahead after we cross the creek to-morrow an' do +it. I don't hanker after no fight with all these cows on my han's, but +we've got to risk one." + +"Shore!" cried Johnny, hotly. "I can't get over the gall of them +fellers closing up the West Valley drive trail. Why, I never heard +tell of such a thing afore!" + +"We're short-handed; we ought to have more'n we have to guard the herd +if there's a fight. If it stampedes--oh, well, that'll work out +to-morrow. The creek's only about twelve miles away an' we'll start at +daylight, so tumble in," Hopalong said as he arose. "Red, I'm going +out to take my shift--I'll send Pete in. Stranger," he added, turning, +"I'm much obliged to you for the warning. They might 'a' caught us +with our hands tied." + +"Oh, that's all right," hastily replied the stranger, who was in +hearty accord with the plans, such as they were. "My name's Hawkins, +an' I don't like range fences no more'n you do. I used to hunt buffalo +all over this part of the country before they was all killed off, an' +I allus rode where I pleased. I'm purty old, but I can still see an' +shoot; an' I'm going to stick right along with you fellers an' see it +through. Every man counts in this game." + +"Well, that's blamed white of you," Hopalong replied, greatly pleased +by the other's offer. "But I can't let you do it. I don't want to drag +you into no trouble, an'--" + +"You ain't dragging me none; I'm doing it myself. I'm about as mad as +you are over it. I ain't good for much no more, an' if I shuffles off +fighting barb wire I'll be doing my duty. First it was nesters, then +railroads an' more nesters, then sheep, an' now it's wire--won't it +never stop? By the Lord, it's got to stop, or this country will go to +the devil an' won't be fit to live in. Besides, I've heard of your +fellers before--I'll tie to the Bar-20 any day." + +"Well, I reckon you must if you must; yo're welcome enough," laughed +Hopalong, and he strode off to his picketed horse, leaving the others +to discuss the fence, with the assistance of the cook, until Pete rode +in. + + + + CHAPTER XXI + + THE FENCE + +When Hopalong rode in at midnight to arouse the others and send them +out to relieve Skinny and his two companions, the cattle were quieter +than he had expected to leave them, and he could see no change of +weather threatening. He was asleep when the others turned in, or he +would have been further assured in that direction. + +Out on the plain where the herd was being held, Red and the three +other guards had been optimistic until half of their shift was over +and it was only then that they began to worry. The knowledge that +running water was only twelve miles away had the opposite effect than +the one expected, for instead of making them cheerful, it caused them +to be beset with worry and fear. Water was all right, and they could +not have got along without it for another day; but it was, in this +case, filled with the possibility of grave danger. + +Johnny was thinking hard about it as he rode around the now restless +herd, and then pulled up suddenly, peered into the darkness and went +on again. "Damn that disreputable li'l rounder! Why the devil can't he +behave, 'stead of stirring things up when they're ticklish?" he +muttered, but he had to grin despite himself. A lumbering form had +blundered past him from the direction of the camp and was swallowed up +by the night as it sought the herd, annoying and arousing the thirsty +and irritable cattle along its trail, throwing challenges right and +left and stirring up trouble as it passed. The fact that the +challenges were bluffs made no difference to the pawing steers, for +they were anxious to have things out with the rounder. + +This frisky disturber of bovine peace was a yearling that had slipped +into the herd before it left the ranch and had kept quiet and +respectable and out of sight in the middle of the mass for the first +few days and nights. But keeping quiet and respectable had been an +awful strain, and his mischievous deviltry grew constantly harder to +hold in check. Finally he could stand the repression no longer, and +when he gave way to his accumulated energy it had the snap and ginger +of a tightly stretched rubber band recoiling on itself. On the fourth +night out he had thrown off his mask and announced his presence in his +true light by butting a sleepy steer out of its bed, which bed he +straightway proceeded to appropriate for himself. This was folly, for +the ground was not cold and he had no excuse for stealing a body- +warmed place to lie down; it was pure cussedness, and retribution +followed hard upon the act. In about half a minute he had discovered +the great difference between bullying poor, miserable, defenceless +dogies and trying to bully a healthy, fully developed, and pugnacious +steer. After assimilating the preliminary punishment of what promised +to be the most thorough and workmanlike thrashing he had ever known, +the indignant and frightened bummer wheeled and fled incontinently +with the aroused steer in angry pursuit. The best way out was the most +puzzling to the vengeful steer, so the bummer cavorted recklessly +through the herd, turning and twisting and doubling, stepping on any +steer that happened to be lying down in his path, butting others, and +leavening things with great success. Under other conditions he would +have relished the effect of his efforts, for the herd had arisen as +one animal and seemed to be debating the advisability of stampeding; +but he was in no mood to relish anything and thought only of getting +away. Finally escaping from his pursuer, that had paused to fight with +a belligerent brother, he rambled off into the darkness to figure it +all out and to maintain a sullen and chastened demeanor for the rest +of the night. This was the first time a brick had been under the hat. + +But the spirits of youth recover quickly--his recovered so quickly +that he was banished from the herd the very next night, which +banishment, not being at all to his liking, was enforced only by rigid +watchfulness and hard riding; and he was roundly cursed from dark to +dawn by the worried men, most of whom disliked the bumming youngster +less than they pretended. He was only a cub, a wild youth having his +fling, and there was something irresistibly likable and comical in his +awkward antics and eternal persistence, even though he was a pest. +Johnny saw more in him than his companions could find, and had quite a +little sport with him: he made fine practice for roping, for he was +about as elusive as a grasshopper and uncertain as a flea. Johnny was +in the same general class and he could sympathize with the +irrepressible nuisance in its efforts to stir up a little life and +excitement in so dull a crowd; Johnny hoped to be as successful in his +mischievous deviltry when he reached the town at the end of the drive. + +But to-night it was dark, and the bummer gained his coveted goal with +ridiculous ease, after which he started right in to work off the high +pressure of the energy he had accumulated during the last two nights. +He had desisted in his efforts to gain the herd early in the evening +and had rambled off and rested during the first part of the night, and +the herders breathed softly lest they should stir him to renewed +trials. But now he had succeeded, and although only Johnny had seen +him lumber past, the other three guards were aware of it immediately +by the results and swore in their throats, for the cattle were now on +their feet, snorting and moving about restlessly, and the rattling of +horns grew slowly louder. + +"Ain't he having a devil of a good time!" grinned Johnny. But it was +not long before he realized the possibilities of the bummer's efforts +and he lost his grin. "If we get through the night without trouble +I'll see that you are picketed if it takes me all day to get you," he +muttered. "Fun is fun, but it's getting a little too serious for +comfort." + +Sometime after the middle of the second shift the herd, already +irritable, nervous, and cranky because of the thirst they were +enduring, and worked up to the fever pitch by the devilish manoeuvres +of the exuberant and hard-working bummer, wanted only the flimsiest +kind of an excuse to stampede, and they might go without an excuse. A +flash of lightning, a crash of thunder, a wind-blown paper, a flapping +wagon cover, the sudden and unheralded approach of a careless rider, +the cracking and flare of a match, or the scent of a wolf or coyote-- +or water, would send an avalanche of three thousand crazed steers +crashing its irresistible way over a pitch-black plain. + +Red had warned Pete and Billy, and now he rode to find Johnny and send +him to camp for the others. As he got halfway around the circle he +heard Johnny singing a mournful lay, and soon a black bulk loomed up +in the dark ahead of him. "That you, Kid?" he asked. "That you, +Johnny?" he repeated, a little louder. + +The song stopped abruptly. "Shore," replied Johnny. "We're going to +have trouble aplenty to-night. Glad daylight ain't so very far off. +That cussed li'l rake of a bummer got by me an' into the herd. He's +shore raising Ned to-night, the li'l monkey: it's getting serious, +Red." + +"I'll shoot that yearling at daylight, damn him!" retorted Red. "I +should 'a' done it a week ago. He's picked the worst time for his +cussed devilment! You ride right in an' get the boys, an' get 'em out +here quick. The whole herd's on its toes waiting for the signal; an' +the wink of an eye'll send 'em off. God only knows what'll happen +between now and daylight! If the wind should change an' blow down from +the north, they'll be off as shore as shooting. One whiff of Bennett's +Creek is all that's needed, Kid; an'--" + +"Oh, pshaw!" interposed Johnny. "There ain't no wind at all now. It's +been quiet for an hour." + +"Yes; an' that's one of the things that's worrying me. It means a +change, shore." + +"Not always; we'll come out of this all right," assured Johnny, but he +spoke without his usual confidence. "There ain't no use--" he paused +as he felt the air stir, and he was conscious of Red's heavy +breathing. There was a peculiar hush in the air that he did not like, +a closeness that sent his heart up in his throat, and as he was about +to continue a sudden gust snapped his neck-kerchief out straight. He +felt that refreshing coolness which so often precedes a storm and as +he weighed it in his mind a low rumble of thunder rolled in the north +and sent a chill down his back. + +"Good God! Get the boys!" cried Red, wheeling. "It's /changed/! An' +Pete an' Billy out there in front of--/there they go/!" he shouted as +a sudden tremor shook the earth and a roaring sound filled the air. He +was instantly lost to ear and eye, swallowed by the oppressive +darkness as he spurred and quirted into a great, choking cloud of dust +which swept down from the north, unseen in the night. The deep thunder +of hoofs and the faint and occasional flash of a six-shooter told him +the direction, and he hurled his mount after the uproar with no +thought of the death which lurked in every hole and rock and gully on +the uneven and unseen plain beneath him. His mouth and nose were lined +with dust, his throat choked with it, and he opened his burning eyes +only at intervals, and then only to a slit, to catch a fleeting glance +of--nothing. He realized vaguely that he was riding north, because the +cattle would head for water, but that was all, save that he was +animated by a desperate eagerness to gain the firing line, to join +Pete and Billy, the two men who rode before that crazed mass of horns +and hoofs and who were pleading and swearing and yelling in vain only +a few feet ahead of annihilation--if they were still alive. A stumble, +a moment's indecision, and the avalanche would roll over them as if +they were straws and trample them flat beneath the pounding hoofs, a +modern Juggernaut. If he, or they, managed to escape with life, it +would make a good tale for the bunk house some night; if they were +killed it was in doing their duty--it was all in a day's work. + +Johnny shouted after him and then wheeled and raced towards the camp, +emptying his Colt in the air as a warning. He saw figures scurrying +across the lighted place, and before he had gained it his friends +raced past him and gave him hard work catching up to them. And just +behind him rode the stranger, to do what he could for his new friends, +and as reckless of consequences as they. + +It seemed an age before they caught up to the stragglers, and when +they realized how true they had ridden in the dark they believed that +at last their luck was turning for the better, and pushed on with +renewed hope. Hopalong shouted to those nearest him that Bennett's +Creek could not be far away and hazarded the belief that the steers +would slow up and stop when they found the water they craved; but his +words were lost to all but himself. + +Suddenly the punchers were almost trapped and their escape made +miraculous, for without warning the herd swerved and turned sharply to +the right, crossing the path of the riders and forcing them to the +east, showing Hopalong their silhouettes against the streak of pale +gray low down in the eastern sky. When free from the sudden press of +cattle they slowed perceptibly, and Hopalong did likewise to avoid +running them down. At that instant the uproar took on a new note and +increased threefold. He could hear the shock of impact, whip-like +reports, the bellowing of cattle in pain, and he arose in his stirrups +to peer ahead for the reason, seeing, as he did so, the silhouettes of +his friends arise and then drop from his sight. Without additional +warning his horse pitched forward and crashed to the earth, sending +him over its head. Slight as was the warning it served to ease his +fall, for instinct freed his feet from the stirrups, and when he +struck the ground it was feet first, and although he fell flat at the +next instant, the shock had been broken. Even as it was, he was partly +stunned, and groped as he arose on his hands and knees. Arising +painfully he took a short step forward, tripped and fell again; and +felt a sharp pain shoot through his hand as it went first to break the +fall. Perhaps it was ten seconds before he knew what it was that had +thrown him, and when he learned that he also learned the reason for +the whole calamity--in his torn and bleeding hand he held a piece of +barb wire. + +"Barb wire!" he muttered, amazed. "Barb wire! Why, what the-- /Damn +that ranch/!" he shouted, sudden rage sweeping over him as the +situation flashed through his mind and banished all the mental effects +of the fall. "They've gone an' strung it south of the creek as well! +Red! Johnny! Lanky!" he shouted at the top of his voice, hoping to be +heard over the groaning of injured cattle and the general confusion. +"Good Lord! /are they killed/!" + +They were not, thanks to the forced slowing up, and to the pool of +water and mud which formed an arm of the creek, a back-water away from +the pull of the current. They had pitched into the mud and water up to +their waists, some head first, some feet first, and others as they +would go into a chair. Those who had been fortunate enough to strike +feet first pulled out the divers, and the others gained their feet as +best they might and with varying degrees of haste, but all mixed +profanity and thankfulness equally well; and were equally and +effectually disguised. + +Hopalong, expecting the silence of death or at least the groaning of +injured and dying, was taken aback by the fluent stream of profanity +which greeted his ears. But all efforts in that line were eclipsed +when the drive foreman tersely explained about the wire, and the +providential mud bath was forgotten in the new idea. They forthwith +clamored for war, and the sooner it came the better they would like +it. + +"Not now, boys; we've got work to do first," replied Hopalong, who, +nevertheless, was troubled grievously by the same itching trigger +finger. They subsided--as a steel spring subsides when held down by a +weight--and went off in search of their mounts. Daylight had won the +skirmish in the east and was now attacking in force, and revealed a +sight which, stilling the profanity for the moment, caused it to flow +again with renewed energy. The plain was a shambles near the creek, +and dead and dying steers showed where the fence had stood. The rest +of the herd had passed over these. The wounded cattle and three horses +were put out of their misery as the first duty. The horse that +Hopalong had ridden had a broken back; the other two, broken legs. +When this work was out of the way the bruised and shaken men gave +their attention to the scattered cattle on the other side of the +creek, and when Hawkins rode up after wasting time in hunting for the +trail in the dark, he saw four men with the herd, which was still +scattered; four others near the creek, of whom only Johnny was +mounted, and a group of six strangers riding towards them from the +west and along the fence, or what was left of that portion of it. + +"That's awful!" he cried, stopping his limping horse near Hopalong. +"An' here come the fools that done it." + +"Yes," replied Johnny, his voice breaking from rage, "but they won't +go back again! I don't care if I'm killed if I can get one or two of +that crowd--" + +"Shut up, Kid!" snapped Hopalong as the 4X outfit drew near. "I know +just how you feel about it; feel that way myself. But there ain't a- +going to be no fighting while I've got these cows on my han's. That +gang'll be here when we come back, all right." + +"Mebby one or two of 'em won't," remarked Hawkins, as he looked again +over the carnage along the fence. "I never did much pot-shooting, +'cept agin Injuns; but I dunno--" He did not finish, for the strangers +were almost at his elbow. + +Cranky Joe led the 4X contingent and he did the talking for it without +waste of time. "Who the hell busted that fence?" he demanded, +belligerently, looking around savagely. Johnny's hand twitched at the +words and the way they were spoken. + +"I did; did you think somebody leaned agin it?" replied Hopalong, very +calmly,--so calmly that it was about one step short of an explosion. + +"Well, why didn't you go around?" + +"Three thousand stampeding cattle don't go 'round wire fences in the +dark." + +"Well, that's not our fault. Reckon you better dig down an' settle up +for the damages, an' half a cent a head for water; an' then go 'round. +You can't stampede through the other fence." + +"That so?" asked Hopalong. + +"Reckon it is." + +"Yo're real shore it is?" + +"Well there's only six of us here, but there's six more that we can +get blamed quick if we need 'em. It's so, all right." + +"Well, coming down to figures, there's eight here, with two hoss- +wranglers an' a cook to come," retorted Hopalong, kicking the +belligerent Johnny on the shins. "We're just about mad enough to +tackle anything: ever feel that way?" + +"Oh, no use getting all het up," rejoined Cranky Joe. "We ain't a- +going to fight 'less we has to. Better pay up." + +"Send yore bills to the ranch--if they're O. K., Buck'll pay 'em." + +"Nix; I take it when I can get it." + +"I ain't got no money with me that I can spare." + +"Then you can leave enough cows to buy back again." + +"I'm not going to pay you one damned cent, an' the only cows I'll +leave are the dead ones--an' if I could take them with me I'd do it. +An' I'm not going around the fence, neither." + +"Oh, yes; you are. An' yo're going to pay," snapped Cranky Joe. + +"Take it out of the price of two hundred dead cows an' gimme what's +left," Hopalong retorted. "It'll cost you nine of them twelve men to +pry it out'n me." + +"You won't pay?" demanded the other, coldly. + +"Not a plugged peso." + +"Well, as I said before, I don't want to fight nobody 'less I has to," +replied Cranky Joe. "I'll give you a chance to change yore mind. We'll +be out here after it to-morrow, cash or cows. That'll give you twenty- +four hours to rest yore herd an' get ready to drive. Then you pay, an' +go back, 'round the fence." + +"All right; to-morrow suits me," responded Hopalong, who was boiling +with rage and felt constrained to hold it back. If it wasn't for the +cows--! + +Red and three companions swept up and stopped in a swirl of dust and +asked questions until Hopalong shut them up. Their arrival and the +manner of their speech riled Cranky Joe, who turned around and loosed +one more remark; and he never knew how near to death he was at that +moment. + +"You fellers must own the earth, the way you act," he said to Red and +his three companions. + +"We ain't fencing it in to prove it," rejoined Hopalong, his hand on +Red's arm. + +Cranky Joe wheeled to rejoin his friends. "To-morrow," he said, +significantly. + +Hopalong and his men watched the six ride away, too enraged to speak +for a moment. Then the drive foreman mastered himself and turned to +Hawkins. "Where's their ranch house?" he demanded, sharply. "There +must be some way out of this, an' we've got to find it; an' before +to-morrow." + +"West; three hours' ride along the fence. I could find 'em the darkest +night what ever happened; I was out there once," Hawkins replied. + +"Describe 'em as exact as you can," demanded Hopalong, and when +Hawkins had done so the Bar-20 drive foreman slapped his thigh and +laughed nastily. "One house with one door an' only two windows--are +you shore? Good! Where's the corrals? Good again! So they'll take pay +for their blasted fence, eh? Cash or cows, hey! Don't want no fight +'less it's necessary, but they're going to make us pay for the fence +that killed two hundred head, an' blamed nigh got us, too. An' half a +cent a head for drinking water! I've paid that more'n once--some of +the poor devils squatting on the range ain't got nothing to sell but +water, but I don't buy none out of Bennett's Creek! Pete, you mounted +fellers round up a little--bunch the herd a little closer, an' drive +straight along the trail towards that other fence. We'll all help you +as soon as the wranglers bring us up something to ride. Push 'em hard, +limp or no limp, till dark. They'll be too tired to go crow-hopping +'round any in the dark to-night. An' say! When you see that bummer, if +he wasn't got by the fence, drop him clean. So they've got twelve men, +hey! Huh!" + +"What you going to do?" asked Red, beginning to cool down, and very +curious. + +"Yes; tell us," urged Johnny. + +"Why, I'm going to cut that fence, an' cut it all to hell. Then I'm +going to push the herd through it as far out of danger as I can. When +they're all right Cookie an' the hoss-wranglers will have to hold 'em +during the night while we do the rest." + +"What's the rest?" demanded Johnny. + +"Oh, I'll tell you that later; it can wait," replied Hopalong. +"Meanwhile, you get out there with Pete an' help get the herd in +shape. We'll be with you soon--here comes the wranglers an' the +cavvieyeh. 'Bout time, too." + + + + CHAPTER XXII + + MR. BOGGS IS DISGUSTED + +The herd gained twelve miles by dark and would pass through the +northern fence by noon of the next day, for Cook's axe and monkey +wrench had been put to good use. For quite a distance there was no +fence: about a mile of barb wire had been pulled loose and was tangled +up into several large piles, while rings of burned grass and ashes +surrounded what was left of the posts. The cook had embraced this +opportunity to lay in a good supply of firewood and was the happiest +man in the outfit. + +At ten o'clock that night eight figures loped westward along the +southern fence and three hours later dismounted near the first corral +of the 4X ranch. They put their horses in a depression on the plain +and then hastened to seek cover, being careful to make no noise. + +At dawn the door of the bunk house opened quickly and as quickly +slammed shut again, three bullets in it being the reason. An uproar +ensued and guns spat from the two windows in the general direction of +the unseen besiegers, who did not bother about replying; they had +given notification of their presence and until it was necessary to +shoot there was no earthly use of wasting ammunition. Besides, the +drive outfit had cooled down rapidly when it found that its herd was +in no immediate danger and was not anxious to kill any one unless +there was need. The situation was conducive to humor rather than +anger. But every time the door moved it collected more lead, and it +finally remained shut. + +The noise in the bunk house continued and finally a sombrero was waved +frantically at the south window and a moment later Nat Boggs, foreman +of the incarcerated 4X outfit, stuck his head out very cautiously and +yelled questions which bore directly on the situation and were to the +point. He appeared to be excited and unduly heated, if one might judge +from his words and voice. There was no reply, which still further +added to his heat and excitement. Becoming bolder and a little angrier +he allowed his impetuous nature to get the upper hand and forthwith +attempted the feat of getting through that same window; but a sharp +/pat!/ sounded on a board not a foot from him, and he reconsidered +hastily. His sombrero again waved to insist on a truce, and collected +two holes, causing him much mental anguish and threatening the loss of +his worthy soul. He danced up and down with great agility and no grace +and made remarks, thereby leading a full-voiced chorus. + +"Ain't that a hell of a note?" he demanded plaintively as he paused +for breath. "Stick /yore/ hat out, Cranky, an' see what /you/ can do," +he suggested, irritably. + +Cranky Joe regarded him with pity and reproach, and moved back towards +the other end of the room, muttering softly to himself. "I know it +ain't much of a bonnet, but he needn't rub it in," he growled, +peevishly. + +"Try again; mebby they didn't see you," suggested Jim Larkin, who had +a reputation for never making a joke. He escaped with his life and +checked himself at the side of Cranky Joe, with whom he conferred on +the harshness of the world towards unfortunates. + +The rest of the morning was spent in snipe-shooting at random, +trusting to luck to hit some one, and trusting in vain. At noon Cranky +Joe could stand the strain no longer and opened the door just a little +to relive the monotony. He succeeded, being blessed with a smashed +shoulder, and immediately became a general nuisance, adding greatly to +the prevailing atmosphere. Boggs called him a few kinds of fools and +hastened to nail the door shut; he hit his thumb and his heart became +filled with venom. + +"/Now/ look at what they went an' done!" he yelled, running around in +a circle. "Damned outrage!" + +"Huh!" snorted Cranky Joe with maddening superiority. "That ain't +nothing--just look at me!" + +Boggs looked, very fixedly, and showed signs of apoplexy, and Cranky +Joe returned to his end of the room to resume his soliloquy. + +"Why don't you come out an' take them cows!" inquired an unkind voice +from without. "Ain't changed yore mind, have you?" + +"We'll give you a drink for half a cent a head--that's the regular +price for watering cows," called another. + +The faint ripple of mirth which ran around the plain was lost in +opinions loudly expressed within the room; and Boggs, tears of rage in +his eyes, flung himself down on a chair and invented new terms for +describing human beings. + +John Terry was observing. He had been fluttering around the north +window, constantly getting bolder, and had not been disturbed. When he +withdrew his sombrero and found that it was intact he smiled to +himself and leaned his elbows on the sill, looking carefully around +the plain. The discovery that there was no cover on the north side +cheered him greatly and he called to Boggs, outlining a plan of +action. + +Boggs listened intently and then smiled for the first time since dawn. +"Bully for you, Terry!" he enthused. "Wait till dark--we'll fool 'em." + +A bullet chipped the 'dobe at Terry's side and he ducked as he leaped +back. "From an angle--what did I tell you?" he laughed. "We'll drop +out here an' sneak behind the house after dark. They'll be watching +the door--an' they won't be able to see us, anyhow." + +Boggs sucked his thumb tenderly and grinned. "After which--," he +elated. + +"After which--," gravely repeated Terry, the others echoing it with +unrestrained joy. + +"Then, mebby, I can get a drink," chuckled Larkin, brightening under +the thought. + +"The moon comes up at ten," warned a voice. "It'll be full to-night-- +an' there ain't many clouds in sight." + +"/Ol' King Cole was a merry ol' soul/," hummed McQuade, lightly. + +"An'--a--merry--ol'--soul--was--he!--was--he!" thundered the chorus, +deep-toned and strong. "/He had a wife for every toe, an' some toes +counted three!/" + +"Listen!" cried Meade, holding up his hand. + +"/An' every wife had sixteen dogs, an' every dog a flea!/" shouted a +voice from the besiegers, followed by a roar of laughter. + +The hilarity continued until dark, only stopping when John Terry +slipped out of the window, dropped to all-fours and stuck his head +around the corner of the rear wall. He saw many stars and was silently +handed to Pete Wilson. + +"What was that noise?" exclaimed Boggs in a low tone. "Are you all +right, Terry?" he asked, anxiously. + +Three knocks on the wall replied to his question and then McQuade went +out, and three more knocks were heard. + +"Wonder why they make that funny noise," muttered Boggs. + +"Bumped inter something, I reckon," replied Jim Larkin. "Get out of my +way--I'm next." + +Boggs listened intently and then pushed Duke Lane back. "Don't like +that--sounds like a crack on the head. Hey, Jim! /Say/ something!" he +called softly. The three knocks were repeated, but Boggs was +suspicious and he shook his head decisively. "To 'ell with the +knocking--/say/ something!" + +"Still got them twelve men?" asked a strange voice, pleasantly. + +"/An' every dog a flea/," hummed another around the corner. + +"Hell!" shouted Boggs. "To the door, fellers! To the door--quick!" + +A whistle shrilled from behind the house and a leaden tattoo began on +the door. "Other window!" whispered O'Neill. The foreman got there +before him and, shoving his Colt out first to clear the way, yelled +with rage and pain as a pole hit his wrist and knocked the weapon out +of his hand. He was still commenting when Duke Lane pried open the +door and, dropping quickly on his stomach, wriggled out, followed +closely by Charley Beal and Tim. At that instant the tattoo drummed +with greater vigor and such a hail of lead poured in through the +opening that the door was promptly closed, leaving the three men +outside to shift for themselves with the darkness their only cover. + +Duke and his companions whispered together as they lay flat and agreed +upon a plan of action. Going around the ends of the house was suicide +and no better than waiting for the rising moon to show them to the +enemy; but there was no reason why the roof could not be utilized. Tim +and Charley boosted Duke up, then Tim followed, and the pair on the +roof pulled Charley to their side. Flat roofs were great institutions +they decided as they crawled cautiously towards the other side. This +roof was of hard, sun-baked adobe, over two feet thick, and they did +not care if their friends shot up on a gamble. + +"Fine place, all right," thought Charley, grinning broadly. Then he +turned an agonized face to Tim, his chest rising. "/Hitch! Hitch!/" he +choked, fighting with all his will to master it. "/Hitch-chew! Hitch- +chew! Hitch-chew!/" he sneezed, loudly. There was a scramble below and +a ripple of mirth floated up to them. + +"/Hitch-chew/?" jeered a voice. "What do we want to hit you for?" + +"Look us over, children," invited another. + +"Wait until the moon comes up," chuckled the third. "Be like knocking +the nigger baby down for Red an' the others. Ladies and gents: We'll +now have a little sketch entitled 'Shooting snipe by moonlight.'" + +"Jack-snipe, too," laughed Pete. "Will somebody please hold the bag?" + +The silence on the roof was profound and the three on the ground tried +again. + +"Let me call yore attention to the trained coyotes, ladies an' gents," +remarked Johnny in a deep, solemn voice. "Coyotes are not birds; they +do not roost on roofs as a general thing; but they are some +intelligent an' can be trained to do lots of foolish tricks. These +ani-mules were--" + +"Step this way, people; on-ly ten cents, two nickels," interrupted +Pete. "They bark like dogs, an' howl like hell." + +"Shut up!" snapped Tim, angrily. + +"After the moon comes up," said Hopalong, "when you fellers get tired +dodging, you can chuck us yore guns an' come down. An' don't forget +that this side of the house is much the safest," he warned. + +"Go to hell!" snarled Duke, bitterly. + +"Won't; they're laying for me down there." + +Johnny crawled to the north end of the wall and, looking cautiously +around the corner, funnelled his hands: "On the roof, Red! On the +roof!" + +"Yes, dear," was the reply, followed by gun-shots. + +"Hey! Move over!" snapped Tim, working towards the edge furthest from +the cheerful Red, whose bullets were not as accurate in the dark as +they promised to become in a few minutes when the moon should come up. + +"Want to shove me off?" snarled Charley, angrily. "For heaven's sake, +Duke, do you want the whole earth?" he demanded of his second +companion. + +"You just bet yore shirt I do! An' I want a hole in it, too!" + +"Ain't you got no sense?" + +"Would I be up here if I had?" + +"It's going to be hot as blazes up here when the sun gets high," +cheerfully prophesied Tim: "an' dry, too," he added for a finishing +touch. + +"We'll be lucky if we're live enough to worry about the sun's heat-- +/say/, that was a /close/ one!" exclaimed Duke, frantically trying to +flatten a little more. "Ah, thought so--there's that blamed moon!" + +"Wish I'd gone out the window instead," growled Charley, worming +behind Duke, to the latter's prompt displeasure. + +"You fellers better come down, one at a time," came from below. "Send +yore guns down first, too. Red's a blamed good shot." + +"Hope he croaks," muttered Duke. "/That's/ closer yet!" + +Tim's hand raised and a flash of fire singed Charley's hair. "Got to +do something, anyhow," he explained, lowering the Colt and peering +across the plain. + +"You damned near succeeded!" shouted Charley, grabbing at his head. +"Why, they're three hundred, an' you trying for 'em with a--/oh!/" he +moaned, writhing. + +"Locoed fool!" swore Duke, "showing 'em where we are! They're doing +good enough as it is! You ought--got /you/, too!" + +"/I'm/ going down--that blamed fool out there ain't caring what he +hits," mumbled Charley, clenching his hands from pain. He slid over +the edge and Pete grabbed him. + +"Next," suggested Pete, expectantly. + +Tim tossed his Colt over the edge. "Here's another," he swore, +following the weapon. He was grabbed and bound in a trice. + +"When may we expect you, Mr. Duke?" asked Johnny, looking up. + +"Presently, friend, presently. I want to--/wow/!" he finished, and +lost no time in his descent, which was meteoric. "That feller'll +/kill/ somebody if he ain't careful!" he complained as Pete tied his +hands behind his back. + +"You wait till daylight an' see," cheerily replied Pete as the three +were led off to join their friends in the corral. + +There was no further action until the sun arose and then Hopalong +hailed the house and demanded a parley, and soon he and Boggs met +midway between the shack and the line. + +"What d'you want?" asked Boggs, sullenly. + +"Want you to stop this farce so I can go on with my drive." + +"Well, I ain't holding you!" exploded the 4X foreman. + +"Oh, yes; but you are. I can't let you an' yore men out to hang on our +flanks an' worry us; an' I don't want to hold you in that shack till +you all die of thirst, or come out to be all shot up. Besides, I can't +fool around here for a week; I got business to look after." + +"Don't you worry about us dying with thirst; that ain't worrying us +none." + +"I heard different," replied Hopalong, smiling. "Them fellers in the +corral drank a quart apiece. See here, Boggs; you can't win, an' you +know it. Yo're not bucking me, but the whole range, the whole country. +It's a fight between conditions--the fence idea agin the open range +idea, an' open trails. The fence will lose. You closed a drive trail +that's 'most as old as cow-raising. Will the punchers of this part of +the country stand for it? Suppose you lick us,--which you won't--can +you lick all the rest of us, the JD, Wallace's, Double-Arrow, C-80, +Cross-O-Cross, an' the others! That's just what it amounts to, an' you +better stop right now, before somebody gets killed. You know what that +means in this section. Yo're six to our eight, you ain't got a drink +in that shack, an' you dasn't try to get one. You can't do a thing +agin us, an' you know it." + +Boggs rested his hands on his hips and considered, Hopalong waiting +for him to reply. He knew that the Bar-20 man was right but he hated +to admit it, he hated to say he was whipped. + +"Are any of them six hurt?" he finally asked. + +"Only scratches an' sore heads," responded Hopalong, smiling. "We +ain't tried to kill anybody, yet. I'm putting that up to you." + +Boggs made no reply and Hopalong continued: "I got six of yore twelve +men prisoners, an' all yore cayuses are in my han's. I'll shoot every +animal before I'll leave 'em for you to use against me, an' I'll take +enough of yore cows to make up for what I lost by that fence. You've +got to pay for them dead cows, anyhow. If I do let you out you'll have +to road-brand me two hundred, or pay cash. My herd ain't worrying me-- +it's moving all the time. It's through that other fence by now. An' if +I have to keep my outfit here to pen you in or shoot you off I can +send to the JD for a gang to push the herd. Don't make no mistake: +yo're getting off easy. Suppose one of my men had been killed at the +fence--what then?" + +"Well, what do you want me to do?" + +"Stop this foolishness an' take down them fences for a mile each side +of the trail. If Buck has to come up here the whole thing'll go down. +Road-brand me two hundred of yore three-year-olds. Now as soon as you +agree, an' say that the fight's over, it will be. You can't win out; +an' what's the use of having yore men killed off?" + +"I hate to quit," replied the other, gloomily. + +"I know how that is; but yo're wrong on this question, dead wrong. You +don't own this range or the trail. You ain't got no right to close +that old drive trail. Honest, now; have you?" + +"You say them six ain't hurt?" + +"No more'n I said." + +"An' if I give in will you treat my men right?" + +"Shore." + +"When will you leave." + +"Just as soon as I get them two hundred three-year-olds." + +"Well, I hate a quitter; but I can't do nothing, nohow," mused the 4X +foreman. He cleared his throat and turned to look at the house. "All +right; when you get them cows you get out of here, an' don't never +come back!" + +Hopalong flung his arm with a shout to his men and the other kicked +savagely at an inoffensive stick and slouched back to his bunk house, +a beaten man. + + + + CHAPTER XXIII + + TEX EWALT HUNTS TROUBLE + +Not more than a few weeks after the Bar-20 drive outfit returned to +the ranch a solitary horseman pushed on towards the trail they had +followed, bound for Buckskin and the Bar-20 range. His name was Tex +Ewalt and he cordially hated all of the Bar-20 outfit and Hopalong in +particular. He had nursed a grudge for several years and now, as he +rode south to rid himself of it and to pay a long-standing debt, it +grew stronger until he thrilled with anticipation and the sauce of +danger. This grudge had been acquired when he and Slim Travennes had +enjoyed a duel with Hopalong Cassidy up in Santa Fe, and had been +worsted; it had increased when he learned of Slim's death at Cactus +Springs at the hands of Hopalong; and, some time later, hearing that +two friends of his, "Slippery" Trendley and "Deacon" Rankin, with +their gang, had "gone out" in the Panhandle with the same man and his +friends responsible for it, Tex hastened to Muddy Wells to even the +score and clean his slate. Even now his face burned when he remembered +his experiences on that never-to-be-forgotten occasion. He had been +played with, ridiculed, and shamed, until he fled from the town as a +place accursed, hating everything and everybody. It galled him to +think that he had allowed Buck Peters' momentary sympathy to turn him +from his purpose, even though he was convinced that the foreman's +action had saved his life. And now Tex was returning, not to Muddy +Wells, but to the range where the Bar-20 outfit held sway. + +Several years of clean living had improved Tex, morally and +physically. The liquor he had once been in the habit of consuming had +been reduced to a negligible quantity; he spent the money on +cartridges instead, and his pistol work showed the results of careful +and dogged practice, particularly in the quickness of the draw. +Punching cows on a remote northern range had repaid him in health far +more than his old game of living on his wits and other people's lack +of them, as proved by his clear eye and the pink showing through the +tan above his beard; while his somber, steady gaze, due to long-held +fixity of purpose, indicated the resourcefulness of a perfectly +reliable set of nerves. His low-hung holster tied securely to his +trousers leg to assure smoothness in drawing, the restrained swing of +his right hand, never far from the well-worn scabbard which sheathed a +triggerless Colt's "Frontier"--these showed the confident and ready +gun-man, the man who seldom missed. "Frontiers" left the factory with +triggers attached, but the absence of that part did not always +incapacitate a weapon. Some men found that the regular method was too +slow, and painstakingly cultivated the art of thumbing the hammer. +"Thumbing" was believed to save the split second so valuable to a man +in argument with his peers. Tex was riding with the set purpose of +picking a fair fight with the best six-shooter expert it had ever been +his misfortune to meet, and he needed that split second. He knew that +he needed it and the knowledge thrilled him with a peculiar elation; +he had changed greatly in the past year and now he wanted an "even +break" where once he would have called all his wits into play to avoid +it. He had found himself and now he acknowledged no superior in +anything. + +On his way south he met and talked with men who had known him, the old +Tex, in the days when he had made his living precariously. They did +not recognize him behind his beard, and he was content to let the +oversight pass. But from these few he learned what he wished to know, +and he was glad that Hopalong Cassidy was where he had always been, +and that his gun-work had improved rather than depreciated with the +passing of time. He wished to prove himself master of The Master, and +to be hailed as such by those who had jeered and laughed at his +ignominy several years before. So he rode on day after day, smiling +and content, neither under-rating nor over-rating his enemy's ability +with one weapon, but trying to think of him as he really was. He knew +that if there was any difference between Hopalong Cassidy and himself +that it must be very slight--perhaps so slight as to result fatally to +both; but if that were so then it would have to work out as it saw fit +--he at least would have accomplished what many, many others had +failed in. + + + +In the little town of Buckskin, known hardly more than locally, and +never thought of by outsiders except as the place where the Bar-20 +spent their spare time and money, and neutral ground for the +surrounding ranches, was Cowan's saloon, in the dozen years of its +existence the scene of good stories, boisterous fun, and quick deaths. +Put together roughly, of crude materials, sticking up in inartistic +prominence on the dusty edge of a dustier street; warped, bleached by +the sun, and patched with boards ripped from packing cases and with +the flattened sides of tin cans; low of ceiling, the floor one huge +brown discoloration of spring, creaking boards, knotted and split and +worn into hollows, the unpretentious building offered its hospitality +to all who might be tempted by the scrawled, sprawled lettering of its +sign. The walls were smoke-blackened, pitted with numerous small and +clear-cut holes, and decorated with initials carelessly cut by men who +had come and gone. + +Such was Cowan's, the best patronized place in many hot and dusty +miles and the Mecca of the cowboys from the surrounding ranches. Often +at night these riders of the range gathered in the humble building and +told tales of exceeding interest; and on these occasions one might see +a row of ponies standing before the building, heads down and quiet. It +is strange how alike cow-ponies look in the dim light of the stars. On +the south side of the saloon, weak, yellow lamp light filtered through +the dirt on the window panes and fell in distorted patches on the +plain, blotched in places by the shadows of the wooden substitutes for +glass. + +It was a moonlight night late in the fall, after the last beef round- +up was over and the last drive outfit home again, that two cow-ponies +stood in front of Cowan's while their owners lolled against the bar +and talked over the latest sensation--the fencing in of the West +Valley range, and the way Hopalong Cassidy and his trail outfit had +opened up the old drive trail across it. The news was a month old, but +it was the last event of any importance and was still good to laugh +over. + +"Boys," remarked the proprietor, "I want you to meet Mr. Elkins. He +came down that trail last week, an' he didn't see no fence across it." +The man at the table arose slowly. "Mr. Elkins, this is Sandy Lucas, +an' Wood Wright, of the C-80. Mr. Elkins here has been a-looking over +the country, sizing up what the beef prospects will be for next year; +an' he knows all about wire fences. Here's how," he smiled, treating +on the house. + +Mr. Elkins touched the glass to his bearded lips and set it down +untasted while he joked over the sharp rebuff so lately administered +to wire fences in that part of the country. While he was an ex-cow- +puncher he believed that he was above allowing prejudice to sway his +judgment, and it was his opinion, after careful thought, that barb +wire was harmful to the best interests of the range. He had ridden +over a great part of the cattle country in the last few yeas, and +after reviewing the existing conditions as he understood them, his +verdict must go as stated, and emphatically. He launched gracefully +into a slowly delivered and lengthy discourse upon the subject, which +proved to be so entertaining that his companions were content to +listen and nod with comprehension. They had never met any one who was +so well qualified to discuss the pros and cons of the barb-wire fence +question, and they learned many things which they had never heard +before. This was very gratifying to Mr. Elkins, who drew largely upon +hearsay, his own vivid imagination, and a healthy logic. He was very +glad to talk to men who had the welfare of the range at heart, and he +hoped soon to meet the man who had taken the initiative in giving barb +wire its first serious setback on that rich and magnificent southern +range. + +"You shore ought to meet Cassidy--he's a fine man," remarked Lucas +with enthusiasm. "You'll not find any better, no matter where you +look. But you ain't touched yore liquor," he finished with surprise. + +"You'll have to excuse me, gentlemen," replied Mr. Elkins, smiling +deprecatingly. "When a man likes it as much as I do it ain't very easy +to foller instructions an' let it alone. Sometimes I almost break +loose an' indulge, regardless of whether it kills me or not. I reckon +it'll get me yet." He struck the bar a resounding blow with his +clenched hand. "But I ain't going to cave in till I has to!" + +"That's purty tough," sympathized Wood Wright, reflectively. "I ain't +so very much taken with it, but I know I would be if I knowed I +couldn't have any." + +"Yes, that's human nature, all right," laughed Lucas. "That reminds me +of a little thing that happened to me once--" + +"Listen!" exclaimed Cowan, holding up his hand for silence. "I reckon +that's the Bar-20 now, or some of it--sounds like them when they're +feeling frisky. There's allus something happening when them fellers +are around." + +The proprietor was right, as proved a moment later when Johnny Nelson, +continuing his argument, pushed open the door and entered the room. "I +didn't neither; an' you know it!" he flung over his shoulder. + +"Then who did?" demanded Hopalong, chuckling. "Why, hullo, boys," he +said, nodding to his friends at the bar. "Nobody else would do a fool +thing like that; nobody but you, Kid," he added, turning to Johnny. + +"I don't care a hang what you think; I say I didn't an'--" + +"He shore did, all right; I seen him just afterward," laughed Billy +Williams, pressing close upon Hopalong's heels. "Howdy, Lucas; an' +there's that ol' coyote, Wood Wright. How's everybody feeling?" + +"Where's the rest of you fellers?" inquired Cowan. + +"Stayed home to-night," replied Hopalong. + +"Got any loose money, you two?" asked Billy, grinning at Lucas and +Wright. + +"I reckon we have--an' our credit's good if we ain't. We're good for a +dollar or two, ain't we, Cowan?" replied Lucas. + +"Two dollars an' four bits," corrected Cowan. "I'll raise it to three +dollars even when you pay me that 'leven cents you owe me." + +"'Leven cents? What 'leven cents?" + +"Postage stamps an' envelope for that love letter you writ." + +"Go to blazes; that wasn't no love letter!" snorted Lucas, +indignantly. "That was my quarterly report. I never did write no love +letters, nohow." + +"We'll trim you fellers to-night, if you've got the nerve to play us," +grinned Johnny, expectantly. + +"Yes; an' we've got that, too. Give us the cards, Cowan," requested +Wood Wright, turning. "They won't give us no peace till we take all +their money away from 'em." + +"Open game," prompted Cowan, glancing meaningly at Elkins, who stood +by idly looking on, and without showing much interest in the scene. + +"Shore! Everybody can come in what wants to," replied Lucas, heartily, +leading the others to the table. "I allus did like a six-handed game +best--all the cards are out an' there's some excitement in it." + +When the deal began Elkins was seated across the table from Hopalong, +facing him for the first time since that day over in Muddy Wells, and +studying him closely. He found no changes, for the few years had left +no trace of their passing on the Bar-20 puncher. The sensation of +facing the man he had come south expressly to kill did not interfere +with Elkins' card-playing ability for he played a good game; and as if +the Fates were with him it was Hopalong's night off as far as poker +was concerned, for his customary good luck was not in evidence. That +instinctive feeling which singles out two duellists in a card game was +soon experienced by the others, who were careful, as became good +players, to avoid being caught between them; in consequence, when the +game broke up, Elkins had most of Hopalong's money. At one period of +his life Elkins had lived on poker for five years, and lived well. But +he gained more than money in this game, for he had made friends with +the players and placed the first wire of his trap. Of those in the +room Hopalong alone treated him with reserve, and this was cleverly +swung so that it appeared to be caused by a temporary grouch due to +the sting of defeat. As the Bar-20 man was known to be given to moods +at times this was accepted as the true explanation and gave promise of +hotly contested games for revenge later on. The banter which the +defeated puncher had to endure stirred him and strengthened the +reserve, although he was careful not to show it. + +When the last man rode off, Elkins and the proprietor sought their +bunks without delay, the former to lie awake a long time, thinking +deeply. He was vexed at himself for failing to work out an acceptable +plan of action, one that would show him to be in the right. He would +gain nothing more than glory, and pay too dearly for it, if he killed +Hopalong and was in turn killed by the dead man's friends--and he +believed that he had become acquainted with the quality of the +friendship which bound the units of the Bar-20 outfit into a smooth, +firm whole. They were like brothers, like one man. Cassidy must do the +forcing as far as appearances went, and be clearly in the wrong before +the matter could be settled. + +The next week was a busy one for Elkins, every day finding him in the +saddle and riding over some one of the surrounding ranches with one or +more of its punchers for company. In this way he became acquainted +with the men who might be called on to act as his jury when the +showdown came, and he proceeded to make friends of them in a manner +that promised success. And some of his suggestions for the improvement +of certain conditions on the range, while they might not work out +right in the long run, compelled thought and showed his interest. His +remarks on the condition and numbers of cattle were the same in +substance in all cases and showed that he knew what he was talking +about, for the punchers were all very optimistic about the next year's +showing in cattle. + +"If you fellers don't break all records for drive herds of quality +next year I don't know nothing about cows; an' I shore don't know +nothing else," he told the foreman of the Bar-20, as they rode +homeward after an inspection of that ranch. "There'll be more dust +hanging over the drive trails leading from this section next year when +spring drops the barriers than ever before. You needn't fear for the +market, neither--prices will stand. The north an' central ranges ain't +doing what they ought to this year--it'll be up to you fellers down +south, here, to make that up; an' you can do it." This was not a +guess, but the result of thought and study based on the observations +he had made on his ride south, and from what he had learned from +others along the way. It paralleled Buck's own private opinion, +especially in regard to the southern range; and the vague suspicions +in the foreman's mind disappeared for good and all. + +Needless to say Elkins was a welcome visitor at the ranch houses and +was regarded as a good fellow. At the Bar-20 he found only two men who +would not thaw to him, and he was possessed of too much tact to try +any persuasive measures. One was Hopalong, whose original cold reserve +seemed to be growing steadily, the Bar-20 puncher finding in Elkins a +personality that charged the atmosphere with hostility and quietly +rubbed him the wrong way. Whenever he was in the presence of the +newcomer he felt the tugging of an irritating and insistent antagonism +and he did not always fully conceal it. John Bartlett, Lucas, and one +or two of the more observing had noticed it and they began to prophesy +future trouble between the two. The other man who disliked Elkins was +Red Connors; but what was more natural? Red, being Hopalong's closest +companion, would be very apt to share his friend's antipathy. On the +other hand, as if to prove Hopalong's dislike to be unwarranted, +Johnny Nelson swung far to the other extreme and was frankly +enthusiastic in his liking for the cattle scout. And Johnny did not +pour oil on the waters when he laughingly twitted Hopalong for +allowing "a licking at cards to make him sore." This was the idea that +Elkins was quietly striving to have generally accepted. + +The affair thus hung fire, Elkins chafing at the delay and cautiously +working for an opening, which at last presented itself, to be promptly +seized. By a sort of mutual, unspoken agreement, the men in Cowan's +that night passed up the cards and sat swapping stories. Cowan, +swearing at a smoking lamp, looked up with a grin and burned his +fingers as a roar of laughter marked the point of a droll reminiscence +told by Bartlett. + +"That's a good story, Bartlett," Elkins remarked, slowing refilling +his pipe. "Reminds me of the lame Greaser, Hippy Joe, an' the canned +oysters. They was both bad, an' neither of 'em knew it till they came +together. It was like this. . . ." The malicious side glance went +unseen by all but Hopalong, who stiffened with the raging suspicion of +being twitted on his own deformity. The humor of the tale failed to +appeal to him, and when his full senses returned Lucas was in the +midst of the story of the deadly game of tag played in a ten-acre lot +of dense underbrush by two of his old-time friends. It was a tale of +gripping interest and his auditors were leaning forward in their +eagerness not to miss a word. "An' Pierce won," finished Lucas; "some +shot up, but able to get about. He was all right in a couple of weeks. +But he was bound to win; he could shoot all around Sam Hopkins." + +"But the best shot won't allus win in that game," commented Elkins. +"That's one of the minor factors." + +"Yes, sir! It's /luck/ that counts there," endorsed Bartlett, quickly. +"Luck, nine times out of ten." + +"Best shot ought to win," declared Skinny Thompson. "It ain't all +luck, nohow. Where'd I be against Hoppy, there?" + +"Won't neither!" cried Johnny, excitedly. "The man who sees the other +first wins out. That's wood-craft, an' brains." + +"Aw! What do you know about it, anyhow?" demanded Lucas. "If he can't +shoot so good what chance has he got--if he misses the first try, what +then?" + +"What chance has he got! First chance, miss or no miss. If he can't +see the other first, where the devil does his good shooting come in?" + +"Huh!" snorted Wood Wright, belligerently. "Any fool can /see/, but he +can't /shoot/! An' it's as much luck as wood-craft, too, an' don't you +forget it!" + +"The first shot don't win, Johnny; not in a game like that, with all +the dodging an' ducking," remarked Red. "You can't put one where you +want it when a feller's slipping around in the brush. It's the most +that counts, an' the best shot gets in the most. I wouldn't want to +have to stand up against Hoppy an' a short gun, not in that game; no, +sir!" and Red shook his head with decision. + +The argument waxed hot. With the exception of Hopalong, who sat +silently watchful, every one spoke his opinion and repeated it without +regard to the others. It appeared that in this game, the man with the +strongest lungs would eventually win out, and each man tried to show +his superiority in that line. Finally, above the uproar, Cowan's +bellow was herd, and he kept it up until some notice was taken of it. +"Shut up! /Shut up/! For God's sake, /quit/! Never saw such a bunch of +tinder--let somebody drop a cold, burned-out match in this gang, an' +hell's to pay. Here, /all/ of you, play cards an' forget about cross- +tag in the scrub. You'll be arguing about playing marbles in the dark +purty soon!" + +"All right," muttered Johnny, "but just the same, the man who--" + +"Never mind about the man who! Did you hear /me/?" yelled Cowan, +swiftly reaching for a bucket of water. "/This/ is a game where /I/ +gets the most in, an' don't forget it!" + +"Come on; play cards," growled Lucas, who did not relish having his +decision questioned on his own story. Undoubtedly somewhere in the +wide, wide world there was such a thing as common courtesy, but none +of it had ever strayed onto that range. + +The chairs scraped on the rough floor as the men pulled up to a table. +"I don't care a hang," came Elkins' final comment as he shuffled the +cards with careful attention. "I'm not any fancy Colt expert, but I'm +damned if I won't take a chance in that game with any man as totes a +gun. Leastawise, of /course/, I wouldn't take no such advantage of a +lame man." + +The effect would have been ludicrous but for its deadly significance. +Cowan, stooping to go under the bar, remained in that hunched-up +attitude, his every faculty concentrated in his ears; the match on its +way to the cigarette between Red's lips was held until it burned his +fingers, when it was dropped from mere reflex action, the hand still +stiffly aloft; Lucas, half in and half out of his chair, seemed to +have got just where he intended, making no effort to seat himself. +Skinny Thompson, his hand on his gun, seemed paralyzed; his mouth was +open to frame a reply that never was uttered and he stared through +narrowed eyelids at the blunderer. The sole movement in the room was +the slow rising of Hopalong and the markedly innocent shuffling of the +cards by Elkins, who appeared to be entirely ignorant of the weight +and effect of his words. He dropped the pack for the cut and then +looked up and around as if surprised by the silence and the +expressions he saw. + +Hopalong stood facing him, leaning over with both hands on the table. +His voice, when he spoke, rumbled up from his chest in a low growl. +"You won't /have/ no advantage, Elkins. Take it from me, you've had +yore last fling. I'm glad you made it plain, this time, so it's +something I can take hold of." He straightened slowly and walked to +the door, and an audible sigh sounded through the room as it was +realized that trouble was not immediately imminent. At the door he +paused and turned back around, looking back over his shoulder. "At +noon to-morrow I'm going to hoof it north through the brush between +the river an' the river trail, starting at the old ford a mile down +the river." He waited expectantly. + +"Me too--only the other way," was the instant rejoinder. "Have it yore +own way." + +Hopalong nodded and the closing door shut him out into the night. +Without a word the Bar-20 men arose and followed him, the only +hesitant being Johnny, who was torn between loyalty and new-found +friendship; but with a sorrowful shake of the head, he turned away and +passed out, not far behind the others. + +"Clannish, ain't they?" remarked Elkins, gravely. + +Those remaining were regarding him sternly, questioningly, Cowan with +a deep frown darkening his face. "You hadn't ought to 'a' said that, +Elkins." The reproof was almost an accusation. + +Elkins looked steadily at the speaker. "You hadn't ought to 'a' let me +say it," he replied. "How did I know he was so touchy?" His gaze left +Cowan and lingered in turn on each of the others. "Some of you ought +to 'a' told me. I wouldn't 'a' said it only for what I said just +before, an' I didn't want him to think I was challenging him to no +duel in the brush. So I says so, an' then he goes an' takes it up that +I /am/ challenging him. I ain't got no call to fight with nobody. +Ain't I tried to keep out of trouble with him ever since I've been +here? Ain't I kept out of the poker games on his account? Ain't I?" +The grave, even tones were dispassionate, without a trace of animus +and serenely sure of justice. + +The faces around him cleared gradually and heads began to nod in +comprehending consent. + +"Yes, I reckon you have," agreed Cowan, slowly, but the frown was not +entirely gone. "Yes, I reckon--mebby--you have." + + + + CHAPTER XXIV + + THE MASTER + +It was noon by the sun when Hopalong and Red shook hands south of the +old ford and the former turned to enter the brush. Hopalong was cool +and ominously calm while his companion was the opposite. Red was +frankly suspicious of the whole affair and nursed the private opinion +that Mr. Elkins would lay in ambush and shoot his enemy down like a +dog. And Red had promised himself a dozen times that he would study +the signs around the scene of action if Hopalong should not come back, +and take a keen delight, if warranted, in shooting Mr. Elkins full of +holes with no regard for an even break. He was thinking the matter +over as his friend breasted the first line of brush and could not +refrain from giving a slight warning. "Get him, Hoppy," he called, +earnestly; "get him good. Let /him/ do some of the moving about. I'll +be here waiting for you." + +Hopalong smiled in reply and sprang forward, the leaves and branches +quickly shutting him from Red's sight. He had worked out his plan of +action the night before when he was alone and the world was still, and +as soon as he had it to his satisfaction he had dropped off to sleep +as easily as a child--it took more than gun-play to disturb his +nerves. He glanced about him to make sure of his bearings and then +struck on a curving line for the river. The first hundred yards were +covered with speed and then he began to move more slowly and with +greater regard for caution, keeping close to the earth and showing a +marked preference for low ground. Sky-lines were all right in times of +peace, but under the present conditions they promised to become +unhealthy. His eyes and ears told him nothing for a quarter of an +hour, and then he suddenly stopped short and crouched as he saw the +plain trail of a man crossing his own direction at a right angle. From +the bottom of one of the heel prints a crushed leaf was slowly rising +back towards its original position, telling him how new the trail was; +and as if this were not enough for his trained mind he heard a twig +snap sharply as he glanced along the line of prints. It sounded very +close, and he dropped instantly to one knee and thought quickly. Why +had the other left so plain a trail, why had he reached up and broken +twigs that projected above his head as he passed? Why had he kicked +aside a small stone, leaving a patch of moist, bleached grass to tell +where it had lain? Elkins had stumbled here, but there were no toe +marks to tell of it. Hopalong would not track, for he was no assassin; +but he knew that he would do if he were, and careless. The answer +leaped to his suspicious mind like a flash, and he did not care to +waste any time in trying to determine whether or not Elkins was +capable of such a trick. He acted on the presumption that the trail +had been made plain for a good reason, and that not far ahead at some +suitable place,--and there were any number of such within a hundred +yards,--the maker of the plain trail lay in wait. Smiling savagely he +worked backward and turning, struck off in a circle. He had no +compunctions whatever now about shooting the other player of the game. +It was not long before he came upon the same trail again and he +started another circle. A bullet /zipped/ past his ear and cut a twig +not two inches from his head. He fired at the smoke as he dropped, and +then wriggled rapidly backward, keeping as flat to the earth as he +could. Elkins had taken up his position in a thicket which stood in +the centre of a level patch of sand in the old bed of the river,--the +bed it had used five years before and forsaken at the time of the big +flood when it cut itself a new channel and made the U-bend which now +surrounded this piece of land on three sides. Even now, during the +rainy season, the thicket which sheltered Mr. Elkins was frequently an +island in a sluggish, shallow overflow. + +"Hole up, blast you!" jeered Hopalong, hugging the ground. The second +bullet from Mr. Elkins' gun cut another twig, this one just over his +head, and he laughed insolently. "I ain't ascared to do the moving, +even if you are. Judging from the way you keep out o' sight the canned +oysters are in the can again. /I/ never did no ambushing, you coyote." + +"You can't make remarks like that an' get away with 'em--I've knowed +you too long," retorted Elkins, shifting quickly, and none too soon. +"You went an' got Slim afore he was wide awake. I know /you/, all +right." + +Hopalong's surprise was but momentary, and his mind raced back over +the years. Who was this man Elkins, that he knew Slim Travennes? +"Yo're a liar, Elkins, an' so was the man who told you that!" + +"Call me Ewalt," jeered the other, nastily. "Nobody'll hear it, an' +you'll not live to tell it. Ewalt, Tex Ewalt; call me that." + +"So you've come back after all this time to make me get you, have you? +Well, I ain't a-going to shoot no buttons off you /this/ time. I allus +reckoned you learned something at Muddy Wells--but you'll learn it +here," Hopalong rejoined, sliding into a depression, and working with +great caution towards the dry river bed, where fallen trees and +hillocks of sand provided good cover in plenty. Everything was clear +now and despite the seriousness of the situation he could not repress +a smile as he remembered vividly that day at the carnival when Tex +Ewalt came to town with the determination to kill him and show him up +as an imitation. His grievance against Elkins was petty when compared +to that against Ewalt, and he began to force the issue. As he peered +over a stranded log he caught sight of his enemy disappearing into +another part of the thicket, and two of his three shots went home. +Elkins groaned with pain and fear as he realized that his right knee- +cap was broken and would make him slow in his movements. He was lamed +for life, even if he did come out of the duel alive; lamed in the same +way that Hopalong was--the affliction he had made cruel sport of had +come to him. But he had plenty of courage and he returned the fire +with remarkable quickness, his two shots sounding almost as one. + +Hopalong wiped the blood from his cheek and wormed his way to a new +place; when half way there he called out again, "How's yore health-- +Tex?" in mock sympathy. + +Elkins lied manfully and when he looked to get in another shot his +enemy was on the farther bank, moving up to get behind him. He did not +know Hopalong's new position until he raised his head to glance down +over the dried river bed, and was informed by a bullet that nicked his +ear. As he ducked, another grazed his head, the third going wild. He +hazarded a return shot, and heard Hopalong's laugh ring out again. + +"Like the story Lucas told, the best shot is going to win out this +time, too," the Bar-20 man remarked, grimly. "You thought a game like +this would give you some chance against a better shot, didn't you? You +are a fool." + +"It ain't over yet, not by a damned sight!" came the retort. + +"An' you thought you had a little the best of it if you stayed still +an' let me do the moving, didn't you? You'll learn something before I +get through with you: but it'll be too late to do you any good," +Hopalong called, crouched below a hillock of sand so the other could +not take advantage of the words and single him out for a shot. + +"You can't learn me nothing, you assassin; I've got my eyes open, this +time." He knew that he had had them open before, and that Hopalong was +in no way an assassin; but if he could enrage his enemy and sting him +into some reflex carelessness he might have the last laugh. + +Elkins' retort was wasted, for the sudden and unusual, although a +familiar sound, had caught Hopalong's ear and he was giving all his +attention to it. While he weighed it, his incredulity holding back the +decision his common sense was striving to give him, the noise grew +louder rapidly and common sense won out in a cry of warning an instant +before a five-foot wall of brown water burst upon his sight, sweeping +swiftly down the old, dry river bed; and behind it towered another and +greater wall. Tree trunks were dancing end over end in it as if they +were straws. + +"Cloud-burst!" he yelled. "Run, Tex! Run for yore life! Cloud-burst up +the valley! Run, you fool; /Run/!" + +Tex's sarcastic retort was cut short as he instinctively glanced +north, and his agonized curse lashed Hopalong forward. "Can't run-- +knee cap's busted! Can't swim, can't do--ah, hell--!" + +Hopalong saw him torn from his shelter and whisked down the raging +torrent like an arrow from a bow. The Bar-20 puncher leaped from the +bank, shot under the yellow flood and arose, gasping and choking many +yards downstream, fighting madly to get the muddy water out of his +throat and eyes. As he struck out with all his strength down the +current, he caught sight of Tex being torn from a jutting tree limb, +and he shouted encouragement and swam all the harder, if such a thing +were possible. Tex's course was checked for a moment by a boiling +back-current and as he again felt the pull of the rushing stream +Hopalong's hand gripped his collar and the fight for safety began. +Whirled against logs and stumps, drawn down by the weight of his +clothes and the frantic efforts of Tex to grasp him--fighting the +water and the man he was trying to save at the same time, his head +under water as often as it was out of it, and Tex's vise-like fingers +threatening him--he headed for the west shore against powerful cross- +currents that made his efforts seem useless. He seemed to get the +worst of every break. Once, when caught by a friendly current, they +were swung under an overhanging branch, but as Hopalong's hand shot up +to grasp it a submerged bush caught his feet and pulled him under, and +Tex's steel-like arms around his throat almost suffocated him before +he managed to beat the other into insensibility and break the hold. + +"I'll let you go!" he threatened; but his hand grasped the other's +collar all the tighter and his fighting jaw was set with greater +determination than ever. + +They shot out into the main stream, where the U-bend channel joined +the short-cut, and it looked miles wide to the exhausted puncher. He +was fighting only on his will now. He would not give up, though he +scarce could lift an arm, and his lungs seemed on fire. He did not +know whether Tex was dead or alive, but he would get the body ashore +with him, or go down trying. He bumped into a log and instinctively +grasped it. It turned, and when he came up again it was bobbing five +feet ahead of him. Ages seemed to pass before he flung his numb arm +over it and floated with it. He was not alone in the flood; a coyote +was pushing steadily across his path towards the nearer bank, and on a +gliding tree trunk crouched a frightened cougar, its ears flattened +and its sharp claws dug solidly through the bark. Here and there were +cattle and a snake wriggled smoothly past him, apparently as much at +home in the water as out of it. The log turned again and he just +managed to catch hold of it as he came up for the second time. + +Things were growing black before his eyes and strange, weird ideas and +images floated through his brain. When he regained some part of his +senses he saw ahead of him a long, curling crest of yellow water and +foam, and he knew, vaguely, that it was pouring over a bar. The next +instant his feet struck bottom and he fought his way blindly and +slowly, with the stubborn determination of his kind, towards the +brush-covered point twenty feet away. + +When he opened his eyes and looked around he became conscious of +excruciating pains and he closed them again to rest. His outflung hand +struck something that made him look around again, and he saw Tex +Ewalt, face down at his side. He released his grasp on the other's +collar and slowly the whole thing came to him, and then the necessity +for action, unless he wished to lose what he had fought so hard to +save. + +Anything short of the iron man Tex had become would have been dead +before this or have been finished by the mauling he now got from +Hopalong. But Tex groaned, gurgled a curse, and finally opened his +eyes upon his rescuer, who sank back with a grunt of satisfaction. +Slowly his intelligence returned as he looked steadily into Hopalong's +eyes, and with it came the realization of a strange truth: he did not +hate this man at all. Months of right living, days and nights of +honest labor shoulder to shoulder with men who respected him for his +ability and accepted him as one of themselves, had made a new man of +him, although the legacy of hatred from the old Tex had disguised him +from himself until now; but the new Tex, battered, shot-up, nearly +drowned, looked at his old enemy and saw him for the man he really +was. He smiled faintly and reached out his hand. + +"Cassidy, yo're the boss," he said. "Shake." + +They shook. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, BAR-20 DAYS *** + +This file should be named br20d10.txt or br20d10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, br20d11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, br20d10a.txt + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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