THE LIBRARY

UNI
VERSITY
19
OF THE
NIMINININ
OMNIBUS
ARTIOUS
SINA DE
SMNUNE
MINNESOTA
RE














BAR-20
Being a record of certain happenings that occurred in the
otherwise peaceful lives of one Hopalong Cassidy
and his companions on the range
By
CLARENCE EDWARD MULFCRD
WITH FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS BY
N. C. WYETH and F. E. SCHOONOVER
A. L. BURT COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
New YORK


Copyright, 1906, 1907 by
CHE OUTING PUBLISHING COMPANY
à
Entered at Stationer's Hall, London, England
All Rights Reserved
BAR-20
In compliance with current
copyright law, the Univer-
sity of Minnesota Bindery
produced this facsimile on
permanent-durable paper to
replace the irreparably
deteriorated original volume
owned by the University
Library


8lm 898
OB
BAR-20
CHAPTER I
BUCKSKIN
T
Ć
3-1-34 Dawson P.L, FIT*
"HE town lay sprawled over half a
square mile of alkali plain, its main
street depressing in its width, for those who
were responsible for its inception had worked
with a generosity born of the knowledge that
they had at their immediate and unchallenged
disposal the broad lands of Texas and New
Mexico on which to assemble a grand total
of twenty buildings, four of which were of
wood. As this material was scarce, and had
to be brought from where the waters of the
Gulf lapped against the flat coast, the last-
mentioned buildings were a matter of local
pride, as indicating the progressiveness of
their owners. These creations of hammer
and saw were of one story, crude and
unpainted; their cheap weather sheathing
598960


BAR -20
warped and shrunken by the pitiless sun,
curled back on itself and allowed unrestricted
entrance to alkali dust and air. The other
shacks were of adobe, and reposed in that
magnificent squalor dear to their owners, In-
dians and “Greasers."
It was an incident of the Cattle Trail, that
most unique and stupendous of all modern
migrations, and its founders must have been
inspired with a malicious desire to perpetrate
a crime against geography, or else they rev-
1 eled in a perverse cussedness, for within a
mile on every side lay broad prairies, and two
miles to the east flowed the indolent waters
of the Rio Pecos itself. The distance sepa-
rating the town from the river was excusable,
for at certain seasons of the year the placid
stream swelled mightily and swept down in a
broad expanse of turbulent, yellow flood.
Buckskin was a town of one hundred inhab-
itants, located in the valley of the Rio Pecos
fifty miles south of the Texas-New Mexico
line. The census claimed two hundred, but
it was a well-known fact that it was exagger-
ated. One instance of this is shown at the
2


BUCKSKIN
name of Tom Flynn. Those who once knew
Tom Flynn, alias Johnny Redmond, alias
Bill Sweeney, alias Chuck Mullen, by all four
names, could find them in the census list.
Furthermore, he had been shot and killed in
the March of the year preceding the census,
and now occupied a grave in the young but
flourishing cemetery. Perry's Bend, twenty
miles up the river, was cognizant of this and
other facts, and, laughing in open derision at
the padded list, claimed to be the better town
in all ways, including marksmanship.
One year before this tale opens, Buck
Peters, an example for the more recent Billy
the Kid, had paid Perry's Bend a short but
busy visit. He had ridden in at the north end
of Main street and out at the south. As he
came in he was fired at by a group of ugly
cowboys from a ranch known as the C 80.
He was hit twice, but he unlimbered his
artillery, and before his horse had carried
him, half dead, out on the prairie, he had
killed one of the group. Several citizens had
joined the cowboys and added their bullets
against Buck. The deceased had been the
2
3


BAR 20
best bartender in the country, and the rage of
the suffering citizens can well be imagined.
They swore vengeance on Buck, his ranch,
and his stamping ground.
The difference between Buck and Billy the
Kid is that the former never shot a man who
was not trying to shoot him, or who had not
been warned by some action against Buck
that would call for it. He minded his own
business, never picked a quarrel, and was
quiet and pacific up to a certain point. After
that had been passed he became like a raging
cyclone in a tenement house, and storm-cellars
were much in demand.
“Fanning" is the name of a certain style
of gun play and was universal among the bad
men of the West. While Buck was not a
bad man, he had to rub elbows with them fre-
quently, and he believed that the sauce for
the goose was the sauce for the gander. So
he had removed the trigger of his revolver
and worked the hammer with the thumb of
gun hand” or the thumb of the unin-
cumbered hand. The speed thus acquired
was greater than that of the more modern
}
the "
4


BUCKSKIN
double-action weapon. Six shots in three sec-
onds was his average speed when that number
was required, and when it is thoroughly
understood that at least five of them found
their intended billets it is not difficult to realize
that fanning was an operation of danger
when Buck was doing it.
He was a good rider, as all cowboys are,
and was not afraid of anything that lived.
At one time he and his chums, Red Connors
and Hopalong Cassidy, had successfully
routed a band of fifteen Apaches who wanted
their scalps. Of these, twelve never hunted
scalps again, nor anything else on this earth,
and the other three returned to their tribe
with the report that three evil spirits had
chased them with “wheel guns” (cannons).
So now, since his visit to Perry's Bend, the
rivalry of the two towns had turned to hatred
and an alert and eager readiness to increase
the inhabitants of each other's graveyard. A
state of war existed, which for a time resulted
in nothing worse than acrimonious sugges-
tions. But the time came when the score was
settled to the satisfaction of one side, at least.
in


BAR_20
As no
Four ranches were also concerned in the
trouble. Buckskin was surrounded by two,
the Bar 20 and the Three Triangle. Perry's
Bend was the common point for the C 80
and the Double Arrow. Each of the two
ranch contingents accepted the feud as a mat-
ter of course, and as a matter of course took
sides with their respective towns.
better class of fighters ever lived, the trouble
assumed Homeric proportions and insured a
danger zone well worth watching.
Bar-20's northern line was C 80's southern
one, and Skinny Thompson took his turn at
outriding one morning after the season's
round-up. He was to follow the boundary
and turn back stray cattle. When he had
covered the greater part of his journey he
saw Shorty Jones riding toward him on a
course parallel to his own and about long
revolver range away. Shorty and he had
"crossed trails " the year before and the best
of feelings did not exist between them.
Shorty stopped and stared at Skinny, who
did likewise at Shorty. Shorty turned his
6


BUCKSKIN
mount around and applied the spurs, thereby
causing his indignant horse to raise both heels
at Skinny. The latter took it all in gravely
and, as Shorty faced him again, placed his
left thumb to his nose, wiggling his fingers
suggestively. Shorty took no apparent notice
of this but began to shout:
“Yu wants to keep yore busted-down cows -
on yore own side. They was all over us day
afore yisterday. I'm goin' to salt any more »
what comes over, and don't yu fergit it,
neither."
Thompson wigwagged with his fingers
again and shouted in reply: “Yu c'n salt all
yu wants to, but if I ketch yu adoin' it yu
won't have to work no more. An' I kin say
right here thet they's more C 80 cows over
here than they's Bar-20's over there."
Shorty reached for his revolver and yelled,
“ Yore a liar!"
Among the cowboys in particular and the
Westerners in general at that time, the three
suicidal terms, unless one was an expert in
drawing quick and shooting straight with one
7


BAR - 20
movement, were the words "liar," ** coward,”
and “thief." Any man who was ealled one
of these in earnest, and he was the judge, was
expected to shoot if he could and save his
life, for the words were seldom used without
a gun coming with them. The movement of
Shorty's hand toward his belt before the ap-
pellation reached him was enough for Skinny,
who let go at long range—and missed.
The two reports were as one. Both urged
their horses nearer and fired again. This time
Skinny's sombrero gave a sharp jerk and a
hole appeared in the crown. The third shot
of Skinny's sent the horse of the other to its
knees and then over on its side. Shorty very
promptly crawled behind it and, as he did so,
Skinny began a wide circle, firing at intervals
as Shorty's smoke cleared away.
Shorty had the best position for defense, as
he was in a shallow coulée, but he knew that
he could not leave it until his opponent had
either grown tired of the affair or had used up
his ammunition. Skinny knew it, too. Skinny
also knew that he could get back to the ranch
8


BUCKSKIN
house and lay in a supply of food and ammu-
nition and return before Shorty could cover
the twelve miles he had to go on foot.
Finally Thompson began to head for home.
He had carried the matter as far as he could
without it being murder. Too much time had
elapsed now, and, besides, it was before break-
fast and he was hungry. He would go away
and settle the score at some time when they
would be on equal terms.
He rode along the line for a mile and
chanced to look back. Two C 80 punchers
were riding after him, and as they saw him
turn and discover them they fired at him and
yelled. He rode on for some distance and
cautiously drew his rifle out of its long holster
at his right leg. Suddenly he turned around
in the saddle and fired twice. One of his
pursuers fell forward on the neck of his horse,
and his comrade turned to help him. Thomp-
son wigwagged again and rode on, reaching
the ranch as the others were finishing their
breakfast.
At the table Red Connors remarked that
. 9.


BAR - 20
the tardy one had a hole in his sombrero, and
asked its owner how and where he had re.
ceived it.
“ Had a argument with C 80 out'n th'
line."
“Go 'way! Ventilate enny? "
One.”
“Good boy, sonny! Hey, Hopalong,
Skinny perforated C 80 this mawnin'!”
Hopalong Cassidy was struggling with a
mouthful of beef. He turned his eyes toward
Red without ceasing, and grinning as well as
he could under the circumstances managed to
grunt out “Gu," which was as near to
“Good" as the beef would allow.
Lanky Smith now chimed in as he re-
peatedly stuck his knife into a reluctant boiled
potato, “How'd yu do it, Skinny? "
“ Bet he sneaked up on him," joshed Buck
Peters;“ did yu ask his pardin, Skinny?' ”
“Ask nothin'," remarked Red, “he jest
nachurly walks up to C 80 an' sez, “ Kin I
have the pleasure of ventilatin' yu?' an' C 80
he sez, ‘ If yu do it easy like,' sez he. Didn't
he, Thompson?”
10


BUCKSKIN
They'll be some ventilatin' under th'
table if yu fellows don't lemme alone; I'm
hungry," complained Skinny.
Say, Hopalong, I bets yu I kin clean up
C 80 all by my lonesome," announced Buck,
winking at Red.
“Yah! Yu onct tried to clean up the Bend,
Buckie, an' if Pete an' Billy hadn't afound yu
when they come by Eagle Pass that night yu
wouldn't be here eatin' beef by th' pound,"
glancing at the hard-working Hopalong. “ It
was plum' lucky fer yu that they was acourtin'
that time, wasn't it, Hopalong?” suddenly
asked Red. Hopalong nearly strangled in
his efforts to speak. He gave it up and
nodded his head.
“Why can't yu git it straight, Connors ?
I wasn't doin' no courtin', it was Pete. I
runned into him on th' other side o' th'
pass.
I'd look fine acourtin', wouldn't I?" asked
the downtrodden Williams.
Pete Wilson skillfully flipped a potato into
that worthy's coffee, spilling the beverage of
the questionable name over a large expanse
blue flannel shirt. “Yu's all right, yu are.
of
II .


BAR 20
Why, when I meets yu, yu was lost in th'
arms of yore ladylove. All I could see was
yore feet. Go an' git tangled up with a two
hundred and forty pound half-breed squaw
an' then try to lay it onter me! When I pro-
posed drownin' yore troubles over at Cowan's,
yu went an' got mad over what yu called th'
insinooation. An' yu shore didn't look any
too blamed fine, neither."
“All th' same," volunteered Thompson,
who had taken the edge from his appetite,
we better go over an' pay C 80 a call. I
don't like what Shorty said about saltin' our
cattle. He'll shore do it, unless I camps on
th' line, which same I hain't hankerin' after."
“Oh, he wouldn't stop th' cows that way,
Skinny; he was only a foolin'," exclaimed Con-
nors meekly.
“Foolin' yore gran'mother! That there
bunch'll do anything if we wasn't lookin',”
hotly replied Skinny.
“That's shore nuff gospel, Thomp. They's
sore fer mor'n one thing. They got aplenty
when Buck went on th' warpath, an' they's
hankerin' to git square,” remarked Johnny
I 2


BUCKSKIN
Nelson, stealing the pie, a rare treat, of his
neighbor when that unfortunate individual
was not looking. He had it halfway to his
mouth when its former owner, Jimmy Price,
a boy of eighteen, turned his head and saw it
going.
“Hi-yil Yu clay-bank coyote, drap thet -
pie! Did yu ever see such a son-of-a-gun fer-
pie?" he plaintively asked Red Connors, as
he grabbed a mighty handful of apples and
crust. “ Pie'll kill yu some day, yu bob-
tailed jack! I had an uncle that died onct.
He et too much pie an' he went an' turned
green, an' so'l yu if yu don't let it alone.”
“Yu ought'r seed th' pie Johnny had down
in Eagle Flat," murmured Lanky Smith
reminiscently."
She had feet that'd stop a
stampede. Johnny was shore loco about her.'
Swore she was the finest blossom that ever
growed.” Here he choked and tears of laugh-
ter coursed down his weather-beaten face as
he pictured her. “She was a dainty Greaser,
about fifteen han's high an' about sixteen han's
around. Johnny used to chalk off when he
hugged her, usen't yu, Johnny? One night
13


BAR 20
when he had got purty well around on th'
second lap he run inter a Greaser jest startin'
out on his fust. They hain't caught that
Mexican yet."
Nelson was pelted with everything in sight.
He slowly wiped off the pie crust and bread
and potatoes.
Anybody'd think I was a
busted grub wagon,” he grumbled. When
he had fished the last piece of beef out of
his ear he went out and offered to stand treat.
As the round-up was over, they slid into their
saddles and raced for Cowan's saloon at
Buckskin
14


CHAPTER II
THE RASHNESS OF SHORTY
Bu
UCKSKIN was very hot; in fact it was
never anything else. Few people were
on the streets and the town was quiet. Over
in the Houston hotel a crowd of cowboys was
lounging in the barroom. They were very
quiet—a condition as rare as it was ominous.
Their mounts, twelve in all, were switching
flies from their quivering skins in the corral
at the rear. Eight of these had a large C 80
branded on their flanks; the other four, a
Double Arrow.
In the barroom a slim, wiry man was look-
ing out of the dirty window up the street at
Cowan's saloon. Shorty was complaining,
"They shore oughter be here now. They
rounded up last week.” The man nearest
assured him that they would come. The man
at the window turned and said, “They's yer
now."
15


BAR 20
In front of Cowan's a crowd of nine happy-
go-lucky, dare-devil riders were sliding from
their saddles. They threw the reins over the
heads of their mounts and filed in to the bar.
Laughter issued from the open door and the
clink of glasses could be heard. They stood
in picturesque groups, strong, self-reliant,
humorous, virile. Their expensive sombreros
were pushed far back on their heads and their
hairy chaps were covered with the alkali dust
from their ride.
Cowan, bottle in hand, pushed out several
more glasses. He kicked a dog from under
his feet and looked at Buck.
yet?” he inquired.
“Shore, day afore yisterday," came the
reply. The rest were busy removing the dust
from their throats, and gradually drifted into
groups of two or three. One of these groups
strolled over to the solitary card table, and
found Jimmy Price resting in a cheap chair,
his legs on the table.
“I wisht yu'd extricate yore delicate feet
from off'n this hyar table, James," humbly
“ Rounded up
16


THE RASHNESS OF SHORTY
requested Lanky Smith, morally backed up
by those with him.
'Ya-as, they shore is delicate, Mr. Smith,"
responded Jimmy, without moving.
“We wants to play draw, Jimmy,” ex-
plained Pete.
'Yore shore welcome to play if yu wants
to Didn't I tell yu when yu growed that
mustache that yu didn't have to ask me any
more?” queried the placid James, paternally.
“ Call 'em off, sonny.
Pete sez he kin
clean me out. Anyhow, yu kin have the fust
deal," compromised Lanky.
'I'm shore sorry fer Pete if he cayn't. Yu
don't reckon I has to have fust deal to beat
yu fellers, do yu? Go way an' lemme alone;
I never seed such a bunch fer buttin' in as yu
fellers."
Billy Williams returned to the bar. Then
he walked along it until he was behind the
recalcitrant possessor of the table. While his
aggrieved friends shuffled their feet uneasily
to cover his approach, he tiptoed up behind
Jimmy and, with a nod, grasped that indig.
17


BAR 20
nant individual firmly by the neck while the
others grabbed his feet. They carried him,
twisting and bucking, to the middle of the
street and deposited him in the dust, return-
ing to the now vacant table.
Jimmy rested quietly for a few seconds and
then slowly arose, dusting the alkali from him.
“Th' wall-eyed piruts,” he muttered, and
then scratched his head for a way to play
i hunk.” As he gazed sorrowfully at the saloon
he heard a snicker from behind him. He,
thinking it was one of his late tormentors,
paid no attention to it. Then a cynical, biting
laugh stung him. He wheeled, to see Shorty
leaning against a tree, a sneering leer on his
Alushed face. Shorty's right hand was sus-
pended above his holster, hooked to his belt
by the thumb—a favorite position of his when
expecting trouble.
“One of yore reg'lar habits ?” he drawled.
Jimmy began to dust himself in silence, but
his lips were compressed to a thin white line.
“ Does they hurt yu?” pursued the on-
looker.
Jimmy looked up. “I heard tell that they
18


THE RASHNESS OF SHORTY
make glue outen cayuses, sometimes," he re-
marked.
Shorty's eyes flashed. The loss of the horse
had been rankling in his heart all day.
“ Does they git yu frequent?” he asked.
His voice sounded hard.
“Oh, 'bout as frequent as yu lose a cayuse,
I reckon," replied Jimmy hotly.
Shorty's hand streaked to his holster and
Jimmy followed his lead. Jimmy's Colt was
caught. He had bucked too much. As he
fell Shorty ran for the Houston House.
Pistol shots were common, for they were
the universal method of expressing emotions.
The poker players grinned, thinking their
victim was letting off his indignation. Lanky
sized up his hand and remarked half audibly,
“He's a shore good kid."
The bartender, fearing for his new beveled,
gilt-framed mirror, gave a hasty glance out
the window. He turned around, made change
and remarked to Buck, “ Yore kid, Jimmy, is
plugged." Several of the more credulous-
craned their necks to see, Buck being the first.
“H-11” he shouted, and ran out to where
19


BAR - 20
Jimmy lay coughing, his toes twitching. The
saloon was deserted and a crowd of angry
cowboys surrounded their chum-a boy.
Buck had seen Shorty enter the door of the
Houston House and he swore.
“ Chase them
cayuses behind th' saloon, Pete,
an' git under cover.”
Jimmy was choking and he coughed up
blood. " He's shore-got me.
My-gun
stuck,” he added apologetically. He tried to
sit up, but was not able and he looked sur-
prised. “It's purty-damn hot-out here,"
he suggested. Johnny and Billy carried him
in the saloon and placed him by the table, in
the chair he had previously vacated. As they
stood up he fell across the table and died.
.
Billy placed the dead boy's sombrero on his
head and laid the refractory six-shooter on the
table. “I wonder who th'
He looked at the slim figure and started to
go out, followed by Johnny. As he reached
the threshold a bullet zipped past him and
thudded into the frame of the door. He
backed away and looked surprised. “That's
Shorty's shootin'-he allus misses 'bout that
was."
20


THE RASHNESS OF SHORTY
much." He looked out and saw Buck stand-
ing behind the live oak that Shorty had leaned
against, firing at the hotel. Turning around
he made for the rear, remarking to Johnny
that“ they's in th' Houston.” Johnny looked
at the quiet figure in the chair and swore
softly. He followed Billy. Cowan, closing
the door and taking a .60-caliber buffalo gun
from under the bar, went out also and
slammed the rear door forcibly.


CHAPTER III
THE ARGUMENT
Up Houses foro uoste Skinny and Pete lag
P the street two hundred yards from the
Houston House Skinny and Pete lay
hidden behind a bowlder. Three hundred
yards on the other side of the hotel Johnny
and Billy were stretched out in an arroyo.
Buck was lying down now, and Hopalong,
from his position in the barn belonging to the
hotel, was methodically dropping the horses
of the besieged, a job he hated as much as he
hated poison. The corral was their death
trap. Red and Lanky were emitting clouds
of smoke from behind the store, immediately
across the street from the barroom. A.60
caliber buffalo gun roared down by the plaza
and several Sharps cracked a protest from
different points. The town had awakened
and the shots were dropping steadily.
Strange noises filled the air. They grew in
tone and volume and then dwindled away to
22


THE ARGUMENT
nothing. The hum of the buffalo gun and
the sobbing pi-in-in-ing of the Winchesters
were liberally mixed with the sharp whines
of the revolvers.
There were no windows in the hotel now.
Raw furrows in the bleached wood showed
yellow, and splinters mysteriously sprang from
the casings. The panels of the door were
producing cracks and the cheap door handle
flew many ways at once. An empty whisky
keg on the stoop boomed out mournfully at
intervals and finally rolled down the steps
with a rumbling protest. Wisps of smoke
slowly climbed up the walls and seemed to be
waving defiance to the curling wisps in the
open.
Pete raised his shoulder to refill the maga-
zine of his smoking rifle and dropped the
cartridges all over his lap. He looked sheep-
ishly at Skinny and began to load with his
other hand.
“Yore plum' loco, yu are. Don't yu reckon
they kin hit a blue shirt at two hundred?”
Skinny cynically inquired. “ Got one that
time," he announced a second later.
23


BAR - 20
“I wonder who's got th' buffalo," grunted
Pete. “Mus' be Cowan," he replied to his
own question and settled himself to use his
left hand.
“Don't yu git Shorty; he's my meat,"
suggested Skinny
Yu better tell Buck-he ain't got no love
fer Shorty," replied Pete, aiming carefully.
The panic in the corral ceased and Hopa-
long was now sending his regrets against the
panels of the rear door. He had cut his last
initial in the near panel and was starting a
wobbly “H” in its neighbor. He was in a
good position. There were no windows in
the rear wall, and as the door was a very
dangerous place he was not fired at.
He began to get tired of this one-sided
business and crawled up on the window ledge,
dangling his feet on the outside. He occa-
sionally sent a bullet at a different part of the
door, but amused himself by annoying Buck.
“Plenty hot down there?” he pleasantly
inquired, and as he received no answer he
tried again. Better save some of them
cartridges fer some other time, Buck."
24


THE ARGUMENT
Buck was sending .45 Winchesters into the
shattered window with a precision that pre-
saged evil to any of the defenders who were
rash enough to try to gain the other end of
the room.
Hopalong bit off a chew of tobacco and
drowned a green fly that was crawling up the
side of the barn. The yellow liquid streaked
downward a short distance and was eagerly
sucked up by the warped boards.
A spurt of smoke leaped from the battered
door and the bored Hopalong promptly tum-
bled back inside. He felt of his arm, and
then, delighted at the notice taken of his
artistic efforts, shot several times from a crack
on his right. This yer's shore gittin' like
home," he gravely remarked to the splinter
that whizzed past his head. He shot again
at the door and it sagged outward, accom-
panied by the thud of a falling body. “ Pies
like mother used to make," he announced to
the empty loft as he slipped the magazine full
of .45's.
An' pills like popper used to
take," he continued when he had lowered the
level of the liquor in his flask.
25


BAR 20
He rolled a cigarette and tossed the match
into the air, extinguishing it by a shot from
his Colt.
Got any cigarettes, Hoppy?" said a voice
from below.
“Shore," replied the joyous puncher, recog-
nizing Pete; “how'd yu git here?”
“Like a cow. Busy? "
“None whatever. Comin' up? "
“Nope. Skinny wants a smoke too."
Hopalong handed tobacco and papers down
the hole. “So long."
“So long," replied the daring Pete, who
risked death twice for a smoke.
The hot afternoon dragged along and
about three o'clock Buck held up an empty
cartridge belt to the gaze of the curious Hopa-
long. That observant worthy nodded and
threw a double handful of cartridges, one by
one, to the patient and unrelenting Buck, who
filled his gun and piled the few remaining ones
up at his side. “Th' lives of mice and men
gang aft all wrong," he remarked at random.
“Th’son-of-a-gun's talkin' Shakespeare,"
marveled Hopalong.
26


THE ARGUMENT
“Satiate any, Buck?” he asked as that
worthy settled down to await his chance.
"Two," he replied, “Shorty an' another.
Plenty damn hot down here," he complained.
A spurt of alkali dust stung his face, but
the hand that made it never made another.
“Three," he called. “How many, Hoppy?”
“One. That's four. Wonder if th' others
got any?"
“ Pete said Skinny got one," replied the
intent Buck.
“Th' son-of-a-gun, he never said nothin'
about it, an' me a fillin' his ornery paws with
smokin'.” Hopalong was indignant.
“ Bet yu ten we don't git 'em afore dark,"
he announced.
“Got yu. Go yu ten more I gits another,"
promptly responded Buck.
“ That's a shore cinch. Make her twenty."
“ She is.”
“ Yu'll have to square it with Skinny, he
shore wanted Shorty plum' bad,” Hopalong
informed the unerring marksman.
“Why didn't he say suthin' about it? Any .
how, Jimmy was my bunkie."
27


BAR - 20
He sat up
Hopalong's cigarette disintegrated and the
board at his left received a hole. He promptly
disappeared and Buck laughed.
in the loft and angrily spat the soaked paper
out from between his lips.
“ All that trouble fer nothin', th' white-
eyed coyote," he muttered. Then he crawled
around to one side and fired at the center of
his “ C.” Another shot hurtled at him and
his left arm fell to his side. “That's funny
-wonder where th' damn pirut is?" He
looked out cautiously and saw a cloud of
smoke over a knothole which was situated
close up under the eaves of the barroom; and
it was being agitated. Some one was blowing
at it to make it disappear. He aimed very
carefully at the knot and fired. He heard a
sound between a curse and a squawk and was
not molested any further from that point.
“ I knowed he'd git hurt,” he explained to
the bandage, torn from the edge of his ker-
chief, which he carefully bound around his
last wound.
Down in the arroyo Johnny was com-
plaining.
28


THE ARGUMENT
* This yer's a no good bunk,” he plain-
tively remarked.
“ It shore ain't-but it's th' best we kin
find,” apologized Billy.
“That's th' sixth that feller sent up there.
He's a damn poor shot," observed Johnny;
“must be Shorty.”
Shorty kin shoot plum' good—tain't
him,” contradicted Billy.
“ Yas-with a six-shooter. He's off'n his
feed with a rifle," explained Johnny.
"Yu wants to stay down from up there,
yu ijit,” warned Billy as the disgusted Johnny
crawled up the bank. He slid down again
with a welt on his neck.
“That's somebody else now. He oughter
a done better'n that," he said.
Billy had fired as Johnny started to slide
and he smoothed his aggrieved chum. “He
could onct, yu means."
“Did yu git him?” asked the anxious
Johnny, rubbing his welt.
Plum' center,"
responded the business-
like Billy “Go up agin, mebby I kin git an-
other," he suggested tentatively.
29


BAR 20
“Mebby you kin go to h–. I ain't no
gallery,” grinned the now exuberant owner
of the welt.
Who's got th' buffalo ?” he inquired as
the .60 caliber roared.
Mus' be Cowan. He's shore all right.
Sounds like a bloomin' cannon," replied Billy.
“ Lemme alone with yore fool questions, I'm
busy,” he complained as his talkative partner
started to ask another. “Go an' git me some
water-I'm alkalied. An'git some .45's,
mine's purty near gone.
Johnny crawled down the
arroyo
and
reap-
peared at Hopalong's barn.
As he entered the door a handful of empty
shells fell on his hat and dropped to the floor.
He shook his head and remarked, " That mus'
be that fool Hopalong."
“Yore shore right. How's business?
inquired the festive Cassidy.
Purty fair. Billy's got one. How many's
gone?”
“Buck's got three, I got two and Skinny's
got one.
That's six, an' Billy's is seven.
They's five more,” he replied.
30


THE ARGUMENT
yu
“How'd know?” queried Johnny as he
filled his flask at the horse trough.
“Because they's twelve cayuses behind th'
hotel. That's why."
“They might git away on 'em,” suggested
the practical Johnny.
“Can't. They's all cashed in.”
“Yu said that they's five left,” ejaculated
the puzzled water carrier.
“Yah; yore a smart cuss, ain't yu?”
Johnny grinned and then said, “Got any
smokin'?"
Hopalong looked grieved. “I ain't no
store. Why don't yu git generous and buy
some?"
He partially filled Johnny's hand, and as
he put the sadly depleted bag away he in-
quired, “ Got any papers ? "
“Nope.”
Got
any
matches?” he asked cynically.
"Nope."
“Kin yu smoke 'em ?” he yelled, indig-
nantly.
“Shore nuff,” placidly replied the unruffled
Johnny. Billy wants some .45's.”
31


BAR - 20
Hopalong gasped.
“Don't he want my
gun, too?"
“Nope.
Got a better one. Hurry up,
he'll git mad.”
Hopalong was a very methodical person.
He was the only one of his crowd to carry a
second cartridge strap. It hung over his
right shoulder and rested on his left hip, hold.
ing one hundred cartridges and his second
Colt. His waist belt held fifty cartridges and
all would fit both the rifle and revolyers. He
extracted twenty from that part of the shoul-
der strap hardest to get at, the back, by simply
pulling it over his shoulder and plucking out
the bullets as they came into reach.
“That's all yu kin have. I'm Buck's am .
mernition jackass," he explained. “Bet yu
ten we gits 'em afore dark”-he was hedging.
" Any fool knows that. I'll take yu
if
yu
bets th' other way,” responded Johnny, grin.
ning. He knew Hopalong's weak spot.
“Yore on," promptly responded Hopa.
long, who would bet on anything.
Well, so long,” said Johnny as he crawled
away.
32


THE ARGUMENT
Hey, yu, Johnny!” called out Hopa-
long, “don't yu go an' tell anybody I got
any pills left. I ain't no ars'nal."
Johnny replied by elevating one foot and
waving it. Then he disappeared.
Behind the store, the most precarious posi-
tion among the besiegers, Red Connors and
Lanky Smith were ensconced and commanded
a view of the entire length of the barroom.
They could see the dark mass they knew to
be the rear door and derived a great amount
of amusement from the spots of light which
were appearing in it.
They watched the “C” (reversed to them)
appear and be completed. When the wobbly
“H” grew to completion they laughed
heartily. Then the hardwood bar had been
dragged across their field of vision and up to
the front windows, and they could only see
the indiscriminate holes which appeared in the
upper panels at frequent intervals.
Every time they fired they had to expose
a part of themselves to a return shot, with
the result that Lanky's forearm was seared
33


BAR - 20
its entire length. Red had been more for-
tunate and only had a bruised ear.
They laboriously rolled several large rocks
out in the open, pushing them beyond the
shelter of the store with their rifles. When
they had crawled behind them they each had
another wound. From their new position
they could see Hopalong sitting in his win-
dow. He promptly waved his sombrero and
grinned.
They were the most experienced fighters of
all except Buck, and were saying their shots.
When they did shoot they always had some
portion of a man's body to aim at, and the
damage they inflicted was considerable. They
said nothing, being older than the rest and
more taciturn, and they were not reck.
less. Although Hopalong's antics made them
laugh, they grumbled at his recklessness and
were not tempted to emulate him. It was
noticeable, too, that they shoved their rifles
out simultaneously and, although both were
aiming, only one fired. Lanky's gun cracked
so close to the enemy's that the whirr of the
34


THE ARGUMENT
bullet over Red's head was merged in the
crack of his partner's reply.
When Hopalong saw the rocks roll out
from behind the store he grew very curious.
Then he saw a flash, followed instantly by
another from the second rifle. He saw sey-
eral of these follow shots and could sit in
silence no longer. He waved his hat to at-
tract attention and then shouted, “How
many?" A shot was sent straight up in the
air and he notified Buck that there were only
four left.
The fire of these four grew less rapid-
they were saving their ammunition. A pot
shot at Hopalong sent that gentleman's rifle
hurtling to the ground. Another tore through
his hat, removing a neat amount of skin and
hair and giving him a lifelong part. He fell
back inside and proceeded to shoot fast and
straight with his revolvers, his head burning
as though on fire. When he had vented the
dangerous pressure of his anger he went below
and tried to fish the rifle in with a long stick.
It was obdurate, so he sent three more shots
35


BAR-20
into the door, and, receiving no reply, ran out
around the corner of his shelter and grasped
the weapon. When half way back he sank
to the ground. Before another shot could be
fired at him with any judgment a ripping,
spitting rifle was being frantically worked
from the barn. The bullets tore the door
into seams and gaps; the lowest panel, the
one having the “H” in it, fell inward in
chunks. Johnny had returned for another
smoke.
Hopalong, still grasping the rifle, rolled
rapidly around the corner of the barn. He
endeavored to stand, but could not. Johnny,
hearing rapid and fluent swearing, came out.
“Where'd they git yu?” he asked.
“In th' off leg. Hurts like h-1. Did yu
git him?"
"Nope. I jest come fer another cig; got
any left?"
"
'Up above. Yore gall is shore appallin'.
Help me in, yu two-laigged jackass."
“Shore. We'll shore pay our 'tentions to
that door. She'll go purty soon-she's as
36


THE ARGUMENT
full of holes as th' Bad Lan's," replied
Johnny. “Git aholt an' hop along, Hopa-
long."
He helped the swearing Hopalong inside,
and then the lead they pumped into the
wrecked door was scandalous. Another panel
fell in and Hopalong's “C” was destroyed.
A wide crack appeared in the one above it
and grew rapidly. Its mate began to gape
and finally both were driven in. The increase
in the light caused by these openings allowed
Red and Lanky to secure better aim and soon
the fire of the defenders died out.
Johnny dropped his rifle and, drawing his
six-shooter, ran out and dashed for the dilapi-
dated door, while Hopalong covered that
opening with a fusilade.
As Johnny's shoulder sent the framework
flying inward he narrowly missed sudden
death. As it was he staggered to the side,
out of range, and dropped full length to the
ground, flat on his face. Hopalong's rifle
cracked incessantly, but to no avail. The man
who had fired the shot was dead. Buck got
37


BAR 20
him immediately after he had shot Johnny.
Calling to Skinny and Red to cover him,
Buck sprinted to where Johnny lay gasping.
The bullet had entered his breast, just missed
his lungs and had passed out his back. Buck,
Colt in hand, leaped through the door, but
met with no resistance. He signaled to Hop-
along, who yelled, “They's none left.”
The trees and rocks and gullies and build-
ings yielded men who soon crowded around
the hotel. A young doctor, lately graduated,
appeared. It was his first case, but he eased
Johnny and saved his life. Then he went
over to Hopalong, who was now raving, and
attended to him. The others were patched up
as well as possible and the struggling young
physician had his pockets crammed full of
gold and silver coins.
The scene of the wrecked barroom was
indescribable. Holes, furrows,
furrows, shattered
glass and bottles, the liquor oozing down the
walls of the shelves and running over the
floor; the ruined furniture, a wrecked bar,
seared and shattered and covered with blood;
bodies as they had been piled in the corners;
38


THE ARGUMENT
ropes, shells, hats; and liquor everywhere,
over everything, met the gaze of those who
had caused the chaos.
Perry's Bend had failed to wipe out the
score.


CHAPTER IV
THE VAGRANT SIOUX
Bug
UCKSKIN gradually readjusted itself
to the conditions which had existed be-
fore its sudden leap into the limelight as a
town which did things. The soirée at the
Houston House had drifted into the past,
and was now substantially established as an
epoch in the history of the town. Exuberant
joy gave way to dignity and deprecation, and
to solid satisfaction; and the conversations
across the bar brought forth parallels of the
affair to be judged impartially—and the im-
partial judgment was, unanimously, that while
there had undoubtedly been good fights before
Perry's Bend had disturbed the local quiet,
they were not quite up to the new standard of
strenuous hospitality. Finally the heat blis-
tered everything back into the old state, and
the shadows continued to be in demand.
One afternoon, a month after the reception
40


THE VAGRANT SIOUX
of the honorable delegation from Perry's
Bend, the town of Buckskin seemed desolated,
and the earth and the buildings thereon were
as huge furnaces radiating a visible heat, but
when the blazing sun had begun to settle in
the west it awoke with a clamor which might
have been laid to the efforts of a zealous
Satan. At this time it became the Mecca of
two score or more joyous cowboys from the
neighboring ranches, who livened things as
those knights of the saddle could.
In the scant but heavy shadow of Cowan's
saloon sat a picturesque figure from whom
came guttural, resonant rumblings which
mingled in a spirit of loneliness with the fret-
ful sighs of a flea-tormented dog. Both dog
and master were vagrants, and they were
tolerated because it was a matter of supreme
indifference as to who came or how long they
stayed as long as the ethics and the unwritten
law of the cow country were inviolate. And
the breaking of these caused no unnecessary
anxiety, for justice was both speedy and sure.
When the outcast Sioux and his yellow dog
had drifted into town some few months before
41


BAR - 20
they had caused neither expostulation nor
inquiry, as the cardinal virtue of that whole
broad land was to ask a man no questions
which might prove embarrassing to all con-
cerned; judgment was of observation, not of
history, and a man's past would reveal itself
through actions. It mattered little whether
he was an embezzler or the wild chip from
some prosperous eastern block, as men came
to the range to forget and to lose touch with
the pampered East; and the range absorbed
them as its own. A man was only a man as
his skin contained the qualities necessary; and
the illiterate who could ride and shoot and
live to himself was far more esteemed than
the educated who could not do those things.
The more a man depends upon himself and
the closer is his contact to a quick judgment
the more laconic and 'even-poised he becomes.
And the knowledge that he is himself a judge
tends to create caution and judgment. He
has no court to uphold his honor and to offer
him protection, so he must be quick to protect
himself and to maintain his own standing.
His nature saved him, or it executed; and the
j
42


THE VAGRANT SIOUX
range absolved him of all unpaid penalties of
a careless past. He became a man born again
and he took up his burden, the exactions of a
new environment, and he lived as long as
those exactions gave him the right to live.
He must tolerate no restrictions of his natural
rights, and he must not restrict; for the one
would proclaim him a coward, the other a
bully; and both received short shrifts in that
land of the self-protected. The basic law of
nature is the survival of the fittest.
So, when the wanderers found their level
in Buckskin they were not even asked by what
name men knew them. Not caring to hear
a name which might not harmonize with their
idea of the fitness of things, the cowboys of
the Bar-20 had, with a freedom born of
excellent livers and fearless temperaments,
bestowed names befitting their sense of humor
and adaptability. The official title of the
Sioux was By-and-by; the dog was known as
Fleas. Never had names more clearly de-
scribed the objects to be represented, for they
were excellent examples of cowboy discern-
ment and aptitude.
43


BAR 20
In their eyes By-and-by was a man. He
could feel and he could resent insults. They
did not class him as one of themselves, because
he did not have energy enough to demand
and justify such classification. With them he
had a right to enjoy his life as he saw fit so
long as he did not trespass on or restrict the
rights of others. They were not analytic in
temperament, neither were they moralists.
He was not a menace to society, because so-
ciety had superb defenses. So they vaguely
recognized his many poor qualities and clearly
saw his few good ones. He could shoot, when
permitted, with the best; no horse, however
refractory, had ever been known to throw
him; he was an adept at following the trails
left by rustlers, and that was an asset; he be-
came of value to the community; he was an
economic factor. His ability to consume liquor
with indifferent effects raised him another
notch in their estimation. He was not always
talking when some one else wished to—an-
other count. There remained about him that
stoical indifference to the petty; that obsery-
ant nonchalance of the Indian; and there was
44


THE VAGRANT SIOUX
a suggestion, faint, it was true, of a dignity
common to chieftains. He was a log of
grave deference which tossed on their sea of
mischievous hilarity.
He wore a pair of corduroy trousers,
known to the care-free as "pants," which
were held together by numerous patches of
what had once been brilliantly colored calico.
A pair of suspenders, torn into two separate
straps, made a belt for himself and a collar
for his dog. The trousers had probably been
secured during a fit of absent-mindedness on
his part when their former owner had not
been looking. Tucked at intervals in the top
of the corduroys (the exceptions making con-
venient shelves for alkali dust) was what at
one time had been a stiff-bosomed shirt. This
was open down the front and back, the weight
of the trousers on the belt holding it firmly
on the square shoulders of the wearer, thus
precluding the necessity of collar buttons. A
pair of moccasins, beautifully worked with
wampum, protected his feet from the on-
slaughts of cacti and the inquisitive and pug-
nacious sand flies; and lying across his lap
45


BAR 20
was a repeating Winchester rifle, not danger-
ous because it was empty, a condition due to
the wisdom of the cîtizens in forbidding any
one to sell, trade or give to him those tubes
of concentrated trouble, because he could get
drunk.
The two were contented and happy. They
had no cares nor duties, and their pleasures
were simple and easily secured, as they con-
sisted of sleep and a proneness to avoid mov-
ing. Like the untrammeled coyote, their bed
was where sleep overtook them; their food,
what the night wrapped in a sense of security,
or the generosity of the cowboys of the
Bar-20. No tub-ridden Diogenes ever knew
so little of responsibility or as much unadul-
terated content. There is a penalty even to
civilization and ambition.
When the sun had cast its shadows beyond
By-and-by's feet the air became charged with
noise; shouts, shots and the rolling thunder
of madly pounding hoofs echoed flatly
throughout the town. By-and-by yawned,
stretched and leaned back, reveling in the
semi-conscious ecstasy of the knowledge that
46


THE VAGRANT SIOUX
he did not have to immediately get up. Fleas
opened one eye and cocked an ear in inquiry,
and then rolled over en his back, squirmed
and sighed contentedly and long. The outfit
of the Bar-20 had come to town.
The noise came rapidly nearer and in-
creased in volume as the riders turned the
corner and drew rein suddenly, causing their
mounts to slide on their haunches in ankle-
deep dust.
' Hullo, old Buck-with-th'-pants, how's
yore liver?"
“Come up an' irrigate, old tank!”
“ Chase th' flea ranch an' trail along!”
These were a few of the salutations discern-
ible among the medley of playful yells, the
safety valves of supercharged good-nature.
“Skr-e-e'!” yelled Hopalong Cassidy, let-
ting off a fusillade of shots in the vicinity of
Fleas, who rapidly retreated around the cor-
ner, where he wagged his tail in eager expec-
tation. He was not disappointed, for a cow
pony tore around in pursuit and Hopalong
leaned over and scratched the yellow back,
thumping it heartily, and, tossing a chunk of
47


BAR -20
beef into the open jaws of the delighted dog,
departed as he had come. The advent of the
outfit meant a square meal, and the dog
knew it.
In Cowan's, lined up against the bar, the
others were earnestly and assiduously endeav-
oring, with a promise of success, to get By-
and-by drunk, which endeavors coincided
perfectly with By-and-by's idea of the fitness
of things. The fellowship and the liquor
combined to thaw out his reserve and to
loosen his tongue. After gazing with an air
of injured surprise at the genial loosening of
his knees he gravely handed his rifle with an
exaggerated sweep of his arm, to the cowboy
nearest him, and wrapped his arms around
the recipient to insure his balance. The rifle
was passed from hand to hand until it came
to Buck Peters, who gravely presented it to
its owner as a new gun.
By-and-by threw out his stomach in an
endeavor to keep his head in line with his
heels, and grasping the weapon with both
hands turned to Cowan, to whom he gave it.
“ Yu hab this un. Me got two. Me keep
48


THE VAGRANT SIOUX
new un, mebbyso." Then he loosened his
belt and drank long and deep.
A shadow darkened the doorway and Hop-
along limped in. Spying By-and-by pushing
the bottle into his mouth, while Red Connors
propped him, he grinned and took out five
silver dollars, which he jingled under By-
and-by's eyes, causing that worthy to lay aside
the liquor and erratically grab for the tanta-
lizing fortune.
“Not yet, sabe?” said Hopalong, chang-
ing the position of the money. “If yu wants
to corral this here herd of simoleons yu has
to ride a cayuse what Red bet me yu can't
ride. Yu has got to grow on that there saddle
and stayed growed for five whole minutes by
Buck's ticker. I ain't a-goin' to tell yu he's
any sawhorse, for yu'd know better, as yu
reckons Red wouldn't bet on no losin' propo-
sition if he knowed better, which same he
don't. Yu straddles that four-laigged cloud-
burst an' yu gets these, sabe? I ain't seeni
th' cayuse yet that yu couldn't freeze to, an'
I'm backin' my opinions with my moral sup-
port an' one month's pay.'
49


BAR - 20
By-and-by's eyes began to glitter as the
meaning of the words sifted through his be-
fuddled mind. Ride a horse-five dollars-
ride a five-dollars horse-horses ride dol.
lars—then he straightened up and began to
speak in an incoherent jumble of Sioux and
bad English. He, the mighty rider of the
Sioux; he, the bravest warrior and the great-
est hunter; could he ride a horse for five
dollars? Well, he rather thought he could.
Grasping Red by the shoulder, he tacked for
the door and narrowly missed hitting the
bottom step first, landing, as it happened, in
the soft dust with Red's leg around his neck.
Somewhat sobered by the jar, he stood up
and apologized to the crowd for Red getting
in the way, declaring that Red was a “Heap
good un," and that he didn't mean to do it.
The outfit of the Bar-20 was, perhaps, the
most famous of all from Canada to the Rio
Grande. The foreman, Buck Peters, con-
trolled a crowd of men (who had all the
instincts of boys) that had shown no quarter
to many rustlers, and who, while always care-
free and easy-going (even fighting with great
50


THE VAGRANT SIOUX
good humor and carelessness), had estab-
lished the reputation of being the most reck-
less gang of daredevil gun-fighters that ever
pounded leather. Crooked gaming houses,
from El Paso to Cheyenne and from Phænix
to Leavenworth, unanimously and enthusias-
tically damned them from their boots to their
sombreros, and the sheriffs and marshals of
many localities had received from their hands
most timely assistance and some trouble.
Wiry, indomitable, boyish and generous, they
were splendid examples of virile manhood;
and, surrounded as they were with great dan-
gers and a unique civilization, they should not,
in justice, be judged by opinions born of the
commonplace.
They were real cowboys, which means, pub-
lic opinion to the contrary notwithstanding,
that they were not lawless, nor drunken, shoot-
ing bullies who held life cheaply, as their kin
has been unjustly pictured; but while these
men were naturally peaceable they had to
continually rub elbows with men who were
not. Gamblers, criminals, bullies and the
riffraff that fled from the protected East had
51


BAR -20
drifted among them in great numbers, and it
was this class that caused the trouble. The
v hard-working cow punchers " lived accord.
ing to the law of the land, and they obeyed
that greatest of all laws, that of self-preser-
vation. Their fun was boisterous, but they
paid for all the damage they inflicted; their
work was one continual hardship, and the
reaction of one extreme swings far toward
the limit of its antithesis. Go back to the
Apple if you would trace the beginning of
self-preservation and the need.
Buck Peters was a man of mild appearance,
somewhat slow of speech and correspondingly
quick of action, who never became flurried.
His was the master hand that controlled, and
his Colts enjoyed the reputation of never miss-
ing when a hit could have been expected with
reason. Many floods, stampedes and bliz-
zards had assailed his nerves, but he yet could
pour a glass of liquor, held at arm's length,
through a knothole in the floor without wet-
ting the wood.
Next in age came Lanky Smith, a small,
undersized man of retiring disposition. Then
52


THE VAGRANT SIOUX
came Skinny Thompson, six feet four on his
bared soles, and true to his name; Hopalong
described him as “th' shadow of a chalk
mark." Pete Wilson, the slow-witted and
very taciturn, and Billy Williams, the waver-
ing pessimist, were of ordinary height and
appearance. Red Connors, with hair that
shamed the name, was the possessor of a
temper which was as dry as tinder; his great-
est weakness was his regard for the rifle as a
means of preserving peace. Johnny Nelson
was the protégé, and he could do no wrong.
The last, Hopalong Cassidy, was a combina-
tion of irresponsibility, humor, good nature,
love of fighting, and nonchalance when face
to face with danger. His most prominent
attribute was that of always getting into
trouble without any intention of so doing; in
fact, he was much aggrieved and surprised
when it came. It seemed as though when any
“bad man " desired to add to his reputation
he invariably selected Hopalong as the means
(a fact due, perhaps, to the perversity of
things in general). Bad men became scarce
soon after Hopalong became a fixture in any
53


BAR -20
locality. He had been crippled some years
before in a successful attempt to prevent the
assassination of a friend, Sheriff Harris, of
Albuquerque, and he still possessed a limp.
When Red had relieved his feelings and
had dug the alkali out of his ears and eyes,
he led the Sioux to the rear of the saloon,
where a “pinto was busily engaged in en-
deavoring to pitch a saddle from his back,
employing the intervals in trying to see how
much of the picket rope he could wrap around
his legs.
When By-and-by saw what he was expected
to ride he felt somewhat relieved, for the pony
did not appear to have more than the ordinary
amount of cussedness. He waved his hand,
and Johnny and Red bandaged the animal's
eyes, which quieted him at once, and then they
untangled the rope from around his legs and
saw that the cinches were secure. Motioning
to By-and-by that all was ready, they jerked
the bandage off as the Indian settled himself
in the saddle.
Had By-and-by been really sober he would
have taken the conceit out of that pony in
54


THE VAGRANT SIOUX
chunks, and as it was he experienced no great
difficulty in holding his seat; but in his addled
state of mind he grasped the end of the cinch
strap in such a way that when the pony
jumped forward in its last desperate effort the
buckle slipped and the cinch became unfast-
ened; and By-and-by, still seated in the saddle,
flew headforemost into the horse trough,
where he spilled much water.
As this happened Cowan turned the corner,
and when he saw the wasted water (which he
had to carry, bucketful at a time, from the
wells a good quarter of a mile away) his
anger blazed forth, and yelling, he ran for
the drenched Sioux, who was just crawling
out of his bath. When the unfortunate saw
the irate man bearing down on him he sput-
tered in rage and fear, and, turning, he ran
down the street, with Cowan thundering flat-
footedly behind on a fat man's gallop, to the
hysterical cheers of the delighted outfit, who
saw in it nothing but a good joke.
When Cowan returned from his hopeless
task, blowing and wheezing, he heard sundry
remarks, sotto voce, which were not calculated
55


BAR - 20
99
to increase his opinion of his physical con-
dition.
“Seems to me," remarked the irrepressible
Hopalong," that one of those cayuses has got
th' heaves."
“ It shore sounds like it,” acquiesced
Johnny, red in the face from holding in his
laughter, “an' say, somebody interferes."
“All knock-kneed animals do, yu heathen,"
supplied Red.
“Hey, yu, let up on that an' have a drink
on th' house,” invited Cowan. “If I gits
that d-n warwhoop I'll make yu think
there's been a cyclone. I'll see how long that
bum hangs around this here burg, I will."
Red's eyes narrowed and his temper got
the upper hand. “He ain't no bum when yu
gives him rotgut at a quarter of a dollar a
glass, is he? Any time that 'bum' gits
razzled out for nothin' more'n this, why, I
goes too; an' I ain't sayin' nothin' about goin'
peaceable-like, neither."
“I knowed somethin' like this 'ud happen,'
dolefully sang out Billy Williams, strong on
the side of his pessimism.
56


THE VAGRANT SIOUX
“For th' Lord's sake, have yu broke out? "
asked Red, disgustedly. “ I'm goin' to hit
the trail—but just keep this afore yore mind:
if By-and-by gits in any accidents or ain't in
sight when I comes to town again, this here
climate'll be a d-n sight hotter'n it is now.
No hard feelings, sabe? It's just a casual bit
of advice. Come on, fellows, let's amble-
I'm hungry."
As they raced across the plain toward the
ranch a pair of beady eyes, snapping with a
drunken rage, watched them from an arroyo;
and when Cowan entered the saloon the next
morning he could not find By-and-by's rifle,
which he had placed behind the bar. He also
missed a handful of cartridges from the box
near the cash drawer; and had he looked
closely at his bottled whisky he would have
noticed a loss there. A horse was missing
from a Mexican's corral and there were
rumors that several Indians had been seen far
out on the plain.
57


CHAPTER V
THE LAW OF THE RANGE
"P
HEW! I'm shore hungry,” said Hopa-
long, as he and Red dismounted at
the ranch the next morning for breakfast.
“Wonder what's good for it?”
"They's three things that's good for fam-
ine,” said Red, leading the way to the bunk
house. “Yu can pull in yore belt, yu can
drink, an' yu can eat. Yore getting as bad
as Johnny_but he's young yet.”
The others met their entrance with a volley
of good-humored banter, some of which was
so personal and evoked such responses that it
sounded like the preliminary skirmish to a
fight. But under all was that soft accent, that
drawl of humorous appreciation and eyes
twinkling in suppressed merriment. Here
they were thoroughly at home and the spirit
of comradeship manifested itself in many
subtle ways; the wit became more daring and
58


THE LAW OF THE RANGE
sharp, Billy lost some of his pessimism, and
the alertness disappeared from their manner.
Skinny left off romping with Red and
yawned. “I wish that cook'ud wake up an'
git breakfast. He's the cussedest Greaser I
ever saw—he kin go to sleep standin' up an'
not know it. Johnny's th' boy that worries
him—th' kid comes in an' whoops things up
till he's gorged himself.”
“ Johnny's got th' most appallin' feel for
grub of anybody I knows," added Red. “I
wonder what's keepin' him-he's usually
hangin' around here bawlin' for his grub likev
a spoiled calf, long afore cookie's got th' fire
goin'."
Mebby he rustled some grub out with
him-I saw him tiptoein' out of th' gallery
this mornin' when I come back for my cigs,”
remarked Hopalong, glancing at Billy.
Billy groaned and made for the gallery.
Emerging half a minute later he blurted out
his tale of woe: “Every time I blows myself
an' don't drink it all in town some slab-sided v
maverick freezes to it. It's gone,” he added,
dismally.
59


BAR - 20
“ Too bad, Billy—but what is it?" asked
Skinny.
“What is it? Wha'd yu think it was, yu
emaciated match? Jewelry? Cayuses? It's
whisky-two simoleons' worth. Somethin's
allus wrong. This here whole yearth's wrong,
just like that cross-eyed sky pilot said over
to-
“Will yu let up ? ” yelled Red, throwing
a sombrero at the grumbling unfortunate.
“Yu ask Buck where yore tanglefoot is.”
“I'd shore look nice askin' th' boss if he'd
v rustled my whisky, wouldn't I? An' would yu
mind throwin' somebody else's hat? I paid
twenty wheels for that eight years ago, and
I don't want it mussed none."
Gee, yore easy! Why, Ah Sing, over at
Albuquerque, gives them away every time yu
gits yore shirt washed,” gravely interposed
Hopalong as he went out to cuss the cook.
Well, what'd yu think of that?” ex-
claimed Billy in an injured tone.
“Oh, yu needn't be hikin' for Albuquerque
-Washee-Washee'ud charge yu double for
washin' yore shirt. Yu ought to fall in th'
60


THE LAW OF THE RANGE
river some day—then he might talk business,"
called Hopalong over his shoulder as he
heaved an old boot into the gallery. “Hey,
yu hibernatin' son of morphine, if yu don't
git them flapjacks in here pretty sudden-like
I'll scatter yu all over th' landscape, sabe?
Yu just wait till Johnny comes!”
“Wonder where th' kid is?" asked Lanky,
rolling a cigarette.
“Off somewhere lookin' at th' sun through
th' bottom of my bottle," grumbled Billy.
Hopalong started to go out, but halted on
the sill and looked steadily off toward the
northwest. “That's funny. Hey, fellows,
here comes Buck an' Johnny ridin' double-
An a walk, too!” he exclaimed.
“ Wonder
what th'-thunder! Red, Buck's carryin' him!
Somethin's busted!” he yelled, as he dashed
for his pony and made for the newcomers.
"I told yu he was hittin' my bottle," pertly
remarked Billy, as he followed the rest out-
side.
“Did yu ever see Johnny drunk? Did yu
over see him drink more'n two glasses ? Shut
pore wailin' face—they's somethin' worse'n
61


BAR - 20
that in this here," said Red, his temper rising.
“Hopalong an' me took yore cheap liquor-
it's under Pete's bunk,” he added.
The trio approached on a walk and Johnny,
delirious and covered with blood, was carried
into the bunk house. Buck waited until all
had assembled again and then, his face dark
with anger, spoke sharply and without the
v usual drawl: “Skragged from behind, den
them! Get some grub an' water an' be quick.
We'll see who the gent with th' grudge is.”
At this point the expostulations of the in-
dignant cook, who, not understanding the
cause, regarded the invasion of china shop
bulls as sacrilegious, came to his ears. Strid-
ing quickly to the door, he grabbed the pan
the Mexican was about to throw and, turning
the now frightened man around, thundered,
Keep quiet an' get 'em some grub."
When rifles and ammunition had been se-
cured they mounted and followed him at a
hard gallop along the back trail. No words
were spoken, for none were necessary.
All
knew that they would not return until they
had found the man for whom they were look-
62


THE LAW OF THE RANGE
ing, even if the chase led to Canada. They
did not ask Buck for any of the particulars,
for the foreman was not in the humor to talk,
and all, save Hopalong, whose curiosity was
always on edge, recognized only two facts
and cared for nothing else: Johnny had been
ambushed and they were going to get the one
who was responsible. They did not even con-
jecture as to who it might be, because the trail
would lead them to the man himself, and it
mattered nothing who cr what he was
there
was only one course to take with an assassin.
So they said nothing, but rode on with squared
jaws and set lips, the seven ponies breast to
breast in a close arc.
Soon they came to an arroyo which they
took at a leap. As they approached it they
saw signs in the dust which told them that a
body had lain there huddled up; and there
were brown spots on the baked alkali. The
trail they followed was now single, Buck hav-
ing ridden along the bank of the arroyo when
hunting for Johnny, for whom he had orders.
This trail was very irregular, as if the horse
had wandered at will. Suddenly they came
63


BAR – 20
upon five tracks, all pointing one way, and
four of these turned abruptly and disappeared
in the northwest. Half a mile beyond the
point of separation was a chaparral, which
was an important factor to them.
Each man knew just what had taken place
as if he had been an eyewitness, for the trail
was plain. The assassins had waited in the
chaparral for Johnny to pass, probably hav-
ing seen him riding that way. When he had
passed and his back had been turned to them
they had fired and wounded him severely at
the first volley, for Johnny was of the stuff
that fights back and his revolvers had showed
full chambers and clean barrels when Red had
examined them in the bunk house. Then
they had given chase for a short distance and,
from some inexplicable motive, probably fear,
they had turned and ridden off without know-
ing how bad he was hit. It was this trail that
led to the northwest, and it was this trail that
they followed without pausing.
When they had covered fifty miles they
sighted the Cross Bar O ranch, where they
hoped to secure fresh mounts. As they rode
64


THE LAW OF THE RANGE
up to the ranch house the owner, Bud Wal-
lace, came around the corner and saw them.
“Hullo, boys! What deviltry are yu up
to now?” he asked.
Buck leaped from his mount, followed by
the others, and shoved his sombrero back on
his head as he started to remove the saddle.
“We're trailin' a bunch of murderers.
They ambushed Johnny an' dn near killed
him. I stopped here to get fresh cayuses.
“Yu did right!” replied Wallace heartily.
Then raising his voice he shouted to some of
his men who were near the corral to bring up
the seven best horses they could rope. Then
he told the cook to bring out plenty of food
and drink.
"I got four punchers what ain't doin'
nothin' but eat," he suggested.
Much obliged, Wallace, but there's only
four of 'em, an' we'd rather get 'em ourselves
Johnny'ud feel better," replied Buck,
throwing his saddle on the horse that was led
up to him.
“How's yore cartridges got plenty?'
persisted Wallace.
65


BAR 20
“ Two hundred apiece," responded Buck,
springing into his saddle and riding off. “So
long," he called.
“So long, an' plug h–1 out of them,”
shouted Wallace as the dust swept over him.
At five in the afternoon they forded the
Black River at a point where it crossed the
state line from New Mexico, and at dusk
camped at the base of the Guadalupe Moun-
tains. At daybreak they took up the chase,
grim and merciless, and shortly afterward
they passed the smoldering remains of a
camp fire, showing that the pursued had been
in a great hurry, for it should have been put
out and masked. At noon they left the moun-
tains to the rear and sighted the Barred
Horseshoe, which they approached.
The owner of the ranch saw them coming,
and from their appearance surmised that
something was wrong.
" What is it?" he shouted. “Rustlers ?”
Nope. Murderers.
I wants to swap
cayuses quick," answered Buck.
“There they are. Th' boys just brought
'em in. Anything else I can let yu have?”
33
66


THE LAW OF THE RANGE
"Nope," shouted Buck as they galloped
off.
Somebody's goin' to get plugged full of
holes," murmured the ranch owner as he
watched them kicking up the dust in huge
clouds.
After they had forded a tributary of the
Rio Penasco near the Sacramento Mountains
and had surmounted the opposite bank, Hopa-
long spurred his horse to the top of a hum-
mock and swept the plain with Pete's field
glasses, which he had borrowed for the occa-
sion, and returned to the rest, who had kept on
without slacking the pace. As he took up
his
former position he grunted, “War-whoops,"
and unslung his rifle, an example followed by
the others. The ponies were now running at
top speed, and as they shot over a rise their
riders saw their quarry a mile and a half in
advance. One of the Indians looked back and
discharged his rifle in defiance, and it now
became a race worthy of the name-Death
fled from Death. The fresher mounts of the
cowboys steadily cut down the distance and,
as the rifles of the pursuers began to speak,
67


BAR -20
the hard-pressed Indians made for the smaller
of two knolls, the plain leading to the larger
one being too heavily strewn with bowlders
to permit speed.
As the fugitives settled down behind the
rocks which fringed the edge of their eleva-
tion a shot from one of them disabled Billy's
arm, but had no other effect than to increase
the score to be settled. The pursuers rode
behind a rise and dismounted, from where,
leaving their mounts protected, they scattered
out to surround the knoll.
Hopalong, true to his curiosity, finally
turned up on the highest point of the other
knoll, a spur of the range in the west, for he
always wanted to see all he could. Skinny,
due to his fighting instinct, settled one hun-
dred yards to the north and on the same spur.
Buck lay hidden behind an enormous bowlder
eight hundred yards to the northeast of
Skinny, and the same distance southeast of
Buck was Red Connors, who was crawling up
the bed of an arroyo. Billy, nursing his arm,
lay in front of the horses, and Pete, from his
position between Billy and Hopalong, was
68


THE LAW OF THE RANGE
crawling from rock to rock in an endeavor to
get near enough to use his Colts, his favorite
and most effective weapons. Intermittent
puffs of smoke arising from a point between
Skinny and Buck showed where Lanky Smith
was improving each shining hour.
There had been no directions given, each
man choosing his own position, yet each was
of strategic worth. Billy protected the horses,
Hopalong and Skinny swept the knoll with a
plunging fire, and Lanky and Buck lay in the
course the besieged would most likely take if
they tried a dash. Off to the east Red barred
them from creeping down the arroyo, and
from where Pete was he could creep up to
within sixty yards if he chose the right rocks.
The ranges varied from four hundred yards
for Buck to sixty for Pete, and the others
averaged close to three hundred, which al-
lowed very good shooting on both sides.
Hopalong and Skinny gradually moved
nearer to each other for companionship, and
as the former raised his head to see what
the others were doing he received a graze on
the ear.
69


BAR -20
“Wow!” he yelled, rubbing the tingling
member.
Two puffs of smoke floated up from the
knoll, and Skinny swore.
“ Where'd he get yu, Fat? ” asked Hopa-
long.
G’wan, don't get funny, son," replied
Skinny
Jets of smoke arose from the north and
east, where Buck and Red were stationed,
and Pete was half way to the knoll. So far
he hadn't been hit as he dodged in and out,
and, emboldened by his luck, he made a run
of five yards and his sombrero was shot from
his head. Another dash and his empty holster
was ripped from its support. As he crouched
behind a rock he heard a yell from Hopalong,
and saw that interested individual waving his
sombrero to cheer him on. An angry pang!
from the knoll caused that enthusiastic rooter
to drop for safety.
“Locoed son-of-a-gun," complained Pete.
“He'll shore git potted.” Then he glanced
at Billy, who was the center of several succes-
sive spurts of dust.
70


THE LAW OF THE RANGE
“How's business, Billy?” he called pleas-
antly.
"Oh, they'll git me yet,” responded the
pessimist. “Yu needn't git anxious. If that
off buck wasn't so green he'd 'a' had me long
ago."
“ Ya-hoo! Pete! Oh, Pete!" called Hop-
along, sticking his head out at one side and
grinning as the wondering object of his hail
craned his neck to see what the matter was.
“Huh? " grunted Pete, and then remem-
bering the distance he shouted, “What's th'
matter?”
"Got any cigarettes ? " asked Hopalong.
“Yuden sheep!” said Pete, and turning
back to work he drove a .44 into a yellow
moccasin.
Hopalong began to itch and he saw that
he was near an ant hill. Then the cactus at
his right boomed out mournfully and a hole
appeared in it. He fired at the smoke and a
yell informed him that he had made a hit.
“Go 'way!” he complained as a green fly
buzzed past his nose. Then he scratched each
leg with the foot of the other and squirmed
71


BAR = 20
incessantly, kicking out with both feet at once.
A warning metallic whir-r-r! on his left caused
him to yank them in again, and turning his
head quickly he had the pleasure of lopping
off the head of a rattlesnake with his Colt's.
“Glad yu wasn't a copperhead,” he ex-
claimed. "
Somebody had ought 'a' shot that
fool Noah. D-n the ants !" He drowned
with a jet of tobacco juice a Gila monster that
was staring at him and took a savage delight
in its frantic efforts to bury itself.
Soon he heard Skinny swear and he sung
out: “What's the matter, Skinny? Git
plugged again?”
“Naw, bugs—ain't they h-1?" plaint-
ively asked his friend.
“They ain't none over here. What kind
of bugs?”
“Sufferin' Moses, I ain't no bugologist !
All kinds !
But Hopalong got it at last. He had
found tobacco and rolled a cigarette, and in
reaching for a match exposed his shoulder
to a shot that broke his collar bone. Skinny's
72


THE LAW OF THE RANGE
rifle cracked in reply and the offending brave
rolled out from behind a rock. From the fuss
emanating from Hopalong's direction Skinny
knew that his neighbor had been hit.
“Don't yu care, Hoppy. I got th' cuss,"
he said consolingly. “Where'd he git yu?”
he asked.
“In th' heart, yu pie-faced nuisance. Come
over here an' corral this cussed bandage an'
gimme some water," snapped the injured man.
Skinny wormed his way through the thorny
chaparral and bound up the shoulder. Any-
thing else?” he asked.
“ Yes. Shoot that bunch of warts an' blow
that tobacco-eyed Gila to Cheyenne. This
here's worse than the time we cleaned out th'
C 80 outfit!” Then he kicked the dead toad
and swore at the sun.
“Close yore yap; yore worse than a kid!
Anybody'd thing yu never got plugged afore,'
said Skinny indignantly.
“ I can cuss all I wants,” replied Hopalong,
proving his assertion as he grabbed his gun
and fired at the dead Indian. A bullet whined
73


BAR 20
above his head and Skinny fired at the smoke.
He peeped out and saw that his friends were
getting nearer to the knoll.
“They's closin' in now.
We'll soon be
gittin' home," he reported.
Hopalong looked out in time to see Buck
make a dash for a bowlder that lay ten yards
in front of him, which he reached in safety.
Lanky also ran in and Pete added five more
yards to his advance. Buck made another
dash, but leaped into the air, and, coming
down as if from an intentional high jump,
staggered and stumbled for a few paces and
then fell Alat, rolling over and over toward
the shelter of a split rock, where he lay quiet.
A leering red face peered over the rocks on
the knoll, but the whoop of exultation was cut
short, for Red's rifle cracked and the warrior
rolled down the steep bank, where another
shot from the same gun settled him beyond
question.
Hopalong choked and, turning his face
away, angrily dashed his knuckles into his
eyes.
“D-n'em! D-n 'em! They've got
Buck! They've got Buck, n'em! They've
74


THE LAW OF THE RANGE
got Buck, Skinny! Good old Buck! They've
got him! Jimmy's gone, Johnny's plugged,
and now Buck's gone! Come on!” he sobbed
in a frenzy of vengeance.
" Come on,
Skinny! We'll tear their cussed hides into a
deeper red than they are now! Oh, dn it,
I can't see—where's my gun?" He groped
for the rifle and fought Skinny when the lat-
ter, red-eyed but cool, endeavored to restrain
him. “ Lemme go, curse yu! Don't yu know
they got Buck? Lemme go!"
“ Downl Red's got th’skunk. Yu can't -
do nothin'-they'd drop yu afore yu took five v
steps. Red's got him, I tell yu! Do yu want
me to lick yu? We'll pay 'em with th' coals
of h-1 if yu'll keep yore headl" exclaimed
Skinny, throwing the crazed man heavily.
Musical tones, rising and falling in weird
octaves, whining pityingly, diabolically, sob-
bing in a fascinating monotone and slobbering
in ragged chords, calling as they swept over
the plain, always calling and exhorting, they
mingled in barbaric discord with the defiant
barks of the six-shooters and the inquiring
cracks of the Winchesters. High up in the
75


BAR-20
air several specks sailed and drifted, more
coming up rapidly from all directions. Buz-
zards know well where food can be found.
As Hopalong leaned back against a rock
he was hit in the thigh by a ricochet that tore
its way out, whirling like a circular saw, a
span above where it entered. The wound was
very nasty, being ripped twice the size made
by an ordinary shot, and it bled profusely.
Skinny crawled over and attended to it, mak-
ing a tourniquet of his neckerchief and
clumsily bandaging it with a strip torn from
his shirt.
“ Yore shore lucky, yu are," he grumbled
as he made his way back to his post, where he
vented his rancor by emptying the semi-
depleted magazine of his Winchester at the
knoll.
Hopalong began to sing and shout and he
talked of Jimmy and his childhood, interspers-
ing the broken narrative with choice selections
as sung in the music halls of Leavenworth and
Abilene. He wound up by yelling and strug-
gling, and Skinny had his hands full in hold-
ing him.
76


THE LAW OF THE RANGE
“Hopalong! Cassidy! Come out of that!
Keep quiet-yu'll shore git plugged if yu
don't stop that plungin'. For God's sake,
did yu hear that?" A bullet viciously hissed
between them and flattened out on a near-by
rock; others cut their way through the cha-
parral to the sound of falling twigs, and
Skinny threw himself on the struggling man
and strapped Hopalong with his belt to the
base of a honey mesquite that grew at his side.
“Hold still, now, and let that bandage
alone. Yu allus goes off th' range when yu
gets plugged,” he complained. He cut down
a cactus and poured the sap over the wounded
man's face, causing him to gurgle and look
around. His eyes had a sane look now and
Skinny slid off his chest.
“ Git that-belt loose; I ain't-no cow,
brokenly blazed out the picketed Hopalong.
Skinny did so, handed the irate man his Colts
and returned to his own post, from where he
fired twice, reporting the shots.
“I'm tryin' to get him on th' glance—th'
first one went high an' th other fell ilat,” he
explained.
77


BAR 20
Hopalong listened eagerly, for this was
shooting that he could appreciate. “Lemme
see,” he commanded. Skinny dragged him
over to a crack and settled down for another
try.
Where is he, Skinny? " asked Hopalong.
“ Behind that second big one. No, over
on this here side. See that smooth granite?
If I can get her there on th' right spot he'll
shore know it.” He aimed carefully and
fired.
Through Pete's glasses Hopalong saw a•
leaden splotch appear on the rock and he
notified the marksman that he was shooting
high. “Put her on that bump closer down,"
he suggested. Skinny did so and another yell
reached their ears.
That's a dandy. Yore shore all right,
yu old cuss,” complimented Hopalong, elated
at the success of the experiment.
Skinny fired again and a brown arm flopped
out into sight. Another shot struck it and it
jerked as though it were lifeless.
“He's cashed. See how she jumped? Like
78


THE LAW OF THE RANGE
a rope," remarked Skinny with a grin. The
arm lay quiet.
Pete had gained his last cover and was all
eyes and Colts. Lanky was also very close
in and was intently watching one particular
rock. Several shots echoed from the far side
of the knoll and they knew that Red was all
right. Billy was covering a cluster of rocks
that protruded above the others and, as they
looked, his rifle rang out and the last defender
leaped down and disappeared in the chaparral.
He wore yellow trousers and an old boiled
shirt.
By-an'-by, by all that's bad!” yelled
Hopalong. “Th' measly coyote! An' me
a-fillin' his ornery hide with liquor. Well,
they'll have to find him all over again now,"
he complained, astounded by the revelation.
He fired into the chaparral to express his
pugnacious disgust and scared out a huge
tarantula, which alighted on Skinny's chaps,
crawling rapidly toward the unconscious man's
neck. Hopalong's face hardened and he
slowly covered the insect and fired, driving
79


BAR 20
it into the sand, torn and lifeless. The bullet
touched the leathern garment and Skinny
remonstrated, knowing that Hopalong was
in no condition for fancy shooting.
“Huh!” exclaimed Hopalong. “That
was a tarantula what I plugged. He was
headin' for yore neck,” he explained, watch-
ing the chaparral with apprehension.
“Go 'way, was it? Bully for yu!” ex-
claimed Skinny, tarantulas being placed at par
with rattlesnakes, and he considered that
he had been saved from a horrible death.
Thought yu said they wasn't no bugs over
here," he added in an aggrieved tone.
“ They wasn't none. Yu brought 'em. I
only had th' main show-Gilas, rattlers an'
toads," he replied, and then added, " Ain't it
cussed hot up here?”
" She is. Yu won't have no cinch ridin'
home with that leg. Yu better take my cay-
use—he's busted more'n yourn," responded
Skinny
“Yore cayuse is at th' Cross Bar O, yu
wall-eyed pirute."
“Shore 'nuff. Funny how a feller forgets
80


THE LAW OF THE RANGE
sometimes. Lemme alone now, they's goin'
to git By-an'-by. Pete an' Lanky has just
went in after him."
That was what had occurred. The two
impatient punchers had grown tired of wait-
ing, and risked what might easily have been
death in order to hasten matters. The others
kept up a rapid fire, directed at the far end of
the chaparral on the knoll, in order to mask
the movements of their venturesome friends,
intending also to drive By-and-by toward them
so that he would be the one to get picked off
as he advanced.
Several shots rang out in quick succession
on the knoll and the chaparral became agi-
tated. Several more shots sounded from the
depth of the thicket and a mounted Indian
dashed out of the northern edge and headed
in Buck's direction. His course would take
him close to Buck, whom he had seen fall,
and would let him escape at a point midway
between Red and Skinny, as Lanky was on
the knoll and the range was very far to allow
effective shooting by these two.
Red saw him leave the chaparral and in
81


BAR -20
his haste to reload jammed the cartridge, and
By-and-by swept on toward temporary safety,
with Red dancing in a paroxysm of rage,
swelling his vocabulary with words he had
forgotten existed.
By-and-by, rising to his full height in the
saddle, turned and wiggled his fingers at the
frenzied Red and made several other signs
that the cowboy was in the humor to appre-
ciate to the fullest extent. Then he turned
and shook his rifle at the marksmen on the
larger knoll, whose best shots kicked up the
dust fully fifty yards too short. The pony
was sweeping toward the reservation and
friends only fifteen miles away, and By-and-by
knew that once among the mountains he would
be on equal footing at least with his enemies.
As he passed the rock behind which Buck lay
sprawled on his face he uttered a piercing
whoop of triumph and leaned forward on his
pony's neck. Twenty leaps farther and the
spiteful crack of an unerring rifle echoed from
where the foreman was painfully supporting
himself on his elbows. The pony swept on
in a spurt of nerve-racking speed, but alone.
82


THE LAW OF THE RANGE
By-and-by shrieked again and crashed heavily
to the ground, where he rolled inertly and
then lay still. Men like Buck are dangerous
until their hearts have ceased to beat.
83


Tidleness for those who had obstructed
CHAPTER VI
TRIALS OF THE CONVALESCENT
HE days at the ranch passed in irritating
the Aight of hostile lead, and worse than any
of the patients was Hopalong, who fretted
and fumed at his helplessness, which retarded
his recovery. But at last the day came when
he was fit for the saddle again, and he gave
notice of his joy in whoops and forthwith
announced that he was entitled to a holiday;
and Buck had not the heart to refuse him.
So he started forth in his quest of peace and
pleasure, but instead had found only trouble
and had been forced to leave his card at
almost every place he had visited.
There was that affair in Red Hot Gulch,
Colorado, where, under pressure, he had in-
vested sundry pieces of lead in the persons of
several obstreperous citizens and then had
84


TRIALS OF A CONVALESCENT
paced the zealous and excitable sheriff to the
state line.
He next was noticed in Cheyenne, where
his deformity was vividly dwelt upon, to the
extent of six words, by one Tarantula Char-
ley, the aforesaid Charley not being able to
proceed to greater length on account of heart
failure. As Charley had been a ubiquitous
nuisance, those present availed themselves of
the opportunity offered by Hopalong to in-
dulge in a free drink.
Laramie was his next stopping place, and
shortly after his arrival he was requested to
sing and dance by a local terror, who informed
all present that he was the only seventeen-
buttoned rattlesnake in the cow country.
Hopalong, hurt and indignant at being
treated like a common tenderfoot, promptly
knocked the terror down. After he had irri-
gated several square feet of parched throats
belonging to the audience he again took up
his journey and spent a day at Denver, where
he managed to avoid any further trouble.
Santa Fé loomed up before him several
days later and he entered it shortly before
85


BAR – 20
noon. At this time the old Spanish city was
a bundle of high-strung nerves, and certain
parts of it were calculated to furnish any and
all kinds of excitement except revival meet-
ings and church fairs. Hopalong straddled
a lively nerve before he had been in the city
an hour. Two local bad men, Slim Travennes
and Tex Ewalt, desiring to establish the fact
that they were roaring prairie fires, attempted
to consume the placid and innocent stranger
as he limped across the plaza in search of a
game of draw poker at the Black Hills Em-
porium, with the result that they needed re-
pairs, to the chagrin and disgust of their
immediate acquaintances, who endeavored to
drown their mortification and sorrow in rapid
but somewhat wild gun play, and soon remem-
bered that they had pressing engagements
elsewhere.
Hopalong reloaded his guns and proceeded
to the Emporium, where he found a game all
prepared for him in every sense of the word.
On the third deal he objected to the way in
which the dealer manipulated the cards, and
when the smoke cleared away he was the only
86


TRIALS OF A CONVALESCENT
occupant of the room, except a dog belonging
to the bartender that had intercepted a stray
bullet.
Hunting up the owner of the hound, he
apologized for being the indirect cause of the
animal's death, deposited a sum of Mexican
dollars in that gentleman's palm and went on
his way to Alameda, which he entered shortly
after dark, and where an insult, simmering
in its uncalled-for venom, met him as he
limped across the floor of the local dispensary
on his way to the bar. There was no time
for verbal argument and precedent had estab-
lished the manner of his reply, and his repar-
tee was as quick as light and most effective.
Having resented the epithets he gave his
attention to the occupants of the room.
Smoke drifted over the table in an agitated
cloud and dribbled lazily upward from the
muzzle of his six-shooter, while he looked
searchingly at those around him. Strained
and eager faces peered at his opponent, who
was sliding slowly forward in his chair, and
for the length of a minute no sound but the
guarded breathing of the onlookers could be
87


BAR 20
heard. This was broken by a nervous cough
from the rear of the room, and the faces
assumed their ordinary nonchalant expres-
sions, their rugged lines heavily shadowed in
the light of the flickering oil lamps, while the
shuffling of cards and the clink of silver
became audible. Hopalong Cassidy had
objected to insulting remarks about his afflic-
tion.
Hopalong was very sensitive about his
crippled leg and was always prompt to resent
any scorn or curiosity directed at it, especially
when emanating. from strangers.
man of twenty-three years, when surrounded
by nearly perfect specimens of physical man-
hood, is apt to be painfully self-conscious of
any such defect, and it reacted on his nature
at times, even though he was well known for
his happy-go-lucky disposition and playful-
He consoled himself with the knowl.
edge that what he lost in symmetry was more
than balanced by the celerity and certainty
of his gun hand, which was right or left, or
both, as the occasion demanded.
A young
ness.
88


TRIALS OF A CONVALESCENT
Several hours later, as his luck was vacil-
lating, he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder,
and was overjoyed at seeing Buck and Red,
the latter grinning as only Red could grin,
and he withdrew from the game to enjoy his
good fortune.
While Hopalong had been wandering over
the country the two friends had been hunting
for him and had traced him successfully, that
being due to the trail he had blazed with his
six-shooters. This they had accomplished
without harm to themselves, as those of whom
they inquired thought that they must want
Hopalong “bad," and cheerfully gave the
information required.
They had started out more for the purpose
of accompanying him for pleasure, but that
had changed to an urgent necessity in the
following manner:
While on the way from Denver to Santa
Fé they had met Pete Willis of the Three
Triangle, a ranch that adjoined their own,
and they paused to pass the compliments of
the season.
89


BAR 20
Purty far from th' grub wagon, Pie,”
remarked Buck.
“Oh, I'm only goin' to Denver,” re-
sponded Pie.
“Purty hot,” suggested Red.
“She shore is. Seen anybody yu knows?”
Pie asked.
“One or two Billy of th' Star Crescent
an' Panhandle Lukins," answered Buck.
" That so? Panhandle's goin' to punch
for us next year. I'll hunt him up. I heard
down south of Albuquerque that Thirsty
Jones an' his brothers are lookin' for trou-
ble," offered Pie.
'Yah! They ain't lookin' for no trouble
---they just goes around blowin' off. Trouble?
Why, they don't know what she is,” remarked
Red contemptuously.
“Well, they's been dodgin' th' sheriff purty
lively lately, an' if that ain't trouble I don't
know what is,” said Pie. -
" It shore is, an' hard to dodge,” acqui-
esced Buck.
Well, I has to amble. Is Panhandle in
Denver ? Yes? I calculates as how me an'
90


TRIALS OF A CONVALESCENT
him'll buck th' tiger for a whirl-he's v
shore lucky. Well, so long," said Pie as he
moved on.
So long," responded the two.
Hey, wait a minute,” yelled Pie after he
had ridden a hundred yards. “If yu seos
Hopalong yu might tell him that th' Joneses
are goin' to hunt him up when they gits to
Albuquerque. They's shore sore on him.
'Tain't none of my funeral, only they ain't
always a-carin' how they goes after a feller.
So long," and soon he was a cloud of dust on
the horizon.
"Trouble!” snorted Red; "well, between
dodgin' Harris an' huntin' Hopalong I reck-
ons they'll shore find her.” Then to himself
he murmured, “Funny how everythin' comes
his way."
“That's gospel shore enough, but, as Pie
said, they ain't a whole lot particular as how
they deal th' cards. We better get a move on.-
an' find that ornery little cuss," replied Buck.
“O. K., only I ain't losin' no sleep about
Hoppy. His gun's too lively for me to do
any worryin'," asserted Red.
91


BAR - 20
They'll get lynched some time, shore,”
declared Buck.
Not if they find Hoppy,” grimly replied
Red.
They tore through Santa Fé, only stopping
long enough to wet their throats, and after
several hours of hard riding entered Ala-
meda, where they found Hopalong in the
manner narrated.
After some time the three left the room
and headed for Albuquerque, twelve miles to
the south. At ten o'clock they dismounted
before the Nugget and Rope, an unpainted
wooden building supposed to be a clever com-
bination of barroom, dance and gambling hall
and hotel. The cleverness lay in the man who
could find the hotel part.
92


CHAPTER VII
THE OPEN DOOR
HE proprietor of the Nugget and Rope,
a German named Baum, not being
troubled with police rules, kept the door wide
open for the purpose of inviting trade, a
proceeding not to the liking of his patrons for
obvious reasons. Probably not one man in
ten was fortunate enough to have no one
looking for him," and the lighted interior
assured good hunting to any one in the dark
street. He was continually opening the door,
which every newcomer promptly and forcibly
slammed shut. When he saw men walk across
the room for the express purpose of slamming
it he began to cherish the idea that there was
a conspiracy on foot to anger him and thus
force him to bring about his own death. After
the door had been slammed three times in
one evening by one man, the last slam being
so forcible as to shake two bottles from the
93


BAR 20
shelf and to crack the door itself, he became
positive that his suspicions were correct, and
so was very careful to smile and take it as a
joke. Finally, wearied by his vain efforts to
keep it open and fearing for the door, he hit
upon a scheme, the brilliancy of which inflated
his chest and gave him the appearance of a
prize-winning bantam. When his patrons
strolled in that night there was no door to
slam, as it lay behind the bar.
When Buck and Red entered, closely fol.
lowed by Hopalong, they elbowed their way
to the rear of the room, where they could see
before being seen.
As yet they had said
nothing to Hopalong about Pie's warning
and were debating in their minds whether
they should do so or not, when Hopalong
interrupted their thoughts by laughing. They
looked up and he nodded toward the front,
where they saw that anxious eyes from all
parts of the room were focused on the open
door. Then they noticed that it had been
removed. The air of semi-hostile, semi-anx-
ious inquiry of the patrons and the smile of
satisfaction covering the face of Baum ap-
94


THE OPEN DOOR
pealed to them as the most ludicrous sight
their eyes had seen for months, and they
leaned back and roared with laughter, thus
calling forth sundry looks of disapproval from
the innocent causers of their merriment. But
they were too well known in Albuquerque to
allow the disapproval to approach a serious
end, and finally, as the humorous side of the
situation dawned on the crowd, they joined
in the laugh and all went merrily.
At the psychologic moment someone
shouted for a dance and the suggestion met
with uproarious approval. At that moment
Harris, the sheriff, came in and volunteered
to supply the necessary music if the crowd
would pay the fine against a straying fiddler
he had corraled the day before. A hat was
quickly passed and a sum was realized which
would pay several fines to come and Harris
departed for the music.
A chair was placed on the bar for the
musician and, to the tune of “Old Dan
Tucker ” and an assortment of similar airs,
the board floor shook and trembled. It was
a comical sight and Hopalong, the only wall-
95.


BAR - 20
flower besides Baum and the sheriff, laughed
until he became weak. Cow punchers play
as they work, hard and earnestly, and there
was plenty of action. Sombreros flapped like
huge wings and the baggy chaps looked like
small, distorted balloons.
The Virginia reel was a marvel of supple,
exaggerated grace and the quadrille looked
like a free-for-all for unbroken colts. The
honor of prompter was conferred upon the
sheriff, and he gravely called the changes as
they were usually called in that section of the
country:
“Oh, th' ladies trail in
An' th' gents trail out,
An' all stampede down th' middle.
If yu ain't got th' tin
Yu can dance an' shout,
But yu must keep up with th' fiddle.”
As the dance waxed faster and the dancers
grew hotter Hopalong, feeling lonesome be-
cause he wouldn't face ridicule, even if it was
not expressed, went over and stood by the
sheriff. He and Harris were good friends,
for he had received the wound that crippled
96


THE OPEN DOOR
.
him in saving the sheriff from assassination.
Harris killed the man who had fired that shot,
and from this episode on the burning desert
grew a friendship that was as strong as their
own natures.
Harris was very well liked by the majority
and feared by the rest, for he was a square
"'
man and the best sheriff the county had ever
known. Quiet and unassuming, small of
stature and with a kind word for every one,
he was a universal favorite among the better
class of citizens. Quick as a flash and unerr-
ing in his shooting, he was a nightmare to the
“bad men.” No profane word had ever been
known to leave his lips, and he was the pos-
sessor of a widespread reputation for gener-
osity. His face was naturally frank and open;
but when his eyes narrowed with determina-
tion it became blank and cold. When he saw
his young friend sidle over to him he smiled
and nodded a hearty welcome.
They's shore cuttin' her loose," remarked
Hopalong
“First two pairs forward an' back they
shore is," responded the prompter.
97


BAR -20
“Who's th' gent playin' lady to Buck?”
queried Hopalong.
Forward again an' ladies change !—Billy
Jordan.”
Hopalong watched the couple until they
swung around and then he laughed silently.
“Buck's got too many feet,” he seriously re-
marked to his friend.
“Swing th' girl yu loves th' best!-he
ain't lonesome, look at that"
Two shots rang out in quick succession and
Harris stumbled, wheeled and pitched for-
ward on his face as Hopalong's sombrero
spun across his body. For a second there was
an intense silence, heavy, strained and sicken-
ing. Then a roar broke forth and the crowd
of frenzied merry-makers, headed by Hopa-
long, poured out into the street and spread
out to search the town. As daylight dawned
the searchers began to straggle back with the
same report of failure. Buck and Red met on
the street near the door and each looked
questioningly at the other. Each shook his
head and looked around, their fingers toying
absent-mindedly at their belts. Finally Buck
.
98


THE OPEN DOOR
cleared his throat and remarked casually,
"Mebby he's following 'em."
Red nodded and they went over toward
their horses. As they were hesitating which
route to take, Billy Jordan came up.
'Mebby yu'd like to see yore pardner-
he's out by Buzzard's Spring. We'll take
care of him," jerking his thumb over his
shoulder toward the saloon where Harris's
body lay. "And we'll all git th' others later.
They can't git away for long.'
Buck and Red nodded and headed for Buz-
zard's Spring. As they neared the water hole
they saw Hopalong sitting on a rock, his head
resting in one hand while the other hung
loosely from his knee. He did not notice
them when they arrived, and with a ready
tact they sat quietly on their horses and looked
in every direction except toward him. The
sun became a ball of molten fire and the sand
flies annoyed them incessantly, but still they
sat and waited, silent and apologetic.
Hopalong finally arose, reached for his
sombrero, and, finding it gone, swore long
and earnestly at the scene its loss brought be.
99


BAR – 20
fore him. He walked over to his horse and,
leaping into the saddle, turned and faced his
friends. “Yu old sons-of-guns,” he said.
They looked sheepish and nodded negatively
in answer to the look of inquiry in his eyes.
They ain't got 'em yet,” remarked Red
slowly. Hopalong straightened up, his eyes
narrowed and his face became hard and reso-
lute as he led the way back toward the town.
Buck rode up beside him and, wiping his
face with his shirt sleeve, began to speak to
Red. “We might look up th' Joneses, Red.
They had been dodgin' th' sheriff purty lively
lately, an' they was huntin' Hopalong. Ever
since we had to kill their brother in Buckskin
they has been yappin' as how they was goin'
to wipe us out. Hopalong an' Harris was
standin' clost together an' they tried for both.
They shot twice, one for Harris an' one for
Hopalong, an' what more do yu want?”
“It shore looks thataway, Buck," replied
Red, biting into a huge plug of tobacco
which he produced from his chaps.
how, they wouldn't be no loss if they didn't.
'Member what Pie said?”
“ Any
100


THE OPEN DOOR
Hopalong looked straight ahead, and when
he spoke the words sounded as though he
had bitten them off: “ Yore right, Buck,
but I gits first try at Thirsty. He's my meat
an' I'll plug th fellow what says he ain't.
Damn him!”
The others replied by applying their spurs,
and in a short time they dismounted before
the Nugget and Rope. Thirsty wouldn't
have a chance to not care how he dealt the
cards.
Buck and Red moved quickly through the
crowd, speaking fast and earnestly. When
they returned to where they had left their
friend they saw him half a block away and
they followed slowly, one on either side of the
street. There would be no bullets in his back
if they knew what they were about, and they
usually did.
As Hopalong neared the corner, Thirsty
and his two brothers turned it and saw him.
Thirsty said something in a low voice, and
the other two walked across the street and
disappeared behind the store. When assured
that they were secure, Thirsty walked up to
IOI


BAR -20
a huge boulder on the side of the street
farthest from the store and turned and faced
his enemy, who approached rapidly until
about five paces away, when he slowed up and
finally stopped.
For a number of seconds they sized each
other up, Hopalong quiet and deliberate with
a deadly hatred; Thirsty pale and furtive with
a sensation hitherto unknown to him. It was
Right meeting Wrong, and Wrong lost confi-
dence. Often had Thirsty Jones looked
death in the face and laughed, but there was
something in Hopalong's eyes that made his
flesh creep.
He glanced quickly past his foe and took
in the scene with one flash of his eyes. There
was the crowd, eager, expectant, scowling.
There were Buck and Red, each lounging
against a boulder, Buck on his right, Red on
his left. Before him stood the only man he
had ever feared. Hopalong shifted his feet
and Thirsty, coming to himself with a start,
smiled. His nerve had been shaken, but he
was master of himself once more.
“Well!” he snarled, scowling.
102


THE OPEN DOOR
" Did
Hopalong made no response, but stared
him in the eyes.
Thirsty expected action, and the deadly
quiet of his enemy oppressed him. He stared
in turn, but the insistent searching of his
opponent's eyes scorched him and he shifted
his gaze to Hopalong's neck.
Welll” he repeated uneasily.
yu
have a nice time at th' dance last
night?" asked Hopalong, still searching the
face before him.
“ Was there a dance? I was over in Ala-
meda,” replied Thirsty shortly.
“Ya-as, there was a dance, an' yu can shoot
purty d-n far if yu was in Alameda,"
responded Hopalong, his voice low and
monotonous.
Thirsty shifted his feet and glanced around.
Buck and Red were still lounging against
their boulders and apparently were not pay-
ing any attention to the proceedings. His
fickle nerve came back again, for he knew he
would receive fair play. So he faced Hopa-
long once more and regarded him with a
cynical smile.
103


BAR -20
Yu seems to worry a whole lot about me.
Is it because yu has a tender feelin', or because
it's none of yore d-n business?” he asked
aggressively.
Hopalong paled with sudden anger, but
controlled himself.
" It's because yu murdered Harris," he
replied.
“Shoo! An' how does yu figger it out? "
asked Thirsty, jauntily.
“He was huntin' yu hard an' yu thought
yu'd stop it, so yu came in to lay for him.
When yu saw me an' him together yu saw th'
chance to wipe out another score. That's how
I figger it out,” replied Hopalong quietly.
“Yore a reg'lar 'tective, ain't yu?” Thirsty
asked ironically.
“I've got common sense,” responded Hop-
along.
“Yu has? Yu better tell th' rest that,
too,” replied Thirsty.
“I know yu shot Harris, an' yu can't get
out of it by makin' funny remarks. Anyhow,
yu won't be much loss, an' th' stage company
'll feel better, too."
104


THE OPEN DOOR
“Shoo! An' suppose I did shoot him, I
done a good job, didn't I?”
“Yu did the worst job yu could do, yu
highway robber,” softly said Hopalong, at
the same time moving nearer. “Harris knew
yu stopped th' stage last month, an' that's
why yu've been dodgin' him."
“Yore a liar!" shouted Thirsty, reaching
for his gun.
The movement was fatal, for before he
could draw, the Colt in Hopalong's holster
leaped out and flashed from its owner's hip
and Thirsty fell sideways, face down in the
dust of the street.
Hopalong started toward the fallen man,
but as he did so a shot rang out from behind
the store and he pitched forward, stumbled
and rolled behind the boulder. As he stum-
bled his left hand streaked to his hip, and
when he fell he had a gun in each hand.
As he disappeared from sight Goodeye and
Bill Jones stepped from behind the store and
started to run away. Not able to resist the
temptation to look again, they stopped and
turned and Bill laughed.
105


BAR - 20
Easy as h–1," he said.
Run, yu fool-Red an' Buck 'll be here.
Want to git plugged?” shouted Goodeye
angrily.
They turned and started for a group of
ponies twenty yards away, and as they leaped
into the saddles two shots were fired from the
street. As the reports died away Buck and
Red turned the corner of the store, Colts in
hand, and, checking their rush as they saw the
saddles emptied, they turned toward the street
and saw Hopalong, with blood oozing from
an abrasion on his cheek, sitting up cross-
legged, with each hand holding a gun, from
which came thin wisps of smoke.
“Th' son-of-a-gun!” cried Buck, proud and
delighted.
“Th' son-of-a-gun!" echoed Red, grin.
ning.
106


BAR 20
his trip, and he had left his two companions
at Albuquerque in order that he might have
to himself all that he could find.
Not many miles to the south of him lay the
town which had been the rendezvous of
Tamale José, whose weakness had been a
liking for other people's cattle. Well he
remembered his first man hunt: the discovery
of the theft, the trail and pursuit and—the
ending. He was scarcely eighteen years of
age when that event took place, and the wis-
dom he had absorbed then had stood him in
good stead many times since. He had even
now a touch of pride at the recollection how,
when his older companions had failed to get
Tamale José, he with his undeveloped strategy
had gained that end. The fight would never
be forgotten, as it was his first, and no sight
of wounds would ever affect him as did those
of Red Connors as he lay huddled up in the
dark corner of that old adobe hut.
He came to himself and laughed again as
he thought of Carmencita, the first girl he
had ever known-and the last. With a boy's
impetuosity he had wooed her in a manner
108


HOPALONG KEEPS HIS WORD
far different from that of the
peons
who
Sang
beneath her window and talked to her mother.
He had boldly scaled the wall and did his
courting in her house, trusting to luck and to
his own ability to avoid being seen. No hid-
den meaning lay in his words; he spoke from
his heart and with no concealment. And he
remembered the treachery that had forced
him, fighting, to the camp of his outfit; and
when he had returned with his friends she
had disappeared. To this day he hated that
mud-walled convent and those sisters who so
easily forgot how to talk. The fragrance of
the old days wrapped themselves around
him, and although he had ceased to pine
for his black-eyed Carmencita — well, it
would be nice if he chanced to see her
again. Spurring his mount into an easy can-
ter he swept down to and across the river,
fording it where he had crossed it when pursu-
ing Tamale José.
The town lay indolent under the Mexican
night, and the strumming of guitars and the
tinkle of spurs and tiny bells softly echoed
from several houses. The convent of St.
109


BAR -20
Maria lay indistinct in its heavy shadows and
the little church farther up the dusty street
showed dim lights in its stained windows. Off
to the north became audible the rhythmic
beat of a horse and soon a cowboy swept past
the convent with a mocking bow. He clat-
tered across the stone-paved plaza and threw
his mount back on its haunches as he stopped
before a house. Glancing around and deter-
mining to find out a few facts as soon as
possible, he rode up to the low door and
pounded upon it with the butt of his Colt.
After waiting for possibly half a minute and
receiving no response he hammered a tune
upon it with two Colts and had the satisfac-
tion of seeing half a score of heads protrude
from the windows in the nearby houses.
“If I could scare up another gun I might
get th' whole blamed town up,” he grumbled
whimsically, and fell on the door with an-
other tune.
Who is it?” came from within. The
voice was distinctly feminine and Hopalong
winked to himself in congratulation.
"Me," he replied, twirling his fingers from
ΙΙο


HOPALONG KEEPS HIS WORD
his nose at the curious, forgetting that the
darkness hid his actions from sight.
“Yes, I know; but who is 'me'?” came
from the house.
“ Ain't I a fool!” he complained to him-
self, and raising his voice he replied coaxingly,
Open th' door a bit an' see. Are
Are yu Car-
mencita?"
“ 0-0-0! But you must tell me who it is
first."
“Mr. Cassidy," he replied, flushing at the
mister,' and I wants to see Carmencita."
“ Carmencita who?” teasingly came from
behind the door.
Hopalong scratched his head. “Gee, yu've
roped me—I suppose she has got another
handle. Oh, yu know—she used to live here
about seven years back. She had great big
black eyes, pretty cheeks an'a mouth that 'ud
stampede anybody. Don't yu know now?
She was about so high," holding out his hands
in the darkness.
The door opened a trifle on a chain and
Hopalong peered eagerly forward.
“Ah, it is you, the brave Americano! You
III


BAR 20
must go away quick or you will meet with
harm. Manuel is awfully jealous and he will
kill you! Go at once, please! ”
Hopalong pulled at the half-hearted down
upon his lip and laughed softly. Then he
slid the guns back in their holsters and felt of
his sombrero.
“Manuel wants to see me first, Star Eyes."
'No! nol” she replied, stamping upon
the floor vehemently. “You must go now-
at once!"
“I'd shore look nice hittin' th' trail because
Manuel Somebody wants to get hurt, wouldn't
I? Don't yu remember how I used to shinny
up this here wall an' skin th' cat gettin'
through that hole up there what yu said was
a window? Ah, come on an' open th' door-
I'd shore like to see yu again!" pleaded the
irrepressible.
" Nol no! Go away. Oh, won't you
please go away!"
Hopalong sighed audibly and turned his
horse. As he did so he heard the door open
and a sigh reached his ears. He wheeled like
a flash and found the door closed again on its
I 12


HOPALONG KEEPS HIS WORD
chain. A laugh of delight came from be-
hind it.
Come out, please !—just for a minute,"
he begged, wishing that he was brave enough
to smash the door to splinters and grab her.
“If I do, will you go away?" asked the
girl. “Oh, what will Manuel say if he comes ?
And all those people, they'll tell him!
Hey, yul" shouted Hopalong, brandish-
ing his Colts at the protruding heads. “Git
scarce! I'll shore plug th' last one in i ” Then
he laughed at the sudden vanishing.
The door slowly opened and Carmencita,
fat and drowsy, wobbled out to him. Hopa-
long's feelings were interfering with his
breathing as he surveyed her. “Oh, yu shore
are mistaken, Mrs. Carmencita. I wants to
see yore daughter!”
" Ah, you have forgotten the little Car-
mencita who used to look for you. Like all
the men, you have forgotten,” she cooed re-
proachfully. Then her fear predominated
again and she cried, “Oh, if my husband
should see me now!
Hopalong mastered his astonishment and
113


BAR - 20
bowed. He had a desire to ride madly into
the Rio Grande and collect his senses.
“Yu are right this is too dangerous-
I'll amble on some,” he replied hastily. Un-
der his breath he prayed that the outfit would
never learn of this. He turned his horse and
rode slowly up the street as the door closed.
Rounding the corner he heard a soft foot-
fall, and swerving in his saddle he turned
and struck with all his might in the face of a
man who leaped at him, at the same time
grasping the uplifted wrist with his other
hand. A curse and the tinkle of thin steel
on the pavement accompanied the fall of his
opponent. Bending down from his saddle he
picked up the weapon and the next minute the
enraged assassin was staring into the unwav-
ering and, to him, growing muzzle of a
Colt's .45
Yu shore had a bum teacher. Don't yu
know better'n to push it in? An' me a cow-
puncher, too! I'm most grieved at yore
conduct-it shows you don't appreciate cow .
wrastlers. This is safer," he remarked,
throwing the stiletto through the air and into
114


HOPALONG KEEPS HIS WORD
a door, where it rang out angrily and quiv-
ered. “I don't know as I wants to ventilate
yu; we mostly poisons coyotes up my way,"
he added. Then a thought struck him. “Yu
must be that dear Manuel I've been hearin'
so much about?"
A snarl was the only reply and Hopalong
grinned.
“Yu shore ain't got no call to go loco that
way, none whatever. I don't want yore Car-
mencita. I only called to say hullou," re-
sponded Hopalong, his sympathies being
aroused for the wounded man before him
from his vivid recollection of the woman who
had opened the door.
" Yah!" snarled Manuel. “You wants
to poison my little bird. You with
your
fair
hair and your cursed swagger!'
The six-shooter tentatively expanded and
then stopped six inches from the Mexican's
“Yu wants to ride easy, hombre. I
ain't no angel, but I don't poison no woman;
an' don't yu amble off with th' idea in yore
head that she wants to be poisoned. Why,
she near stuck a knife in me!” he lied.
nose.
115


BAR,20
The Mexican's face brightened somewhat,
but it would take more than that to wipe out
the insult of the blow. The horse became
restless, and when Hopalong had effectively
quieted it he spoke again.
"Did yu ever hear of Tamale José ? "
“ Yes."
“Well, I'm th' fellow that stopped him in
th' 'dobe hut by th' arroyo. I'm tellin' yu
this so yu won't do nothin' rash an' leave
Carmencita a widow. Sabe?"
The hate on the Mexican's face redoubled
and he took a short step forward, but stopped
when the muzzle of the Colt kissed his nose.
He was the brother of Tamale José. As he
backed away from the cool touch of the
weapon he thought out swiftly his revenge.
Some of his brother's old companions were at
that moment drinking mescal in a saloon down
the street, and they would be glad to see this
Americano die. He glanced past his house at
the saloon and Hopalong misconstrued his
thoughts.
“Shore, go home. I'll just circulate around
some for exercise. No hard feelings, only yu
116


HOPALONG KEEPS HIS WORD
better throw it next time," he said as he
backed away and rode off. Manuel went
down the street and then ran into the saloon,
where he caused an uproar.
Hopalong rode to the end of the plaza
and tried to sing, but it was a dismal failure.
Then he felt thirsty and wondered why he
hadn't thought of it before. Turning his
horse and seeing the saloon he rode up to it
and in, lying flat on the animal's neck to avoid
being swept off by the door frame. His en-
trance scared white some half a dozen loung-
ers, who immediately sprang up in a decidedly
hostile manner.
Hopalong's Colts peeped
over the ears of his horse and he backed into
a corner near the bar.
“One, two,
three — now, altogether,
breathe! Yu acts like yu never saw a real
puncher afore. All th' same," he remarked,
nodding at several of the crowd, “ I've seen
yu afore. Yu are th' gents with th' hot-foot
get-a-way that vamoosed when we got
Tamale."
Curses were flung at him and only the
humorous mood he was in saved trouble. One,
117


BAR -20
bolder than the rest, spoke up: “ The señor
will not see any 'hot-foot get-a-way,' as he
calls it, now! The señor was not wise to go
so far away from his friends!”
Hopalong looked at the speaker and a
quizzical grin slowly spread over his face.
They'll shore feel glad when I tells them
yu was askin' for 'em. But didn't yu see too
v much of 'em once, or was yu poundin' leather
in the other direction? Yu don't want to
worry none about meman' if yu don't get
✓yore hands closter to yore neck they'll be h-
to pay! There, that's more like home," he
remarked, nodding assurance.
Reaching over he grasped a bottle and
poured out a drink, his Colt slipping from his
hand and dangling from his wrist by a thong.
As the weapon started to fall several of the
audience involuntarily moved as if to pick it
up. Hopalong noticed this and paused with
the glass half way to his lips. “Don't bother
yoreselves none; I can git it again," he said,
tossing off the liquor.
“Wow! Holy smoke!” he yelled. “This
ain't drink! Sufferin' coyotes, nobody can
118


HOPALONG KEEPS HIS WORD
One man,
accuse yu of sellin' liquor! Did yu make this
all by yoreself? ” he asked incredulously of
the proprietor, who didn't know whether to
run or to pray. Then he noticed that the
crowd was spreading out and his Colts again
became the center of interest.
“Yu with th' lovely face, sit down!” he
ordered as the person addressed was gliding
toward the door. “I ain't a-goin' to let yu
pot me from th' street. Th' first man who
tries to get scarce will stop somethin' hot.
An' yu all better sit down," he suggested,
sweeping them with his guns.
more obdurate than the rest, was slow in com-
plying and Hopalong sent a bullet through
the top of his high sombrero, which had a
most gratifying effect.
“You'll regret this!” hissed a man in the
rear, and a murmur of assent arose. Some
one stirred slightly in searching for a weapon
and immediately a blazing Colt froze him
into a statue.
'Yu shore looks funny; eeny, meeny, miny,
mo,” counted off the daring horseman;
move a bit an' off yu go," he finished. Then
119


BAR - 20
his face broke out in another grin as he
thought of more enjoyment.
“That there gent on th' left," he said,
pointing out with a gun the man he meant.
“Yu sing us a song. Sing a nice little song. ”
As the object of his remarks remained mute
he let his thumb ostentatiously slide back with
the hammer of the gun under it. 'Sing!
Quick!” The man sang.
As Hopalong leaned forward to say some-
thing a stiletto flashed past his neck and
crashed into the bottle beside him. The echo
of the crash was merged into a report as
Hopalong fired from his waist. Then he
backed out into the street and, wheeling,
galloped across the plaza and again faced the
saloon. A flash split the darkness and a bul-
let hummed over his head and thudded into
an adobe wall at his back. Another shot and
he replied, aiming at the flash. From down
the street came the sound of a window open-
ing and he promptly caused it to close again.
Several more windows opened and hastily
closed, and he rode slowly toward the far end
I 20


HOPALONG KEEPS HIS WORD
of the plaza. As he faced the saloon once
more he heard a command to throw up his
hands and saw the glint of a gun, held by a
man who wore the insignia of sheriff. Hopa-
long complied, but as his hands went up two
spurts of fire shot forth and the sheriff
dropped his weapon, reeled and sat down.
Hopalong rode over to him and, swinging
down, picked up the gun and looked the offi-
cer over.
“Shoo, yu'll be all right soon-yore only
plugged in th' arms,” he remarked as he
glanced up the street. Shadowy forms were
gliding from cover to cover and he imme-
diately caused consternation among them by
his accuracy.
“Ain't it h-1?” he complained to the
wounded man. “I never starts out but what
somebody makes me shoot 'em. Came down
here to see a girl an' find she's married. Then
when I moves on peaceable-like her husband
makes me hit him. Then I wants a drink an
he goes an' fans a knife at me, an' me just
teachin' him how! Then yu has to come along
I 21


BAR - 20
an' make more trouble. Now look at them
fools over there,” he said, pointing at a dark
shadow some fifty paces off. They're pat-
tin' their backs because I don't see 'em, an' if
I hurts them they'll git mad. Guess I'll make
v 'em dust along," he added, shooting into the
spot. A howl went up and two men ran away
at top speed.
The sheriff nodded his sympathy and
spoke. “I reckons you had better give up.
You can't get away. Every house, every
corner and shadow holds a man.
You are a
brave man-but, as you say, unfortunate.
Better help me up and come with me—they'll
tear you to pieces.'
“Shore I'll help yu up—I ain't got no
grudge against nobody. But my friends
know where I am an' they'll come down here
✓an' raise a ruction if I don't show up. So,
if it's all th' same to you, I'll be ambling right
along,” he said as he helped the sheriff to his
feet.
“Have you any objections to telling me
your name?” asked the sheriff as he looked
himself over.
I 22


HOPALONG KEEPS HIS WORD
“None whatever," answered Hopalong
heartily. “ I'm Hopalong Cassidy of th' Bar
20, Texas."
“ You don't surprise me—I've heard of
you,” replied the sheriff wearily. “You are
the man who killed Tamale José, whom I
hunted for unceasingly. I found him when
you had left and I got the reward. Come
again some time and I'll divide with you; two
hundred and fifty dollars,” he added craftily.
“I shore will, but I don't want no
money,” replied Hopalong as he turned away.
“Adios, señor," he called back.
Adios,” replied the sheriff as he kicked a
nearby door for assistance.
The cow-pony tied itself up in knots as it
pounded down the street toward the trail, and
although he was fired on he swung into the
dusty trail with a song on his lips. Several
hours later he stood dripping wet on the
American side of the Rio Grande and shouted
advice to a score of Mexican cavalrymen on
the opposite bank. Then he slowly picked his
way toward El Paso for a game at Faro
Dan's.
123


BAR – 20
The sheriff sat in his easy chair one night
some three weeks later, gravely engaged in
rolling a cigarette. His arms were practically
well, the wounds being in the Aeshy parts.
He was a philosopher and was disposed to
take things easy, which accounted for his
being in his official position for fifteen years.
A gentleman at the core, he was well educated
and had visited a goodly portion of the world.
A book of Horace lay open on his knees and
on the table at his side lay a shining new re-
volver, Hopalong having carried off his for-
mer weapon. He read aloud several lines and
in reaching for a light for his cigarette noticed
the new six-shooter. His mind leaped from
Horace to Hopalong, and he smiled grimly
at the latter's promise to call.
Glancing up, his eyes fell on a poster which
conveyed the information in Spanish and in
English that there was offered
FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS ($500)
R E W A R D
For Hopalong Cassidy, of the Ranch Known
as the Bar-20, Texas, U. S. A.
124


HOPALONG KEEPS HIS WORD
and which gave a good description of that
gentleman.
Sighing for the five hundred, he again took
up his book and was lost in its pages when he
heard a knock, rather low and timid. Wear-
ily laying aside his reading, he strode to the
door, expecting to hear a lengthy complaint
from one of his townsmen. As he threw the
door wide open the light streamed out and
lighted up a revolver and behind it the beam-
ing face of a cowboy, who grinned.
Well, I'll be damned !” ejaculated the
sheriff, starting back in amazement.
“ Don't say that, sheriff; you've got lots of
time to reform,” replied a humorous voice.
“How's th' wings ? "
“Almost well: you were considerate," re-
sponded the sheriff.
“Let's go in-somebody might see me out
here an' get into trouble,” suggested the vis-
itor, placing his foot on the sill.
“Certainly—pardon my discourtesy," said
the sheriff. “You see, I wasn't expecting you
to-night,” he explained, thinking of the elab-
orate preparations that he would have gone
125


BAR 20
to if he had thought the irrepressible would
call.
“Well, I was down this way, an' seeing as
how I had promised to drop in I just nat-
churally dropped," replied Hopalong as he
took the chair proffered by his host.
After talking awhile on everything and
nothing the sheriff coughed and looked uneas-
ily at his guest.
“Mr. Cassidy, I am sorry you called, for
I like men of your energy and courage and I
very much dislike to arrest you,” remarked
the sheriff. “Of course you understand that
you are under arrest,” he added with anxiety.
“Who, me?" asked Hopalong with a
rising inflection.
"Most assuredly," breathed the sheriff.
Why, this is the first time I ever heard
anything about it," · replied the astonished
cow-puncher. “ I'm an American-don't
that make any difference?”
“ Not in this case, I'm afraid. You see,
it's for manslaughter."
“Well, don't that beat th' devil, now?"
said Hopalong. He felt sorry that a citizen
126


HOPALONG KEEPS HIS WORD
of the glorious United States should be prey
for troublesome sheriffs, but he was sure that
his duty to Texas called upon him never to
submit to arrest at the hands of a Greaser.
Remembering the Alamo, and still behind his
Colt, he reached over and took up the shining
weapon from the table and snapped it open
on his knee. After placing the cartridges in
his pocket he tossed the gun over on the bed
and, reaching inside his shirt, drew out an-
other and threw it after the first.
“That's yore gun; I forgot to leave it,”
he said, apologetically. Anyhow yu needs
two," he added.
Then he glanced around the room, noticed
the poster and walked over and read it. A
full swift sweep of his gloved hand tore it
from its fastenings and crammed it under his
belt. The glimmer of anger in his eyes
gave way as he realized that his head
was worth a definite price, and he smiled
at what the boys would say when he showed
it to them. Planting his feet far apart and
placing his arms akimbo he faced his host in
grim defiance.
127


BAR 20
.
“Got any more of these?” he inquired,
placing his hand on the poster under his belt.
Several," replied the sheriff.
“Trot'em out,” ordered Hopalong
shortly.
The sheriff sighed, stretched and went over
to a shelf, from which he took a bundle of
the articles in question. Turning slowly he
looked at the puncher and handed them to
him.
I reckons they's all over this here town,"
remarked Hopalong.
They are, and you may never see Texas
again.”
“So? Well, yu tell yore most particular
friends that the job is worth five thousand,
and that it will take so many to do it that
'when th' mazuma is divided up it won't buy
a meal. There's only one man in this country
to-night that can earn that money, an' that's
me ,” said the puncher. “An' I don't need
it,” he added, smiling.
But
you are my prisoner—you are under
arrest,” enlightened the sheriff, rolling an-
other cigarette. The sheriff spoke as if asking
128


HOPALONG KEEPS HIS WORD
a question. Never before had five hundred
dollars been so close at hand and yet so unob-
tainable. It was like having a check-book but
no bank account.
“ I'm shore sorry to treat yu mean," re-
marked Hopalong, “ but I was paid a month
in advance an' I'll have to go back an' earn it.”
"You can--if you say that you will re-
turn,” replied the sheriff tentatively. The
sheriff meant what he said and for the mo-
ment had forgotten that he was powerless
and was not the one to make terms.
Hopalong was amazed and for a time his
ideas of Greasers staggered under the blow."
Then he smiled sympathetically as he realized
that he faced a white man.
“Never like to promise nothin',” he re-
plied. “I might get plugged, or something
might happen that wouldn't let me." Then
his face lighted up as a thought came to him.
Say, I'll cut th’ cards with yu to see if I
comes back or not."
The sheriff leaned back and gazed at the
cool youngster before him. A smile of satis-
faction, partly at the self-reliance of his guest
129


BAR – 20
and partly at the novelty of his situation,
spread over his face. He reached for a pack
of Mexican cards and laughed. "God!
You're a cool one-I'll do it. What do you
call?"
Red,” answered Hopalong.
The sheriff slowly raised his hand and
revealed the ace of hearts.
Hopalong leaned back and laughed, at the
same time taking from his pocket the six
extracted cartridges. Arising and going over
to the bed he slipped them in the chambers of
the new gun and then placed the loaded
weapon at the sheriff's elbow.
“Well, I reckon I'll amble, sheriff," he said
✓ as he opened the door. “If yu ever sifts up
my way drop in an' see me--th' boys 'll give
yu a good time.”
“Thanks; I will be glad to," replied the
sheriff. “You'll take your pitcher to the well
once too often some day, my friend. This
courtesy,” glancing at the restored revolver,
might have cost you dearly.”
“Shoo! I did that once an' th' feller tried
to use it," replied the cowbow as he backed
130


HOPALONG KEEPS HIS WORD
through the door. “Some people are awfully
careless," he added. “So long-
“So long," replied the sheriff, wondering
what sort of a man he had been entertaining.
The door closed softly and soon after a
joyous whoop floated in from the street. The
sheriff toyed with the new gun and listened to
the low caress of a distant guitar.
“Well, don't that beat hell?" he ejacu- v
lated.
131


THE ADVENT OF MCALLISTER
man.
saw a madly pounding horse, and it carried a
The latter turned in his saddle and
raised a gun to his shoulder and the thunder
that issued from it caused the creeping audi-
ence to throw up their tails in sudden panic
and bury themselves out of sight in the sand.
The horse was only a broncho, its sides cov. V
ered with hideous yellow spots, and on its
near flank was a peculiar scar, the brand.
Foam flecked from its crimsoned jaws and
found a resting place on its sides and on the
hairy chaps of its rider. Sweat rolled and
streamed from its heaving flanks and was
greedily sucked up by the drought-cursed
alkali. Close to the rider's knee a bloody
furrow ran forward and one of the broncho's
ears was torn and limp. The broncho was
doing its best-it could run at that pace until
it dropped dead. Every ounce of strength it
possessed was put forth to bring those hind
hoofs well in front of the forward ones and
to send them pushing the sand behind in
streaming clouds. The horse had done this
same thing many times—when would its mas:
ter learn sense?
133


BAR -20
The man was typical in appearance with
many of that broad land. Lithe, sinewy and
bronzed by hard riding and hot suns, he sat
in his Cheyenne saddle like a centaur, all his
weight on the heavy, leather-guarded stirrups,
his body rising in one magnificent straight
line. A bleached moustache hid the thin lips,
and a gray sombrero threw a heavy shadow
across his eyes. Around his neck and over
his open, blue flannel shirt lay loosely a
knotted silk kerchief, and on his thighs a pair
of open-flapped holsters swung uneasily with
their ivory handled burdens. He turned
abruptly, raised his gun to his shoulder and
fired, then he laughed recklessly and patted
his mount, which responded to the confident
caress by lying flatter to the earth in a spurt
of heart-breaking speed.
“ I'll show 'em who they're trailin'. This
is th' second time I've started for Muddy
Wells, an' I'm goin' to git there, too, for all
th' Apaches out of Hades!
To the south another cloud of dust rapidly
approached and the rider scanned it closely,
for it was directly in his path. As he watched
134


THE ADVENT OF MCALLISTER
it he saw something wave and it was a som-
brero! Shortly afterward a real cowboy yell
reached his ears. He grinned and slid an-
other cartridge in the greasy, smoking barrel
of the Sharp's and fired again at the cloud in
his rear. Some few minutes later a whoop-
ing, bunched crowd of madly riding cowboys
thundered past him and he was recognized. .
“Hullo, Frenchy!” yelled the nearest one.
“ Comin' back?"
“Come on, McAllister!" shouted another;
we'll give 'em blazes!” In response the
straining broncho suddenly stiffened, bunched
and slid on its haunches, wheeled and retraced
its course. The rear cloud suddenly scattered
into many smaller ones and all swept off to
the east. The rescuing band overtook them
and, several hours later, when seated around
a table in Tom Lee's saloon, Muddy Wells,
a count was taken of them, which was pleas-
ing in its facts.
“We was huntin' coyotes when we saw
yu," said a smiling puncher who was known
as Salvation Carroll chiefly because he wasn't.
“Yep! They've been stalkin' Tom's chick-
135


BAR - 20
ens,” supplied Waffles, the champion poker
player of the outfit. Tom Lee's chickens
could whip anything of their kind for miles
around and were reverenced accordingly.
“Sho! Is that so?” asked Frenchy with
mild incredulity, such a state of affairs being
deplorable.
“She shore is!” answered Tex Le Blanc,
and then, as an afterthought, he added,
“Where'd yu hit th’ War-whoops ?”
'Bout four hours back. This here's th'
second time I've headed for this place-last
time they chased me to Las Cruces.”
“That so ? " asked Bigfoot Baker, a giant.
“Ain't they allus interferin', now? Anyhow,
they're better 'n coyotes."
“They was purty well heeled," suggested
Tex, glancing at a bunch of repeating Win-
chesters of late model which lay stacked in a
Charley here said he thought they
was from th’ way yore cayuse looked, didn't
yu, Charley?" Charley nodded and filled
his pipe.
'Pears like a feller can't amble around
corner.
136


THE ADVENT OF MCALLISTER
much nowadays without havin' to fight,”
grumbled Lefty Allen, who usually went out
of his way hunting up trouble.
“We're goin' to th' Hills as soon as our
cookie turns up," volunteered Tenspot Davis,
looking inquiringly at Frenchy. “Heard any
more news?"
“Nope. Same old story-lots of gold.
Shucks, I've bit on so many of them rumors
that they don't feaze me no more. One man
who don't know nothin' about prospectin'
goes an' stumbles over a fortune an' those
who know it from A to Izzard goes 'round
pullin' in their belts."
“We don't pull in no belts we knows just
where to look, don't we, Tenspot?” remarked
Tex, looking very wise.
“Ya-as we do," answered Tenspot, "if yu
hasn't dreamed about it, we do."
“Yu wait; I wasn't dreamin', none what-
ever," assured Tex. “I saw it!"
“Ya-as, I saw it too onct," replied Frenchy
with sarcasm. “Went and lugged fifty pound
of it all th' way to th' assay office—took me
137


BAR – 20
two days; an' that there four-eyed cuss looks
at it and snickers. Then he takes me by th'
arm an' leads me to th' window. See that
pile, my friend? That's all like yourn,” sez
v he. “It's worth about one simoleon a ton at
th' coast. They use it for ballast.'”
“Aw! But this what I saw was gold!”
exploded Tex.
“So was mine, for a while!” laughed
Frenchy, nodding to the bartender for an-
other round.
Well, we're tired of punchin' cows! Ride
sixteen hours a day, year in an' year out, an'
what do we get? Fifty a month an' no chance
to spend it, an' grub that 'd make a coyote
sniffle! I'm for a vacation, an' if I goes
broke, why, I'll punch again!" asserted Waf-
fles, the foreman, thus revealing the real pur-
pose of the trip.
“What 'd yore boss say?" asked Frenchy.
“Whoop! What didn't he say! Honest,
I never thought he had it in him. It was fine.
He cussed an hour frontways an' then trailed
back on a dead gallop, with us a-laughin' fit
to hest. Then he rustles for his gun an' we
138


THE ADVENT OF MCALLISTER
rustles for town," answered Waffles, laughing
at his remembrance of it.
As Frenchy was about to reply his som-
brero was snatched from his head and disap-
peared. If he got mad” he was to be
regarded as not sufficiently well acquainted
for banter and he was at once in hot water;
if he took it good-naturedly he was one of the
crowd in spirit; but in either case he didn't
get his hat without begging or fighting for it.
This was a recognized custom among the
O-Bar-O outfit and was not intended as an
insult.
Frenchy grabbed at the empty air and
arose. Punching Lefty playfully in the ribs
he passed his hands behind that person's back.
Not finding the lost head-gear he laughed
and, tripping Lefty up, fell with him and,
reaching up on the table for his glass, poured
the contents down Lefty's back and arose.
“Yu son-of-a-gun!” indignantly wailed
that unfortunate. “Gee, it feels funny," he
added, grinning as he pulled the wet shirt
away from his spine.
“Well, I've got to be amblin',” said
139


BAR 20
Frenchy, totally ignoring the loss of his hat.
“Goin' down to Buckskin," he offered, and
then asked, “When's yore cook comin'?”
Day after to-morrow, if he don't get
loaded,” replied Tex.
“ Who is he?"
"A one-eyed Greaser-Quiensabe An-
tonio."
“I used to know him. He's a h- of a
cook. Dished up th' grub one season when
I was punchin' for th’ Tin-Cup up in Mon-
tana," replied Frenchy.
'Oh, he kin cook now, all right,” replied
Waffles.
“That's about all he can cook. Useter
wash his knives in th' coffee pot an' blow on
th' tins. I chased him a mile one night for
leavin' sand in th' skillet. Yu can have him
I don't envy yu none whatever."
“He don't sand no skillet when little Ten-
spot's around,” assured that person, slapping
his holster. “Does he, Lefty ?”
“ If he does, yu oughter be lynched," con-
soled Lefty.
Well, so long,” remarked Frenchy, rid-
140


THE ADVENT OF MCALLISTER
ing off to a small store, where he bought a
cheap sombrero.
Frenchy was a jack-of-all-trades, having
been cow-puncher, prospector, proprietor of
a "hotel" in Albuquerque, foreinan of a
ranch, sheriff, and at one time had played
angel to a venturesome but poor show troupe.
Besides his versatility he was well known as
the man who took the stage through the Sioux
country when no one else volunteered. He
could shoot with the best, but his one pride
was the brand of poker he handed out. Fur-
thermore, he had never been known to take
an unjust advantage over any man and, on the
contrary, had frequently voluntarily handi-
capped himself to make the event more inter-
esting. But he must not be classed as being
hampered with self-restraint.
His reasons for making this trip were two-
fold: he wished to see Buck Peters, the fore-
man of the Bar-20 outfit, as he and Buck had
punched cows together twenty years before
and were firm friends; the other was that he
wished to get square with Hopalong Cassidy,
who had decisively cleaned him out the year
141


BAR - 20
before at poker. Hopalong played either
in great good luck or the contrary, while
Frenchy played an even, consistent game and
usually left off richer than when he began,
and this decisive defeat bothered him more
than he would admit, even to himself.
The round-up season was at hand and the
Bar-20 was short of ropers, the rumors of
fresh gold discoveries in the Black Hills hav-
ing drawn all the more restless men north.
The outfit also had a slight touch of the gold
fever, and only their peculiar loyalty to the
ranch and the assurance of the foreman that
when the work was over he would accompany
them, kept them from joining the rush of
those who desired sudden and much wealth
as the necessary preliminary of painting some
v cow town in all the “bang up” style such an
event would call for. Therefore they had
been given orders to secure the required assist-
ance, and they intended to do so, and were
prepared to kidnap, if necessary, for the
glamour of wealth and the hilarity of the
vacation made the hours falter in their speed.
! As Frenchy leaned back in his chair in
142


BAR -20
drawled as he pulled back the collar of the
unfortunate's shirt.
“Ow! wow! WOW!" wailed the recip-
ient, heaving and straining. The unengaged
leg was suddenly wrested loose, and as it shot
up and out Billy Williams, with his pessimism
aroused to a blue-ribbon pitch, sat down forci-
bly in an adjacent part of the room, from
where he lectured between gasps on the follies
of mankind and the attributes of army mules.
Red tiptoed around the squirming bunch,
looking for an opening, his pleased expression
now having added a grin.
Seems to be gittin' violent-like,” he solilo-
quized, as he aimed a stream at Hopalong's
ear, which showed for a second as Pete Wil-
son strove for a half-nelson, and he managed
to include Johnny and Pete in his effort.
Several minutes later, when the storm had
subsided, the woeful crowd enthusiastically
urged Hopalong to the bar, where he
“bought."
“Of all th' ornery outfits I ever saw—"
began the man at the table, grinning from ear
to ear at the spectacle he had just witnessed.
144


THE ADVENT OF MCALLISTER
“Why, hullo, Frenchy! Glad to see yu,
yu old son-of-a-gun! What's th' news from
th' Hills ? " shouted Hopalong.
“ Rather locoed, an' there's a locoed gang
that's headin' that way. Goin' up?” he
asked.
“ Shore, after round-up. Seen any punch-
ers trailin' around loose?”
“ Ya-as, drawled Frenchy, delving into
the possibilities suddenly opened to him and
determining to utilize to the fullest extent the
opportunity that had come to him unsought.
“There's nine over to Muddy Wells that yu
might git if yu wants them bad enough.
They've got a sombrero of mine," he added
deprecatingly.
"Nine! Twisted Jerusalem, Buck! Nine u
whole cow-punchers a-pinin' for work,”
he shouted, but then added thoughtfully,
“ Mebby they's engaged," it being one of the
courtesies of the land not to take another
man's help.
"Nope. They've stampeded for th' Hills
an' left their boss all alone,” replied Frenchy,
well knowing that such desertion would not,
145


BAR 20
in the minds of the Bar-20 men, add any
merits to the case of the distant outfit.
“Th’sons-of-guns," said Hopalong, “ let's
go an' get 'em,” he suggested, turning to
Buck, who nodded a smiling assent.
'Oh, what's the hurry?” asked Frenchy,
seeing his projected game slipping away into
the uncertain future and happy in the thought
that he would be avenged on the O-Bar-O
outfit. They'll be there till to-morrow noon
-they's waitin' for their cookie, who's goin'
with them."
“A cook! A cook! Oh, joy, a cook!'
exulted Johnny, not for one instant doubting
Buck's ability to capture the whole outfit and
seeing a whirl of excitement in the effort.
Anybody we knows?” inquired Skinny
Thompson.
“Shore. Tenspot Davis, Waffles, Salva-
tion Carroll, Bigfoot Baker, Charley Lane,
Lefty Allen, Kid Morris, Curley Tate an'
Tex Le Blanc," responded Frenchy.
“Umm-m. Might as well rope a bliz-
zard,” grumbled Billy. “Might as well try
to git th' Seventh Cavalry. We'll have a
146


THE ADVENT OF MCALLISTER
pious time corralling that bunch. Them's th'
fellows that hit that bunch of inquirin' Crow
braves that time up in th' Bad Lands an' then
said by-bye to th' Ninth."
Aw, shut up! They's only two that's
very much, an' Buck an' Hopalong can sing
'em to sleep,” interposed Johnny, afraid that
the expedition would fall through.
" How about Curley and Tex?” pugna-
ciously asked Billy.
' Huh, jest because they buffaloed yu over
to Las Vegas yu needn't think they's danger-
Salvation an' Tenspot are th' only ones
who can shoot,” stoutly maintained Johnny.
"Here yu, get mum," ordered Buck to the
pair. “When this outfit goes after anything
it generally gets it. All in favor of kidnappin'
that outfit signify th' same by kickin' Billy,”
whereupon Bill swore.
“Do yu want yore hat?" asked Buck,
turning to Frenchy.
“I shore do," answered that individual.
“If yu helps us at th' round-up we'll get
it for yu. Fifty a month an' grub," offered v
the foreman.
ous.
147


BAR 20
“O. K.,” replied Frenchy, anxious to even
matters.
Buck looked at his watch. “Seven o'clock
we ought to get there by five if we relays
at th' Barred-Horseshoe. Come on."
How are we goin' to git them?” asked
Billy.
“Yu leave that to me, son. Hopalong an'
Frenchy 'll tend to that part of it,” replied
Buck, making for his horse and swinging into
the saddle, an example which was followed by
the others, including Frenchy.
As they swung off Buck noticed the condi-
tion of Frenchy's mount and halted. "Yu
take that cayuse back an' get Cowan's," he
ordered.
“ That cayuse is good for Cheyenne—she
eats work, an' besides I wants my own,"
laughed Frenchy.
Yu must had a reg'lar picnic from th'
looks of that crease," volunteered Hopalong,
whose curiosity was mastering him.
“Shoo! I had a little argument with some
feather dusters—th' 0-Bar-O crowd cleaned
them up.
148


THE ADVENT OF MCALLISTER
That so?" asked Buck.
“Yep! They sorter got into th' habit of
chasin' me to Las Cruces an' forgot to stop."
“How many 'd yu get?" asked Lanky
Smith.
“Twelve. Two got away.
I got two
before th' crowd showed up—that makes
fo'teen."
Now th' cavalry'll be huntin' yu,"
croaked Billy.
“Hunt nothin'! They was in war-paint-
think I was a target ?—think I was goin' to
call off their shots for 'em?"
They relayed at the Barred-Horseshoe and
went on their way at the same pace. Shortly
after leaving the last-named ranch Buck
turned to Frenchy and asked, “ Any of that
outfit think they can play poker ? "
“Shore. Waffles."
“Does th' reverend Mr. Waffles think so
very hard?"
“He shore does."
Do th' rest of them mavericks think so
too?"
“ They'd bet their shirts on him."
149


BAR -20
At this juncture all were startled by a sud-
den eruption from Billy. “Haw! Haw!
Haw!” he roared as the drift of Buck's in-
tentions struck him. “Haw! Haw! Haw!"
Here, yu long-winded coyote,” yelled
Red, banging him over the head with his quirt,
" If yu don't 'Haw! Haw!' away from my
ear I'll make it a Wow! Wow! What d'yu
✓ mean? Think I am a echo cliff? Yu slab-
sided doodle-bug, yu!”
“G'way, yu crimson topknot, think my
head's a hunk of quartz ? Fer a plugged peso
I'd strew yu all over th' scenery!" shouted
Billy, feigning anger and rubbing his head.
“There ain't no scenery around here,” in-
terposed Lanky. “This here be-utiful pros-
pect is a sublime conception of th' devil."
' Easy, boy! Them highfalutin' words 'll
give yu a cramp some day. Yu talk like a
newly-made sergeant,” remarked Skinny.
“ He learned them words from that sky-
pilot over at El Paso," volunteered Hopa-
long, winking at Red. “He used to amble
down th' aisle afore the lights was lit so's he
✓ could get a front seat. That was all hunky
150


THE ADVENT OF MCALLISTER
for a while, but every time he'd go out to
irrigate, that female organ-wrastler would
seem to call th' music off for his special bene-
fit. So in a month he'd sneak in an' freeze
to a chair by th' door, an' after a while he'd
shy like blazes every time he got within eye
range of th' church.”
“Shore. But do yu know what made him
get religion all of a sudden? He used to
hang around on th' outside after th' joint let v
out an' trail along behind th' music-slinger,
lookin' like he didn't know what to do with
his hands. Then when he got woozy one
time she up an' told him that she had got a
nice long letter from her hubby. Then Mr.
Lanky hit th' trail for Santa Fé so hard that
there wasn't hardly none of it left. I didn't
see him for a whole month," supplied Red
innocently.
“Yore shore funny, ain't yu? "sarcastically
grunted Lanky. “Why, I can tell things on
yu that 'd make yu stand treat for a year."
“I wouldn't sneak off to Santa Fé an cheat
yu out of them. Yu ought to be ashamed of
yoreself.”
151


BAR-20
" About
“Yah!” snorted the aggrieved little man.
“I had business over to Santa Fél”
Shore," indorsed Hopalong. "We've
all had business over to Santa Fé. Why,
about eight years ago I had business"
“Choke up,” interposed Red.
eight years ago yu was washin' pans for
cookie an' askin' me for cartridges. Buck
used to larrup yu about four times a day eight
years ago.
To their roars of laughter Hopalong
dropped to the rear, where, red-faced and
quiet, he bent his thoughts on how to get
square.
“We'll have a pleasant time corralling that
gang," began Billy for the third time.
“For heaven's sake get off that traill"
replied Lanky. “We ain't goin' to hold 'em
up. De-plomacy's th' game."
Billy looked dubious and said nothing. If
he hadn't proven that he was as nervy as any
man in the outfit they might have taken more
stock in his grumbling.
“What's the latest from Abilene way?"
asked Buck of Frenchy.
152


THE ADVENT OF MCALLISTER
“Nothin' much 'cept th' barb-wire rucov
tion," replied the recruit.
“What's that?" asked Red, glancing ap-
prehensively back at Hopalong.
Why, th' settlers put up barb-wire fence
so's th' cattle wouldn't get on their farms.
That would a been all right, for there wasn't
much of it. But some Britishers who own a
couple of big ranches out there got smart all
of a sudden an' strung wire all along their
lines. Punchers crossin' th' country would
run plumb into a fence an' would have to
ride a day an'a half, mebby, afore they found
th' corner. Well, naturally, when a man has
been used to ridin' where he blanie pleases
an' as straight as he pleases he ain't goin' to
chase along a five-foot fence to 'Frisco when
he wants to get to Waco. So th' punchers
got to totin' wire-snips, an' when they runs up
agin a fence they cuts down half a mile or so.
Sometimes they'd tie their ropes to a strand
an' pull off a couple of miles an' then go back
after th' rest. Th' ranch bosses sent out men
to watch th' fences an' told 'em to shoot any
festive puncher that monkeyed with th' hard
153


BAR - 20
ware.
Well, yu know what happens when a
puncher gets shot at."
“When fences grow in Texas there'll be
th' devil to pay,” said Buck. He hated to
think that some day the freedom of the range
would be annulled, for he knew that it would
be the first blow against the cowboys' occupa-
tion. When a man's cattle couldn't spread
out all over the land he wouldn't have to keep
so many men. Farms would spring up and
the sun of the free-and-easy cowboy would
slowly set.
“I reckons th' cutters are classed th' same
as rustlers," remarked Red with a gleam of
temper.
By th' owners, but not by th' punchers;
an' it's th' punchers that count,” replied
Frenchy.
“Well, we'll give them a fight,” interposed
Hopalong, riding up.
“When it gets so I
can't go where I please I'll start on th' war-
path. I won't buck the cavalry, but I'll keep
it busy huntin' for me an' I'll have time to
'tend to th' wire-fence men, too. Why, we'll
be told we can't tote our guns!”
“ They're sayin'
sayin' that
that now," replied
154


THE ADVENT OF MCALLISTER
Frenchy. “Up in Topeka, Smith, who's now
marshal, makes yu leave 'em with th' bar-
tenders."
“I'd like to see any two-laigged cuss get
my guns if I didn't want him to!” began
Hopalong, indignant at the idea.
“Easy, son," cautioned Buck. “Yu would
do what th' rest did because yu are a square
man. I'm about as hard-headed a puncher as
ever straddled leather an' I've had to use my
guns purty considerable, but I reckons if any
decent marshal asked me to cache them in a
decent way, why, I'd do it. An' let me brand
somethin' on yore mind—I've heard of Smith
of Topeka, an' he's mighty nifty with his
hands. He don't stand off an' tell yu to
unload yore lead-ranch, but he ambles up close
an' taps yu on yore shirt; if yu makes a gun.“
play he naturally knocks yu clean across th'
room an' unloads yu afore yu gets yore senses
back. He weighs about a hundred an' eighty
an' he's shore got sand to burn."
" Yah! When I makes a gun play she
plays! I'd look nice in Abilene or Paso or
Albuquerque without my guns, wouldn't I?
Just because I totes them in plain sight I've
155


BAR - 20
got to hand 'em over to some liquor-wrastler?
I reckons not! Some hip-pocket skunk would
plug me afore I could wink. I'd shore look
nice loping around a keno layout without my
guns, in th' same town with some cuss huntin'
me, wouldn't I? A whole lot of good a mar.
shal would a done Jimmy, an' didn't Harris
get his from a cur in th' dark?" shouted
Hopalong, angered by the prospect.
“We're talkin' about Topeka, where
everybody has to hang up their guns," replied
Buck. "An' there's th' law "
“To blazes with th' law!" whooped Hop-
along in Red's ear as he unfastened the cinch
of Red's saddle and at the same time stabbing
that unfortunate's mount with his
spurs,
thereby causing a hasty separation of the two.
When Red had picked himself up and things
had quieted down again the subject was
changed, and several hours later they rode
into Muddy Wells, a town with a little more
excuse for its existence than Buckskin. The
wells were in an arid valley west of Guada-
loupe Pass, and were not only muddy but
more or less alkaline.
156


CHAPTER X
PEACE HATH ITS VICTORIES
A
S they neared the central group of build-
ings they heard a hilarious and assertive
song which sprang from the door and win-
dows of the main saloon. It was in jig time,
rollicking and boisterous, but the words had
evidently been improvised for the occasion,
as they clashed immediately with those which
sprang to the minds of the outfit, although
they could not be clearly distinguished. As
they approached nearer and finally dis-
mounted, however, the words became recog-
nizable and the visitors were at once placed
in harmony with the air of jovial recklessness
by the roaring of the verses and the stamping
of the time.
Ob we're red-hot cow-punchers playin' on our luck,
An' there ain't a proposition that we won't buck:
From sunrise to sunset we've ridden on the range,
But now we're off for a howlin' change.
157


BAR 20
Chorus.
Laugh a little, sing a little, all th' day;
Play a little, drink a little—we can pay;
Ride a little, dig a little an' rich we'll grow.
Oh, we're that bunch from th' 0-Bar-O!
Oh, there was a little tenderfoot an' he had a little gun,
An' th' gun an' him went a-trailin' up some fun.
They ambles up to Santa Fé to find a quiet game,
An' now they're planted with some more of th' same !
As Hopalong, followed by the others,
pushed open the door and entered he took up
the chorus with all the power of Texan lungs
and even Billy joined in. The sight that met
their eyes was typical of the men and the
mood and the place. Leaning along the walls,
lounging on the table and straddling chairs
with their forearms crossed on the backs were
nine cowboys, ranging from old twenty to
young fifty in years, and all were shouting
the song and keeping time with their hands
and feet. In the center of the room was a
large man dancing a fair buck-and-wing to
the time so uproariously set by his compan-
ions. Hatless, neck-kerchief loose, holsters
flapping, chaps rippling out and close, spurg
clinking and perspiration streaming from his
158


PEACE HATH ITS VICTORIES
tanned face, danced Bigfoot Baker as though
his life depended on speed and noise. Bottles
shook and the air was fogged with smoke and
dust. Suddenly, his belt slipping and letting
his chaps fall around his ankles, he tripped
and sat down heavily. Gasping for breath,
he held out his hand and received a huge plug
of tobacco, for Bigfoot had won a contest.
Shouts of greeting were hurled at the new-
comers and many questions were fired at them
regarding “th' latest from th' Hills.” Waf-
files made a rush for Hopalong, but fell over
Bigfoot's feet and all three were piled up in a
heap. All were beaming with good nature,
for they were as so many schoolboys playing
truant. Prosaic cow-punching was relegated
to the rear and they looked eagerly forward
to their several missions. Frenchy told of
the barb-wire fence war and of the new regu-
lations of “Smith of Topeka
Smith of Topeka " regarding
cow-punchers' guns, and from the caustic re-
marks explosively given it was plain to be
seen what a wire fence could expect, should
one be met with, and there were many imag-
inary Smiths put hors de combat.
159


BAR 20
Kid Morris, after vainly trying to slip a
blue-bottle fly inside of Hopalong's shirt, gave
it up and slammed his hand on Hopalong's
back instead, crying: “Well, I'll be dog-
v goned if here ain't Hopalong! How's th'
missus an' th' deacon an' all th' folks to hum?
I hears yu an' Frenchy's reg'lar poker fiends !"
“Oh, we plays onct in a while, but we don't
want none of yore dust. Yu'll shore need it
all afore th' Hills get through with yu,”
laughingly replied Hopalong.
“Oh, yore shore kind! But I was a sort of
reckonin' that we needs some more. Perfes.
ser P. D. Q. Waffles is our poker man an' he
shore can clean out anything I ever saw.
Mebby yu fellers feel reckless-like an’ would
like to make a pool,” he cried, addressing the
outfit of the Bar-20, “an' back yore boss of
th' full house agin ourn?"
Red turned slowly around and took a full
minute in which to size the Kid up. Then he
snorted and turned his back again.
The Kid stared at him in outraged dignity.
Well, what t'ell!” he softly murmured.
Then he leaped forward and walloped Red
160


PEACE HATH ITS VICTORIES
on the back. "Hey, yore royal highness!”
he shouted. “Yu-yu-yu-oh, hang it-yu!
Yu slab-sided, ring-boned, saddle-galled shade
of a coyote, do yu think I'm only meanderin'
in th' misty vales of-of-"
Suggestions intruded from various sources.
"Hades?" offered Hopalong. “ Chey-
enne?” murmured Johnny. “Misty misti-
ness of misty ? ” tentatively supplied Waffles.
Red turned around again. “Better come
up an' have somethin',” he sympathetically
invited, wiping away an imaginary tear.
'An' he's so young!” sobbed Frenchy.
“ An' so fair!" wailed Tex.
An' so ornery!” howled Lefty, throwing
his arms around the discomfited youngster.
Other arms went around him, and out of the
sobbing mob could be heard earnest and heart-
felt cussing, interspersed with imperative
commands, which were gradually obeyed.
The Kid straightened up his wearing ap-
parel. “Come on, yu locoed-
Angels ? " queried Charley Lane, inter-
rupting him.
“Sweet things?” breathed
Hopalong in hopeful expectancy.
161


BAR -20
“Oh, dan it!" yelled the Kid as he ran
out into the street to escape the persecution.
“Good Kid, all right,” remarked Waffles.
“He'll go around an' lick some Greaser an'
come back sweet as honey."
'Did somebody say, poker ? ” asked Big-
foot, digressing from the Kid.
“Oh, yu fellows don't want no poker. Of
course yu don't. Poker's mighty uncertain,"
replied Red.
“Yah!” exclaimed Tex Le Blanc, pushing
forward. I'll just bet yu to a standstill that
Waffles an' Salvation 'll round up all th' fes-
tive simoleons yu can get together! An' i'll
throw in Frenchy's hat as an inducement."
Well, if yore shore set on it make her a
pool," replied Red, “an' th' winners divide
with their outfit. Here's a starter," he added,
tossing a buckskin bag on the table.
on, pile 'em up.'
The crowd divided as the players seated
themselves at the table, the O-Bar-O crowd
grouping themselves behind their representa-
tives; the Bar-20 behind theirs. A deck of
cards was brought and the game was on.
" Come
162


PEACE HATH ITS VICTORIES
Red, true to his nature, leaned back in a
corner, where, hands on hips, he awaited any
hostile demonstration on the part of the
O-Bar-O; then, suddenly remembering, he
looked half ashamed of his warlike position
and became a peaceful citizen again. Buck
leaned with his broad back against the bar,
talking over his shoulder to the bartender,
but watching Tenspot Davis, who was assid-
uously engaged in juggling a handful of Mex-
ican dollars. Up by the door Bigfoot Baker,
elated at winning the buck-and-wing contest,
was endeavoring to learn a new step, while his
late rival was drowning his defeat at Buck's
elbow. Lefty Allen was softly singing a
Mexican love song, humming when the words
would not come. At the table could be heard
low-spoken card terms and good-natured ban-
ter, interspersed with the clink of gold and
silver and the soft pat-pat of the onlookers'
feet unconsciously keeping time to Lefty's
song. Notwithstanding the grim assertive-
ness of belts full of .45's and the peeping
handles of long-barreled Colts, set off with
picturesque chaps, sombreros and tinkling
163


BAR 20
spurs, the scene was one of peaceful content
and good-fellowship.
'Ugh!" grunted Johnny, walking over to
Red and informing that person that he, Red,
was a worm-eaten prune and that for half a
wink he, Johnny, would prove it. Red
grabbed him by the seat of his corduroys and
the collar of his shirt and helped him outside,
where they strolled about, taking pot shots
at whatever their fancy suggested.
Down the street in a cloud of dust rumbled
the Las Cruces-El Paso stage and the two
punchers went up to meet it. Raw furrows
showed in the woodwork, one mule was miss-
ing and the driver and guard wore fresh band-
ages. A tired tenderfoot leaped out with a
sigh of relief and hunted for his baggage,
which he found to be generously perforated.
Swearing at the God-forsaken land where a
man had to fight highwaymen and Indians
inside of half a day he grumblingly lugged his
valise toward a forbidding-looking shack
which was called a hotel.
The driver released his teams and then
turned to Red. Hullo, old hoss, how's th'
164


PEACE HATH ITS VICTORIES
gang?” he asked genially. “We've had a
h-1 of a time this yere trip,” he went on
without waiting for Red to reply. “Five
miles out of Las Crues we stood off a son-of-
a-gun that wanted th' dude's wealth. Then
just this side of the San Andre foothills we
runs into a bunch of young bucks who turned
us off this yere way an' gave us a runnin' fight
purty near all th' way. I'm a whole lot far-
ther from Paso now than I was when I
started, an' seein' as I lost a jack I'll be some
time gittin' there. Yu don't happen to sabe
a jack I can borrow, do yu?”
“I don't know about no jack, but I'll rope
yu a bronch," offered Red, winking at Johnny.
“I'll pull her myself before I'll put dyna-
mite in th' traces," replied the driver. “Yu
fellers might amble back a ways with me
them buddin' warriors 'll be layin' for me."
“We shore will," responded Johnny
eagerly. “There's nine of us now an' there'll
be nine more an' a cook to-morrow, mebby.”
“Gosh, yu grows some,” replied the guard.
Eighteen'll be a plenty for them glory
hunters."
165


BAR - 20
We won't be able to," contradicted Red,
“ for things are peculiar."
At this moment the conversation was inter-
✓rupted by the tenderfoot, who sported a new
and cheap sombrero and also a belt and holster
complete.
“Will you gentlemen join me?" he asked,
turning to Red and nodding at the saloon.
“ I am very dry and much averse to drinking
alone."
Why, shore,” responded Red heartily,
wishing to put the stranger at ease.
The game was running about even as they
entered and Lefty Allen was singing “ The
Insult," the rich tenor softening the harshness
of the surroundings.
THE INSULT
I've swum th' Colorado where she runs down clost to hell,
I've braced th' faro layouts in Cheyenne;
I've fought for muddy water with a howlin' bunch of Sioux,
An' swallowed hot tamales, an' cayenne.
I've rid a pitchin' broncho 'till th’ sky was underneath,
I've tackled every desert in th' land;
I've sampled XXXX whiskey 'till I couldn't hardly see,
An' dallied with th' quicksands of the Grande.
166


PEACE HATH ITS VICTORIES
I've argued with th' marshals of a half-a-dozen burgs,
I've been dragged free an' fancy by a cow';
I've had three years' campaignin' with th' fightin', bitin'
Ninth
An' never lost my temper 'till right now.
I've had the yaller fever an' I've been shot full of holes,
I've grabbed an army mule plumb by its tail;
I've never been so snortin', really highfalutin' mad
As when y'u up an' hands me ginger ale!
Hopalong laughed joyously at a remark
made by Waffles and the stranger glanced
quickly at him. His merry, boyish face, un-
derlined by a jaw showing great firmness and
set off with an expression of aggressive self-
reliance, impressed the stranger and he re-
marked to Red, who lounged lazily near him,
that he was surprised to see such a face on
so young a man and he asked who the player
was.
“Oh, his name's Hopalong Cassidy,” an-
swered Red: “He's th' cuss that raised that
ruction down in Mexico last spring. Rode
his cayuse in a saloon and played with the
loungers and had to shoot one before he got
out. When he did get out he had to fight a
whole bunch of Greasers an' even potted their
167


BAR -20
marshal, who had th' drop on him. Then he
returned and visited the marshal about a
month later, took his gun away from him an'
then cut th' cards to see if he was a prisoner or
not. He's a shore funny cuss.
The tenderfoot gasped his amazement.
“Are you not fooling with me?” he asked.
“Tell him yu came after that five hundred
dollars reward and see," answered Red good-
naturedly.
“Holy smoke!” shouted Waffles as Hop-
along won his sixth consecutive pot. “Did
yu ever see such luck?" Frenchy grinned
and some time later raked in his third. Salva-
tion then staked his last cent against Hopa-
long's flush and dropped out.
Tenspot Aipped to Waffles the money he
had been juggling and Lefty searched his
clothes for wealth. Buck, still leaning against
the bar, grinned and winked at Johnny, who
was pouring hair-raising tales into the recep-
tive ears of the stranger. Thereupon Johnny
confided to his newly found acquaintance the
facts about the game, nearly causing that per-
son to explode with delight.
168


PEACE HATH ITS VICTORIES
Waffles pushed back his chair, stood up and
stretched. At the finish of a yawn he grinned
at his late adversary. “I'm all in, yu old
son-of-a-gun. Yu shore can play draw. I'm
goin' to try yu again some time. I was beat
fair an' square an' I ain't got no kick comin',
none whatever," he remarked, as he shook
hands with Hopalong.
"Oh, we're that gang from th' O-Bar-
0,'” hummed the Kid as he sauntered in.
One cheek was slightly swollen and his clothes
shed dust at every step.
"Who wins ?” he
inquired, not having heard Waffles.
"They did, -n it!" exploded Bigfoot.
One of the Kid's peculiarities was revealed
in the unreasoning and hasty conclusions he
arrived at. From no desire to imply unfair-
ness, but rather because of his bitterness
against failure of any kind and his loyalty to
Waffles, came his next words: “Mebby they
skinned yu."
Like a flash Waffles sprang before him, his
hand held up, palm out.
“He don't mean
nothin'-he's only a d-n-fool kidl" he
cried.
169


BAR -20
66
Buck smiled and wrested the Colt from
Johnny's ever-ready hand.
" Here's an-
other," he said. Red laughed softly and
rolled Johnny on the floor. Yu jackass,"
he whispered, “ don't yu know better'n to
make a gun-play when we needs them all?"
“What are we goin' to do?” asked Tex,
glancing at the bulging pockets of Hopalong's
chaps.
“We're goin' to punch cows again, that's
what we're goin' to do," answered Bigfoot
dismally.
“ An' whose are we goin' to punch? We
can't
go
back to the old man," grumbled Tex.
Salvation looked askance at Buck and then
at the others. “Mebby," he began," mebby
we kin git a job on th' Bar-20.” Then turning
to Buck again he bluntly asked, “Are yu
short of punchers ? "
Well, I might use some," answered the
foreman, hesitating. * But I ain't got only
one cook, an''
“We'll git yu th' cook all 0. K.," inter-
rupted Charley Lane vehemently. “Hi, yu
170


PEACE HATH ITS VICTORIES
cook!” he shouted, “amble in here an' git a
rustle on!”
There was no reply, and after waiting for
a minute he and Waffles went into the rear
room, from which there immediately issued
great chunks of profanity and noise. They
returned looking pugnacious and disgusted,
with a wildly fighting man who was more full
of liquor than was the bottle which he bellig-
erently waved.
“ This here animated distillery what yu sees
is our cook," said Waffles. "We eats his
grub, nobody else. If he gits drunk that's our
funeral; but he won't get drunk! If yu wants
us to punch for yu say so an' we does; if yu
don't, we don't."
"Well,” replied Buck thoughtfully, “meb-
by I can use yu." Then with a burst of reck-
lessness he added, “Yes, if I lose my job!
But yu might sober that Greaser
up
if
yu
let
him fall in th' horse trough.
As the procession wended its way on its
mission of wet charity, carrying the cook in
any manner at all, Frenchy waved his long-
171


BAR 20
lost sombrero at Buck, who stood in the door,
and shouted, “ Yu old son-of-a-gun, I'm proud
to know yu!”
Buck smiled and snapped his watch shut.
“ Time to amble,” he said.
172


BAR 20
and groups of madly riding cowboys, and two
cook wagons were stalled a short distance
from the corral. The round-up of the Bar-20
was taking place, and each of the two outfits
tried to outdo the other and each individual
strove for a prize. The man who cut out
and dragged to the fire the most calves in
three days could leave for the Black Hills
at the expiration of that time, the rest to fol-
low as soon as they could.
In this contest Hopalong Cassidy led his
nearest rival, Red Connors, both of whom
were Bar-20 men, by twenty cut-outs, and
there remained but half an hour more in which
to compete. As Red disappeared into the sea
of tossing horns Hopalong dashed out with
a whoop, dragging a calf at the end of his
rope.
“ Hi, yu trellis-built rack of bones, come
along there! Whoop!" he yelled, turning
the prisoner over to the squad by the fire.
“Chalk up this here insignificant wart of
cross-eyed perversity: an' how many?” he
called as he galloped back to the corral.
“One ninety-eight," announced Buck,
174


HOLDING THE CLAIM
“Yu looks so nice and cool, an' clean, I
didn't know," responded Hopalong, eyeing
a streak of sweat and dust which ran from
Red's eyes to his chin and then on down his
neck.
• What yu been doin'? Plowin' with yore
nose ? " returned Red, smiling blandly at his
friend's appearance.
“Yah!” snorted Hopalong, wheeling to-
ward the corral. “Come on, yu pie-eatin'
doodle-bug; I'll beat yu to th' gate!'
The two ponies sent showers of sand all
over Billy, who eyed them in pugnacious dis-
gust. “Of all th' locoed imps that ever
made life miserable fer a man, them's th'
worst! Is there any piece of fool nonsense
they hain't harnessed me with ?” he beseeched
of Buck. “Is there anything they hain't
done to me? They hides my liquor; they
stuffs th’ sweat band of my hat with rope;
they ties up my pants; they puts water in my
boots an' toads in my bunk-ain't they never
goin' to get sane?!
Oh, they're only kids—they can't help
177


BAR 20
it," offered Buck. ' Didn't they hobble my
cayuse when I was on him an' near bust my
neck?"
Hopalong interrupted the conversation by
bringing up another calf, and Buck, glancing
at his watch, declared the contest at an end.
"Yu wins," he remarked to the newcomer.
“ An' now yu get scarce or Billy will shore
straddle yore nerves.
He said as how he
was goin' to get square on yu to-night.”
I didn't, neither, Hoppy!" earnestly con-
tradicted Billy, who had visions of a night
spent in torment as a reprisal for such a
threat. "Honest I didn't, did I, Johnny ?”
he asked appealingly.
“Yu shore did,” lied Johnny, winking at
Red, who had just ridden up.
“I don't know what yore talkin' about, but
yu shore did,” replied Red.
“ If yu did," grinneu Hopalong, “I'll
shore make yu hard to find. Come on, fel-
lows,” he said; "grub's ready. Where's
Frenchy?"
Over chewin' th' rag with Waffles about
his hat-he's lost it again," answered Red.
178


HOLDING THE CLAIM
“He needs a guardian fer that bonnet. Thi
Kid an' Salvation has jammed it in th' corral
fence an' Waffles has to stand fer it."
“Let's put it in th' grub wagon an' see
him cuss cookie," suggested Hopalong.
“Shore,” indorsed Johnny; “Cookie'll
feed him bum grub for a week to get square.'
Hopalong and Johnny ambled over to the
corral and after some trouble located the
missing sombrero, which they carried to the
grub wagon and hid in the flour barrel. Then
they went over by the excited owner and
dropped a few remarks about how strange
the cook was acting and how he was watch-
ing Frenchy.
Frenchy jumped at the bait and tore over
to the wagon, where he and the cook spent
some time in mutual recrimination. Hop-
along nosed around and finally dug up the
hat, white as new-fallen snow.
“ Here's a hat-found it in th' dough
barrel,” he announced, handing it over to
Frenchy, who received it in open-mouthed
stupefaction.
“Yu pie-makin' pirate! Yu didn't know
179


BAR -20
where my lid was, did yu! Yu cross-eyed
lump of hypocrisy ! ” yelled Frenchy, dusting
off the flour with one full-armed swing on the
cook's face, driving it into that unfortunate's
nose and eyes and mouth. “Yu white-washed
✓ Chink, yu-rub yore face with water an' yu've
got pancakes."
Hey! What you doin'!” yelled the
cook, kicking the spot where he had last seen
Frenchy. “Don't yu know better'n that!”
“Yu live close to yoreself or I'll throw yu
so high th' sun'll duck," replied Frenchy, a
smile illuminating his face.
“Hey, cookie," remarked Hopalong con-
fidentially, “I know who put up this joke on
yu. Yu ask Billy who hid th' hat,” suggested
the tease.
Here he comes now-see how
queer he looks."
“Th’mournful Piute," ejaculated the cook.
“I'll shore make him wish he'd kept on his
own trail.
I'll flavor his slush (coffee) with
year-old dish-rags!”
At this juncture Billy ambled up, keeping
his weather eye peeled for trouble.
“ Who's
a dish-rag?” he queried. The cook mumbled
180


HOLDING THE CLAIM
something about crazy hens not knowing when
to quit cackling and climbed up in his wagon.
And that night Billy swore off drinking coffee.
When the dawn of the next day broke,
Hopalong was riding toward the Black Hills,
leaving Billy to untie himself as best he might.
The trip was uneventful and several days
later he entered Red Dog, a rambling shanty
town, one of those western mushrooms that
sprang up in a night. He took up his stand
at the Miner's Rest, and finally secured six
claims at the cost of nine hundred hard-earned
dollars, a fund subscribed by the outfits, as it
was to be a partnership affair.
He rode out to a staked-off piece of hill-
side and surveyed his purchase, which con-
sisted of a patch of ground, six holes, six
piles of dirt and a log hut. The holes showed
that the claims had been tried and found want.
ing.
He dumped his pack of tools and provis-
ions, which he had bought on the way up, and
lugged them into the cabin. After satisfying
his curiosity he went outside and sat down for
a smoke, figuring up in his mind how much
181


BAR - 20
gold he could carry on a horse. Then, as he
realized that he could get a pack mule to
carry the surplus, he became aware of a
strange presence near at hand and looked up
into the muzzle of a Sharp's rifle. He
grasped the situation in a flash and calmly
blew several heavy smoke rings around the
frowning barrel.
“Well?” he asked slowly.
“Nice day, stranger,” replied the man
with the rifle, “but don't yu reckon yu've
made a mistake?”
Hopalong glanced at the number burned
on a near-by stake and carelessly blew another
smoke ring. He was waiting for the gun to
waver.
“ No, I reckons not,” he answered.
“Why?"
“Well, I'll jest tell
yu
asks. This
yere claim's mine an' I'm a reg'lar terror,
That's why; an' seein' as it is, yu better
amble some.”
Hopalong glanced down the street and
saw an interested group watching him, which
only added to his rage for being in such a
since yu
am.
182


HOLDING THE CLAIM
position. Then he started to say something,
faltered and stared with horror at a point
several feet behind his opponent. The “ter-
ror sprang to one side in response to Hop-
along's expression, as if fearing that a snake
or some such danger threatened him. As he
alighted in his new position he fell forward
and Hopalong slid a smoking Colt in its
holster.
Several men left the distant group and ran
toward the claim. Hopalong reached his
arm inside the door and brought forth his
Sharp's rifle, with which he covered their
advance.
"Anything yu want?” he shouted sav-
agely.
The men stopped and two of them started
to sidle in front of two others, but Hopalong
was not there for the purpose of permitting
a move that would screen any gun play and
he stopped the game with a warning shout.
Then the two held up their hands and ad-
vanced.
We wants to git Dan," called out one of
them, nodding at the prostrate figure.
183


BAR 20
come.
“Come ahead," replied Hopalong, sub-
stituting a Colt for the rifle.
They carried their badly wounded and in-
sensible burden back to those whom they had
left, and several curses were hurled at the
cowboy, who only smiled grimly and entered
the hut to place things ready for a siege,
should one
He had one hundred
rounds of ammunition and provisions enough
for two weeks, with the assurance of rein-
forcements long before that time would ex-
pire. He cut several rough loopholes and
laid out his weapons for quick handling. He
knew that he could stop any advance during
the day and planned only for night attacks.
How long he could go without sleep did not
bother him, because he gave it no thought, as
he was accustomed to short naps and could
awaken at will or at the slightest sound.
As dusk merged into dark he crept forth
and collected several handfuls of dry twigs,
which he scattered around the hut, as the
cracking of these would warn him of an ap-
proach. Then he went in and went to sleep.
184


HOLDING THE CLAIM
He awoke at daylight after a good night's
rest, and feasted on canned beans and peaches.
Then he tossed the cans out of the door and
shoved his hat out. Receiving no response
he walked out and surveyed the town at his
feet. A sheepish grin spread over his face
as he realized that there was no danger. Sev-
eral red-shirted men passed by him on their
way to town, and one, a grizzled veteran of
many gold camps, stopped and sauntered up
to him.
“Mornin'," said Hopalong.
Mornin'," replied the stranger. “I
thought I'd drop in an' say that I saw that
gun-play of yourn yesterday. Yu ain't got
no reason to look fer a rush. This camp is
half white men an' half bullies, and th' white v
men won't stand fer no play like that. Them
fellers that jest passed are neighbors of yourn,
an' they won't lay abed if yu needs them. But
yu wants to look out fer th' joints in th'
town. Guess this business is out of yore
line," he finished as he sized Hopalong up.
“She shore is, but I'm here to stay. Got
185


BAR_20
tired of punchin' an' reckoned I'd git rich.”
Here he smiled and glanced at the hole.
How're
yu
makin' out?” he asked.
“ 'Bout five dollars a day apiece, but that
ain't nothin' when grub's so high. Got reck-
less th' other day an' had a egg at fifty cents.
Hopalong whistled and glanced at the
empty cans at his feet. “Any marshal in
this burg?"
Yep. But he's one of th' gang. No
good, an' drunk half th' time an' half drunk
th' rest.
Better come down an' have some-
thing," invited the miner.
“I'd shore like to, but I can't let no gang
get in that door," replied the puncher.
Oh, that's all right; I'll call my pardner
down to keep house till yu gits back. He can
hold her all right. Hey, Jakel ” he called
to a man who was some hundred paces dis-
tant; come down here an' keep house till
we gits back, will yu?'
The man lumbered down to them and took
possession as Hopalong and his newly found
friend started for the town.
They entered the “Miner's Rest ” and
186


HOLDING THE CLAIM
Hupalong fixed the room in his mind with one
swift glance. Three men—and they looked
like the crowd he had stopped before—were
playing poker at a table near the window.
Hopalong leaned with his back to the bar
and talked, with the players always in sight.
Soon the door opened and a bewhiskered,
heavy-set man tramped in, and walking up to
Hopalong, looked him over.
“Huh," he sneered, “yu are th' gent with
th' festive guns that plugged Dan, ain't yu?
Hopalong looked at him in the eyes and
quietly replied: “An' who th' h–1 are yu ?"
The stranger's eyes blazed and his face
wrinkled with rage as he aggressively shoved
his jaw close to Hopalong's face.
“Yu runt, I'm a better man than yu even if
yu do wear hair pants," referring to Hopa-
long's chaps. “Yu cow-wrastlers make me
tired, an' I'm goin' to show yu that this town
is too good for you. Yu can say it right now
that yu are a ornery, game-leg-
Hopalong, blind with rage, smashed his
insulter squarely between the eyes with all the
power of his sinewy body behind the blow,
187


BAR -20
knocking him in a heap under the table.
Then he quickly glanced at the card players
and saw a hostile movement. His gun was
out in a flash and he covered the trio as he
walked up to them. Never in all his life had
he felt such a desire to kill. His eyes were
diamond points of accumulated fury, and
those whom he faced quailed before him.
“Yu scum of th' earth! Draw, please
draw! Pull yore guns an’ gimme my chance!
Three to one, an' I'll lay my guns here," he
said, placing them on the bar and removing
his hands. Nearer My God to Thee' is
purty appropriate fer yu just now! Yu seem
to be a-scared of yore own guns.
Git down
on yore dirty knees an' say good an' loud that
yu eats dirt! Shout out that yu are too
currish to live with decent men,” he said,
even-toned and distinct, his voice vibrant with
passion as he took up his Colts.
down!” he repeated, shoving the weapons
forward and pulling back the hammers.
The trio glanced at each other, and all
three dropped to their knees and repeated in
"Get
188


HOLDING THE CLAIM
venomous hatred the words Hopalong said
for them.
“Now git! An' if I sees yu when I leaves
I'll send yu after yore friend. I'll shoot on
sight now. Git!” He escorted them to the
door and kicked the last one out.
His miner friend still leaned against the
bar and looked his approval.
“Well done, youngster! But yu wants to
look out—that man," pointing to the now
groping victim of Hopalong's blow, "is th'
marshal of this town. He or his pals will
get yu if yu don't watch th' corners."
Hopalong walked over to the marshal,
jerked him to his feet and slammed him
against the bar.
Then he tore the cheap
badge from its place and threw it on the
floor. Reaching down, he drew the mar-
shal's revolver from its holster and shoved it
in its owner's hand.
“ Yore th' marshal of this place an' it's too
good for me, but yore goin' to pick up that
tin lie," pointing at the badge, “an' yore
goin' to do it right now.
Then yore
189


BAR 20
goin' to get kicked out of that door, an' if
yu stops runnin' while I can see yu I'll fill
yu so full of holes yu'll catch cold. Yore a
sumptious marshal, yu are! Yore th' snort-
ingest ki-yi that ever stuck its tail atween its
laigs, yu are. Yu pop-eyed wall flower, yu
wants to peep to yoreself or some papoose 'll
slide yu over th' Divide so fast yu won't
have time to grease yore pants. Pick up that
license-tag an' let me see you perculate so
lively that yore back 'll look like a ten-cent
piece in five seconds. Flit!”
The marshal, dazed and bewildered,
stooped and fumbled for the badge. Then
he stood up and glanced at the gun in his
hand and at the eager man before him. He
slid the weapon in his belt and drew his hand
across his fast-closing eyes. Cursing streaks
of profanity, he staggered to the door and
landed in a heap in the street from the force
of Hopalong's kick. Struggling to his feet,
he ran unsteadily down the block and disap-
peared around a corner.
The bartender, cool and unperturbed,
pushed out three glasses on his treat: “ I've
190


HOLDING THE CLAIM
seen yu afore, up in Cheyenne-'member?
How's yore friend Red?” he asked as he
filled the glasses with the best the house
afforded.
“Well, shore 'nuff! Glad
Glad to see yu,
Jimmy! What yu doin' away off here?
asked Hopalong, beginning to feel at home.
“Oh, jest filterin' round like. I'm awful
glad to see yu—this yere wart of a town
needs siftin' out. It was only last week I was
wishin' one of yore bunch 'ud show up-that
ornament yu jest buffaloed shore raised th'
devil in here, an' I wished I had somebody to
prospect his anatomy for a lead mine. But
he's goi a tough gang circulating with him.
Ever hear of Dutch Shannon or Blinky
Neary? They's with him."
“Dutch Shannon ? Nope," he replied.
“Bad eggs, an' not a-carin' how they gits
square. Th' feller yu' salted yesterday was v
a bosom friend of th' marshal's, an' he passed
in his chips last night.”
"So?"
“ Yep. Bought a bottle of ready-made
nerve an' went to his own funeral. Aristotle
191


BAR – 20
Smith was lookin' fer him up in Cheyenne last
year.
Aristotle said he'd give a century fer
five minutes' palaver with him, but he shied
th' town an' didn't come back. Yu know
Aristotle, don't yu? He's th' geezer that
made fame up to Poison Knob three years
ago. He used to go to town ridin' astride a
log on th' lumber flume. Made four miles in
six minutes with th' promise of a ruction when
he stopped. Once when he was loaded he
tried to ride back th' same way he came, an' '
th' first thing he knowed he was three miles
farther from his supper an' a-slippin' dowrı
that valley like he wanted to go somewhere.
He swum out at Potter's Dam an' it took him
a day to walk back. But he didn't make that
play again, because he was frequently sober,
an' when he wasn't he'd only stand off an'
swear at th' slide."
That's Aristotle, all hunk. He's th' chap
that used to play checkers with Deacon Raw-
lins. They used empty an' loaded shells for
men, an' when they got a king they'd lay one
on its side. Sometimes they'd jar th' board
192


HOLDING THE CLAIM
an' they'd all be kings an' then they'd have a
cussin' match," replied Hopalong, once more
restored to good humor.
“Why,” responded Jimmy, "he counted
his wealth over twice by mistake an' shore
raised a howl when he went to blow it-
thought he'd been robbed, an' laid behind th'
houses fer a week lookin' fer th' feller that
done it."
“I've heard of that cuss—he shore was th'
limit. What become of him?” asked the
miner.
“He ambled up to Laramie an' stuck his
head in th' window of that joint by th' plaza
an' hollered 'Fire,' an' they did. He was
shore a good feller, all th' same," answered
the bartender.
Hopalong laughed and started for the
door. Turning around he looked at his
miner friend and asked: “Comin' along?
I'm goin' back now."
Nope. Reckon I'll hit th’ tiger a whirl.
I'll stop in when I passes.
“ All right. So long," replied Hopalong,
193


BAR -20
slipping out of the door and watching for
trouble. There was no opposition shown
him, and he arrived at his claim to find Jake
in a heated argument with another of the
gang.
'Here he comes now," he said as Hopa-
long walked up. “Tell him what yu said
to me."
" I said yu made a mistake," said the other,
turning to the cowboy in a half apologetic
manner.
“ An' what else?” insisted Jake.
Why, ain't that all? ” asked the claim-
jumper's friend in feigned surprise, wishing
that he had kept quiet.
“Well I reckons it is if yu can't back up
yore words,” responded Jake in open con-
tempt.
Hopalong grabbed the intruder by the
collar of his shirt and hauled him off the
claim. “ Yu keep off this, understand ? I
just kicked yore marshal out in th' street, an'
I'll pay yu th' next call. If yu rambles in
range
of my guns yu'll shore get in th’ way of
194


HOLDING THE CLAIM
a slug Yu an' yore gang wants to browse
on th' far side of th' range or yu'll miss a sun-
rise some mornin'. Scoot!"
Hopalong turned to his companion and
smiled. “What 'd he say?" he asked
genially.
Oh, he jest shot off his mouth a little.
They's all no good. I've collided with
lots of them all over this country. They
can't face a good man an' keep their nerve.
What'd yu say to th' marshal?":
“I told him what he was an' threw him
outen th' street,” replied Hopalong. “In
about two weeks we'll have a new marshal
an' he'll shore be a dandy.”
“Yes? Why don't yu take th' job yore-
self? We're with yu."
“ Better man comin'. Ever hear of Buck
Peters or Red Connors of th' Bar-20,
Texas?"
“Buck Peters? Seems to me I have. Did
he punch fer th' Tin-Cup up in Montana,
'bout twenty years back?"
“Shorel Him and Frenchy McAllister
195


BAR 20
punched all over that country an' they used
to paint Cheyenne, too,” replied Hopalong,
eagerly.
“I knows him, then. I used to know
Frenchy, too. Are they comin' up here?"
“Yes,” responded Hopalong, struggling
with another can while waiting for the fire
to catch up.
“Better have some grub with
me-don't like to eat alone,” invited the cow-
boy, the reaction of his late rage swinging him
to the other extreme.
When their tobacco had got well started
at the close of the meal and content had taken
possession of them Hopalong laughed quietly
and finally spoke:
Did yu ever know Aristotle Smith when
yu was up in Montana?"
“ Did I! Well, me an' Aristotie pros-
pected all through that country till he got
so locoed I had to watch him fer fear he'd
blow us both up. He greased th' fryin' pan
with dynamite one night, an' we shore had to
eat jerked meat an' canned stuff all th' rest of
that trip. What made yu ask? Is he comin'
up too?"
196


HOLDING THE CLAIM
“No, I reckons not. Jimmy, th' bar-
tender, said that he cashed in up at Laramie.
Wasn't he th' cuss that built that boat out
there on th' Arizona desert because he was
scared that a flood might come? Th' sun
shore warped that punt till it wasn't even good
for a hencoop."
“Nope. That was Sister-Annie Tomp-
kins. He was purty near as bad as Aristotle,
though. He roped a puma up on th' Sacra-
mentos, an' didn't punch no more fer three
weeks. Well, here comes my pardner an' I
reckons I'll amble right along. If yu
needs
any referee or a side pardner in any ruction
yu has only got to warble up my way. So
long."
The next ten days passed quietly and on the
afternoon of the eleventh Hopalong's miner
friend paid him a visit.
" Jake recommends yore peaches," he
laughed as he shook Hopalong's hand. “He
says yu boosted another of that crowd. That
bein' so I thought I would drop in an' say
that they're comin' after yu to-night, shore.
Just heard of it from yore friend Jimmy. Yu
197


BAR – 20
✓
can count on us when th' rush comes. But
why didn't yu say yu was a pard of Buck
Peters'? Me an' him used to shoot up
Laramie together. From what yore friend
James says, yu can handle this gang by yore
lonesome, but if yu needs any encouragement
yu make some sign an' we'll help th' event
along some. They's eight of us that'll be
waitin' up to get th' returns an' we're shore
goin' to be in range.
“Gee, it's nice to run across a friend of
Buck's! Ain't he a son-of-a-gun?” asked
Hopalong, delighted at the news. Then,
without waiting for a reply, he went on:
“ Yore shore square, all right, an' I hates to
refuse
yore offer, but I got eighteen friends
comin' up an' they ought to get here by to-
Yu tell Jimmy to head them this
way when they shows up an' I'll have th'
claim for them. There ain't no use of yu
fellers gettin' mixed up in this. Th' bunch,
that's comin' can clean out any gang this side
of sunup, an' I expects they'll shore be anxious
to begin when they finds me eatin' peaches an'
wastin' my time shootin' bums. Yu
Yu pass th'
morrow.
198


HOLDING THE CLAIM
word along to yore friends, an' tell them to
lay low an' see th' Arory Boerallis hit this
town with its tail up. Tell Jimmy to do it up
good when he speaks about me holdin' th'
claim-I likes to see Buck an' Red fight when
they're good an' mad.”
The miner laughed and slapped Hopalong
on the shoulder. “Yore all right, youngster!
Yore just like Buck was at yore age. Say
now, I reckons he wasn't a reg'lar terror on
wheels! Why, I've seen him do more foolish
things than any man I knows of, an' I calcu.
late that if Buck pals with yu there ain't no
water in yore sand. My name's Tom Hallo- -
way," he suggested.
.
'An' mine's Hopalong Cassidy," was the
reply. “ I've heard Buck speak of yu.”
“ Has yu? Well, don't it beat all how lit-
tle this world is? Somebody allus turnin' up
that knows somebody yu knows. I'll just
amble along, Mr. Cassidy, an' don't yu be
none bashful about callin' if yu needs me.
Any pal of Buck's is my friend. Well, so
long," said the visitor as he strode off. Then
he stopped and turned around. Hey, mis-
199


BAR-20
ter!” he called. “They are goin' to roll a
fire barrel down agin yu from behind,” indi.
cating by an outstretched arm the point from
where it would start. “ If it burns yu out
I'm goin' to take a hand from up there,”
pointing to a cluster of rocks well to the rear
of where the crowd would work from, “an'
I don't care whether yu likes it or not,” he
added to himself.
Hopalong scratched his head and then
laughed. Taking up a pick and shovel, he
went out behind the cabin and dug a trench
parallel with and about twenty paces away
from the rear wall. Heaping the excavated
dirt up on the near side of the cut, he stepped
back and surveyed his labor with open satis-
faction. "Roll yore fire barrel an' be
he muttered. Mebby she won't make a
bully light for pot shots, though,” he added,
grinning at the execution he would do.
Taking up his tools, he went up to the place
from where the gang would roll the barrel,
and made half a dozen mounds of twigs, be-
ing careful to make them very Alimsy. Then
he covered them with earth and packed them
200


HOLDING THE CLAIM
gently. The mounds looked very tempting
from the view-point of a marksman in search
of earthworks, and appeared capable of stop-
ping any rifle ball that could be fired against
them. Hopalong looked them over critically
and stepped back.
“I'd like to see th' look on th' face of th'
son-of-a-gun that uses them for cover--won't
he be surprised?" and he grinned gleefully
as he pictured his shots boring through them.
Then he placed in the center of each a chip
or a pebble or something that he thought
would show up well in the firelight.
Returning to the cabin, he banked it up
well with dirt and gravel, and tossed a few
shovelfuls up on the roof as a safety valve to
his exuberance. When he entered the door
he had another idea, and fell to work scoop-
ing out a shallow cellar, deep enough to shel-
ter him when lying at full length. Then he
stuck his head out of the window and grinned
at the false covers with their prominent bull's-
eyes.
“When that prize-winnin' gang of ossified
idiots runs up agin' these fortifications they
201


BAR - 20
shore will be disgusted. I'll bet four dollars
an' seven cents they'll think their medicine-
man's no good. I hopes that puff-eyed mar-
shal will pick out that hump with th' chip on
it,” and he hugged himself in anticipation.
He then cut down a sapling and fastened it
to the roof and on it he tied his neckkerchief,
which fluttered valiantly and with defiance in
the light breeze. “ I shore hopes they appre-
ciates that,” he remarked whimsically, as he
went inside the hut and closed the door.
The early part of the evening passed in
peace, and Hopalong, tired of watching in
vain, wished for action. Midnight came, and
it was not until half an hour before dawn that
he was attacked. Then a noise sent him to
a loophole, where he fired two shots at skulk-
ing figures some distance off. A fusillade of
bullets replied; one of them ripped through
the door at a weak spot and drilled a hole in
a can of the everlasting peaches. Hopalong
set the can in the frying pan and then fitted
from loophole to loophole, shooting quick and
straight. Several curses told him that he had
not missed, and he scooped up a finger of
202


HOLDING THE CLAIM
peach juice. Shots thudded into the walls of
his fort in an unceasing stream, and, as it
grew lighter, several whizzed through the
loopholes. He kept close to the earth and
waited for the rush, and when it came sent
it back, minus two of its members.
As he reloaded his Colts a bullet passed
through his shirt sleeve and he promptly
nailed the marksman. He looked out of a «*
crack in the rear wall and saw the top of an
adjoining hill crowned with spectators, all of
whom were armed. Some time later he re-
pulsed another attack and heard a faint cheer
from his friends on the hill. Then he saw a
barrel, blazing from end to end, roll out from
the place he had so carefully covered with
mounds. It gathered speed and bounded
over the rough ground, flashed between two
rocks and leaped into the trench, where it
crackled and roared in vain.
“Now," said Hopalong, blazing at the
mounds as fast as he could load and fire his
Sharp's, “we'll just see what yu thinks of
yore nice little covers."
Yells of consternation and pain rang out in
203


BAR -20
a swelling chorus, and legs and arms jerked
and Hopped, one man, in his astonishment at
the shot that tore open his cheek, sitting up
in plain sight of the marksman. Roars of
rage floated up from the main body of the
besiegers, and the discomfited remnant of
barrel-rollers broke for real cover.
Then he stopped another rush from the
front, made upon the supposition that he was
thinking only of the second detachment. A
hearty cheer arose from Tom Halloway and
his friends, ensconced in their rocky position,
and it was taken up by those on the hill, who
danced and yelled their delight at the battle,
to them more humorous than otherwise.
This recognition of his prowess from men
of the caliber of his audience made him feel
good, and he grinned: “Gee, I'll bet Halloway
Van' his friends is shore itchin' to get in this,”
he murmured, firing at a head that was shown
for an instant. " Wonder what Red 'll say
when Jimmy tells him—bet he'll plow dust
like a cyclone,” and Hopalong laughed, pic-
turing to himself the satiation of Red's anger.
Old red-headed son-of-a-gun,” murmured
204


HOLDING THE CLAIM
the cowboy affectionately," he shore can
fight.”
As he squinted over the sights of his rifle
his eye caught sight of a moving body of men
as they cantered over the flats about two miles
away. In his eagerness he forgot to shoot
and carefully counted them. 'Nine," he
grumbled. “Wonder what's th' matter?"
-fearing that they were not his friends.
Then a second body numbering eight cantered
into sight and followed the first.
“Whoop! There's th' Red-head!” he
shouted, dancing in his joy. “Now," he
shouted at the peach can joyously, “yu wait
about thirty minutes an' yu'll shore reckon
Hades has busted loose!'
He grabbed up his Colts, which he kept
loaded for repelling rushes, and recklessly
emptied them into the bushes and between the
rocks and trees, searching every likely place
for a human target. Then he slipped his
rifle in a loophole and waited for good shots,
having worked off the dangerous pressure of
his exuberance.
Soon he heard a yell from the direction of
205


BAR - 20
the “Miner's Rest," and fell to jamming
cartridges into his revolvers so that he could
sally out and join in the fray by the side of
Red.
The thunder of madly pounding hoofs
rolled up the trail, and soon a horse and rider
shot around the corner and headed for the
copse. Three more raced close behind and
then a bunch of six, followed by the rest,
spread out and searched for trouble.
Red, a Colt in each hand and hatless, stood
up in his stirrups and sent shot after shot into
the fleeing mob, which he could not follow on
account of the nature of the ground. Buck
wheeled and dashed down the trail again with
Red a close second, the others packed in a
solid mass and after them. At the first level
stretch the newcomers swept down and hit
their enemies, going through them like a knife
through cheese. Hopalong danced up and
down with rage when he could not find his
horse, and had to stand and yell, a spectator.
The fight drifted in among the buildings,
where it became a series of isolated duels, and
soon Hopalong saw panic-stricken horses car-
206


HOLDING THE CLAIM
rying their riders out of the other side of the
town. Then he went gunning for the man
who had rustled his horse. He was unsuc-
cessful and returned to his peaches.
Soon the riders came up, and when they
saw Hopalong shove a peach into his powder-
grimed mouth they yelled their delight.
“Yu old maverick! Eatin' peaches like yu
was afraid we'd git some ! ” shouted Red in-
dignantly, leaping down and running up to his
pal as though to thrash him.
Hopalong grinned pleasantly and fired a
peach against Red's eye. “I was savin' that
one for yu, Reddie," he remarked, as he
avoided Buck's playful kick. “ Yu fellers git
to work an' dig up some wealth–I'm hun-
gry.” Then he turned to Buck: “ Yore th'
marshal of this town, an'any son-of-a-gun
what don't like it had better write. Oh, yes,
here comes Tom Halloway—'member him?"
Buck turned and faced the miner and his
hand went out with a jerk.
Well, I'll be locoed if I didn't punch
with yu on th' Tin-Cup!” he said.
“Yu shore did an' yu was purty devilish,
207


BAR 20
but that there Cassidy of yourn beats any-
thing I ever seen."
“He's a good kid," replied Buck, glancing
to where Red and Hopalong were quarreling
as to who had eaten the most pie in a contest
held some years before.
Johnny, nosing around, came upon the per-
forated and partially scattered piles of earth
and twigs, and vented his disgust of them by
kicking them to pieces. “Hey! Hoppy!
Oh, Hoppy!” he called, “what are these
things?"
Hopalong jammed Red's hat over that
person's eyes and replied: "Oh, them's some
loaded dice I fixed for them."
“Yu son-of-a-gun!" sputtered Red, as he
wrestled with his friend in the exuberance of
his pride.
"Yu son-of-a-gun! Yu shore
ought to be ashamed to treat 'em that way!”
Shore," replied Hopalong. “But I
ain't!"
208


CHAPTER XII
THE HOSPITALITY OF TRAVENNES
MR.
R. BUCK PETERS rode into Alkaline
one bright September morning and
sought refreshment at the Emporium. Mr.
Peters had just finished some business for his
employer and felt the satisfaction that comes
with the knowledge of work well done. He
expected to remain in Alkaline for several
days, where he was to be joined by two of his
friends and punchers, Mr. Hopalong Cas-
sidy and Mr. Red Connors, both of whom
were at Cactus Springs, seventy miles to the
Mr. Cassidy and his friend had just fin-
ished a nocturnal tour of Santa Fé and felt
somewhat peevish and dull in consequence,
not to mention the sadness occasioned by the
expenditure of the greater part of their com-
bined capital on such foolishness as faro,
roulette and wet-goods.
east.
209


BAR - 20
Mr. Peters and his friends had sought
wealth in the Black Hills, where they had
enthusiastically disfigured the earth in the
fond expectation of uncovering vast stores of
virgin gold. Their hopes were of an opti-
mistic brand and had existed until the last
canister of cornmeal four had been emptied
by Mr. Cassidy's burro, which waited not
upon its master's pleasure nor upon the ethics
of the case. When Mr. Cassidy had returned
from exercising the animal and himself over
two miles of rocky hillside in the vain en-
deavor to give it his opinion of burros and
sundry chastisements, he was requested, as
owner of the beast, to give his counsel as to
the best way of securing eighteen breakfasts.
Remembering that the animal was headed
north when he last saw it and that it was too
old to eat, anyway, he suggested a plan which
had worked successfully at other times for
other ends, namely, poker. Mr. McAllister,
an expert at the great American game, volun-
teered his service in accordance with the spirit
of the occasion and, half an hour later, he and
Mr. Cassidy drifted into Pell's poker parlors,
210


HOSPITALITY OF TRAVENNES
which were located in the rear of a Chinese
laundry, where they gathered unto themselves
the wherewithal for the required breakfasts.
An hour spent in the card rooni of the “Hur-
rah” convinced its proprietor that they had
wasted their talents for the past six weeks in
digging for gold. The proof of this per-
mitted the departure of the outfits with their
customary éclat.
At Santa Fé the various individuals had
gone their respective ways, to reassemble at
the ranch in the near future, and for several
days they had been drifting south in
groups
of
twos and threes and, like chaff upon a stream,
had eddied into Alkaline, where Mr. Peters
had found them arduously engaged in post-
poning the final journey. After he had glad-
dened their hearts and soothed their throats
by making several pithy remarks to the bar-
tender, with whom he established their credit,
he cautioned them against letting any one
harm them and, smiling at the humor of his
warning, left abruptly.
Cactus Springs was burdened with a zealous
and initiative organization known as vigi-
21I


BAR 20
lantes, whose duty it was to extend the cour-
tesies of the land to cattle thieves and the like.
This organization boasted of the name of
Travennes' Terrors and of a muster roll of
twenty. There was also a boast that no one
had ever escaped them which, if true, was in
many cases unfortunate. Mr. Slim Tra-
vennes, with whom Mr. Cassidy had partici-
pated in an extemporaneous exchange of
Colt's courtesies in Santa Fé the year before,
was the head of the organization and was also
chairman of the committee on arrivals, and
the two gentlemen of the Bar-20 had not
been in town an hour before he knew of it.
Being anxious to show the strangers every
attention and having a keen recollection of the
brand of gun-play commanded by Mr. Cas-
sidy, he planned a smoother method of pro-
cedure and one calculated to permit him to
enjoy the pleasures of a good old age. Mr.
Travennes knew that horse thieves were re-
garded as social enemies, that the necessary
proof of their guilt was the finding of stolen
animals in their possession, that death was the
penalty and that every man, whether directly
2 I 2


HOSPITALITY OF TRAVENNES
concerned or not, regarded himself as judge,
jury and executioner. He had several ac-
quaintances who were bound to him by his
knowledge of crimes they had committed and
who could not refuse his slightest wish. Even
if they had been free agents they were not
above causing the death of an innocent man.
Mr. Travennes, feeling very self-satisfied at
his cleverness, arranged to have the proof
placed where it would do the most harm and
intended to take care of the rest by himself.
Mr. Connors, feeling much refreshed and
very hungry, arose at daylight the next
morning, and dressing quickly, started off to
feed and water the horses. After having sev-
eral tilts with the landlord about the bucket
he took his departure toward the corral at the
rear. Peering through the gate, he could
hardly believe his eyes. He climbed over it
and inspected the animals at close range, and
found that those which he and his friend had
ridden for the last two months were not to
be seen, but in their places were two better
animals, which concerned him greatly. Being
fair and square himself, he could not under-
213


BAR - 20
come out
stand the change and sought enlightenment of
his more imaginative and suspicious friend.
Hey, Hopalong!” he called,
here an' see what th' devil has happened!'
Mr. Cassidy stuck his auburn head out of
the wounded shutter and complacently sur-
veyed his companion. Then he saw the horses
and looked hard.
“Quit yore foolin', yu old cuss," he re-
marked pleasantly, as he groped around be-
hind him with his feet, searching for his boots.
Anybody would think yu was a little boy
with yore fool jokes. Ain't yu ever goin' to
grow up?"
They've got our bronchs," replied Mr.
Connors in an injured tone. “Honest, I ain't
kiddin' yu," he added for the sake of peace.
“Who has ?" came from the window,
followed immediately by, “Yu've got my
boots !!
“I ain't—they're under th' bunk," contra-
dicted and explained Mr. Connors. Then,
turning to the matter in his mind he replied,
“I don't know who's got them. If I did do
yu think I'd be holdin' hands with myself?”
214


HOSPITALITY OF TRAVENNES
“Nobody'd accuse yu of anything like
that,” came from the window, accompanied
by an overdone snicker.
Mr. Connors flushed under his accumulated
tan as he remembered the varied pleasures of
Santa Fé, and he regarded the bronchos in
anything but a pleasant state of mind.
Mr. Cassidy slid through the window and
approached his friend, looking as serious as
he could.
Any tracks?” he inquired, as he glanced
quickly over the ground to see for himself.
“Not after that wind we had last night.
They might have growed there for all I can
see,” growled Mr. Connors.
“I reckon we better hold a pow-wow with
th' foreman of this shack an' find out what he
knows,” suggested Mr. Cassidy. “This looks
too good to be a swap."
Mr. Connors looked his disgust at the idea
and then a light broke in upon him. “Mebby
they was hard pushed an' wanted fresh cay-
uses,” he said. “A whole lot of people get
hard pushed in this country. Anyhow, we'll
prospect th' boss."
215


BAR - 20
They found the proprietor in his stocking
feet, getting the breakfast, and Mr. Cassidy
regarded the preparations with open ap-
proval. He counted the tin plates and found
only three, and, thinking that there would be
more plates if there were others to feed,
glanced into the landlord's room. Not find
ing signs of other guests, on whom to lay the
blame for the loss of his horse, he began to
ask questions.
“Much trade?" he inquired solicitously.
.
Yep,” replied the landlord.
Mr. Cassidy looked at the three tins and
wondered if there had ever been any more
with which to supply his trade. Been out
this morning ?” he pursued.
Nope."
"Talks purty nigh as much as Buck,"
thought Mr. Cassidy, and then said aloud,
Anybody else here?”
“Nope."
Mr. Cassidy lapsed into a painful and dis-
gusted silence and his friend tried his hand.
“Who owns a mosaic bronch, Chinee flag
216


HOSPITALITY OF TRAVENNES
on th' near side, Skillet brand ? " asked Mr.
Connors.
Quien sabe?”
Gosh, he can nearly keep still in two
lingoes," thought Mr. Cassidy.
“Who owns a bob-tailed pinto, saddle-
galled, cast in th' near eye, Star Diamond
brand, white stockin' on th' off front prop,
with a habit of scratchin' itself every other
minute?" went on Mr. Connors.
“Slim Travennes," replied the proprietor,
flopping a flapjack.
Mr. Cassidy reflectively scratched the back
of his hand and looked innocent, but his mind
was working overtime.
Who's Slim Travennes?" asked Mr.
Connors, never having heard of that person,
owing to the reticence of his friend.
“Captain of th' vigilantes.”
What does he look like on th' general
run?” blandly inquired Mr. Cassidy, wishing
to verify his suspicions. He thought of the
trouble he had with Mr. Travennes up in
Santa Fé and of the reputation that gentleman
217


BAR-20
possessed. Then the fact that Mr. Travennes
was the leader of the local vigilantes came to
his assistance and he was sure that the captain
had a hand in the change. All these points
existed in misty groups in his mind, but the
next remark of the landlord caused them to
rush together and reveal the plot.
Good," said the landlord, flopping an-
other Aapjack, “and a warnin' to hoss
thieves."
“Ahem,” coughed Mr. Cassidy and then
continued, “is he a tall, lanky, yaller-headed
son-of-a-gun, with a big nose an' lots of
ears?"
Mebby so," answered the host.
"Um, slopping over into bad Sioux,"
thought Mr. Cassidy, and then said aloud,
“How long has he hung around this here
layout?” at the same time passing a warning
glance at his companion.
The landlord straightened up.
“Look
here, stranger, if yu hankers after his pedigree
v so all-fired hard yu had best pump him.”
“I told yu this here feller wasn't a man
what would give away all he knowed,” lied
218


HOSPITALITY OF TRAVENNES
Mr. Connors, turning to his friend and indi-
cating the host. “He ain't got time for that.
Anybody can see that he is a powerful busy
man. An' then he ain't no child."
Mr. Cassidy thought that the landlord
could tell all he knew in about five minutes
and then not break any speed records for con-
versation, but he looked properly awed and
impressed. “Well,
yu
needn't
go an' get mad
about it! I didn't know, did I?"
“Who's gettin' mad? ”pugnaciously asked
Mr. Connors. After his injured feelings had
been soothed by Mr. Cassidy's sullen silence
he again turned to the landlord.
What did this Travennes look like when
yu saw him last?" coaxed Mr. Connors.
“Th' same as he does now, as yu can see
by lookin' out of th' window. That's him
down th' street," enlightened the host, thaw-
ing to the pleasant Mr. Connors.
Mr. Cassidy adopted the suggestion and
frowned. Mr. Travennes and two compan-
ions were walking toward the corral and Mr.
Cassidy once again slid out of the window,
his friend going by the door.
219


CHAPTER XIII
TRAVENNES' DISCOMFITURE
WH
HEN Mr. Travennes looked over the
corral fence he was much chagrined
to see a man and a Colt's .45, both paying
strict attention to his nose.
Mornin', Duke," said the man with the
gun. “Lose anything?”
Mr. Travennes looked back at his friends
and saw Mr. Connors sitting on a rock hold-
ing two guns. Mr. Travennes' right and left
wings were the targets and they pitted their
frowns against Mr. Connors' smile.
Not that I knows of,” replied Mr. Tra-
vennes, shifting his feet uneasily.
" Find anything? " came from Mr. Cassidy
as he sidled out of the gate.
Nope,” replied the captain of the Ter-
rors, eying the Colt.
“Are yu in th' habit of payin' early morn-
220


TRAVENNES' DISCOMFITURE
in' calls to this here corral? " persisted Mr.
Cassidy, playing with the gun.
“Ya-as. That's my business—I'm th' cap-
tain of th' vigilantes."
That's too bad," sympathized Mr. Cas-
sidy, moving forward a step.
Mr. Travennes looked put out and backed
off. “What yu mean, stickin' me up this-
away?” he asked indignantly.
“ Yu needn't go an' get mad,” responded
Mr. Cassidy. “Just business. Yore cayuse
an'another shore climbed this corral fence
last night an' ate up our bronchs, an' I just
nachurlly want to know about it."
Mr. Travennes looked his surprise and in-
credulity and craned his neck to see for him-
self. When he saw his horse peacefully
scratching itself he swore and looked angrily
up the street. Mr. Connors, behind the
shack, was hidden to the view of those on
the street, and when two men ran up at a
signal from Mr. Travennes, intending to in-
sert themselves in the misunderstanding, they
were promptly lined up with the first two by
the man on the rock.
22 I


BAR 20
“Sit down," invited Mr. Connors, push-
ing a chunk of air out of the way with his
guns. The last two felt a desire to talk and
to argue the case on its merits, but refrained
as the black holes in Mr. Connors' guns
hinted at eruption. “Every time yu opens
yore mouths yu gets closer to th' Great
Divide,” enlightened that person, and they
were childlike in their belief.
Mr. Travennes acted as though he would
like to scratch his thigh where his Colt's
chafed him, but postponed the event and lis-
tened to Mr. Cassidy, who was asking
questions.
“Where's our cayuses, General ? "
Mr. Travennes replied that he didn't
know. He was worried, for he feared that
his captor didn't have a secure hold on the
hammer of the ubiquitous Colt's.
Where's my cayuse ? " persisted Mr. Cas-
sidy.
“I don't know, but I wants to ask yu how
yu got mine," replied Mr. Travennes.
“ Yu tell me how mine got out an' I'll tell
yu how yourn got in,” countered Mr. Cassidy.
222


TRAVENNES' DISCOMFITURE
Mr. Connors added another to his collec-
tion before the captain replied.
“Out in this country people get in trouble
when they're found with other folks' cayuses,'
Mr. Travennes suggested.
Mr. Cassidy looked interested and replied:
“Yu shore ought to borrow some experience,
an' there's lots floating around. More than
one man has smoked in a powder mill, an' th'
number of them planted who looked in th's
muzzle of a empty gun is scandalous. If my
remarks don't perculate right smart I'll ex-
plain."
Mr. Travennes looked down the street
again, saw number five added to the line-up,
and coughed up chunks of broken profanity,
grieving his host by his lack of courtesy.
“Time," announced Mr. Cassidy, inter-
rupting the round. “I wants them cayuses
an' I wants 'em right now. Yu an' me will
amble off an' get 'em. I won't bore yu with
tellin' yu what'll happen if yu gets skittish.
Slope along an' don't be scared; I'm with yu," »
assured Mr. Cassidy as he looked over at Mr.
Connors, whose ascetic soul pined for the fiap-
223


BAR - 20
jacks of which his olfactories caught inter-
mittent whiffs.
Well, Red, I reckons
yu
has
got plenty of
room out here for all yu may corral; anyhow
there ain't a whole lot more. My friend
Slim an' I are shore going to have a devil of
a time if we can't find them cussed bronchs.
Whew, them flapjacks smell like a plain trail
to payday. Just think of th' nice maple juice
we used to get up to Cheyenne on them frosty
mornings."
“Get out of here an' lemme alone! What
do yu allus want to go an' make a feller un-
happy for?
Can't yu keep still about grub
when yu knows I ain't had my morning's feed
yet?" asked Mr. Connors, much aggrieved.
“Well, I'll be back directly an' I'll have
them cayuses or a scalp. Yu tend to business
an’ watch th' herd. That shorthorn yearling
at th' end of th' line”-pointing to a young
man who looked capable of taking risks—
' he looks like he might take a chance an'
gamble with yu,” remarked Mr. Cassidy,
placing Mr. Travennes in front of him and
pushing back his own sombrero.
“ Don't put
224


TRAVENNES' DISCOMFITURE
too much maple juice on them flapjacks, Red,”
he warned as he poked his captive in the back
of the neck as a hint to get along. Fortu-
nately Mr. Connors' closing remarks are lost
to history
Observing that Mr. Travennes headed
south on the quest, Mr. Cassidy reasoned that
the missing bronchos ought to be somewhere
in the north, and he postponed the southern
trip until such time when they would have
more leisure at their disposal. Mr. Tra-
vennes showed a strong inclination to shy at
this arrangement, but quieted down under
persuasion, and they started off toward where
Mr. Cassidy firmly believed the North Pole
and the cayuses to be.
"Yu has got quite a metropolis here,”
pleasantly remarked Mr. Cassidy as under his
direction they made for a distant corral. “I
can see four different types of architecture,
two of 'em on one residence," he continued
as they passed a wood and adobe hut.
doubt the railroad will put a branch down
here some day an' then yu can hire their old
cars for yore public buildings. Then when
“No
225


BAR 20
yu gets a postoffice yu will shore make Chi-
cago hustle some to keep her end up. Let's
assay that hollow for horsehide; it looks
promisin'."
The hollow was investigated but showed
nothing other than cactus and baked alkali.
The corral came next, and there too was emp-
tiness. For an hour the search was unavail-
ing, but at the end of that time Mr. Cassidy
began to notice signs of nervousness on the
part of his guest, which grew less as they
proceeded. Then Mr. Cassidy retraced their
steps to the place where the nervousness first
developed and tried another way and once
more returned to the starting point.
“Yu seems to hanker for this fool exer-
cise," quoth Mr. Travennes with much sar-
If yu reckons I'm fond of this locoed
ramblin' yu shore needs enlightenment."
“Sometimes I do get these fits," confessed
Mr. Cassidy, “an' when I do I'm dead sore
on objections. Let's peek in that there hut,"
he suggested.
“Huh; yore ideas of cayuses are mighty
peculiar. Why don't you look for 'em up on
casm.
226


TRAVENNES' DISCOMFITURE
I
those cactuses or behind that mesquite ?
wouldn't be a heap surprised if they was
roostin' on th' roof. They are mighty
knowing animals, cayuses. I once saw one
that could figger like a schoolmarm," re-
marked Mr. Travennes, beginning sarcastic-
ally and toning it down as he proceeded, out
of respect for his companion's gun.
“Well, they might be in th' shack,” re-
plied Mr. Cassidy Cayuses know so much
that it takes a month to unlearn them. I
wouldn't like to bet they ain't in that hut,
though."
Mr. Travennes snickered in a manner de-
cidedly uncomplimentary and began to whis-
tle, softly at first. The gentleman from the
Bar-20 noticed that his companion was a
musician; that when he came to a strong part
he increased the tones until they bid to be
heard at several hundred yards. When Mr.
Travennes had reached a most passionate part
in “Juanita ” and was expanding his lungs
to do it justice he was rudely stopped by the
insistent pressure of his guard's Colt's on the
most ticklish part of his ear.
227


BAR-20
“I shore wish yu wouldn't strain yoreself
thataway,” said Mr. Cassidy, thinking that
Mr. Travennes might be endeavoring to call
assistance. “I went an' promised my mother
on her deathbed that I wouldn't let nobody
whistle out loud like that, an' th' opery is
hereby stopped. Besides, somebody might
hear them mournful tones an' think that some-
thing is th' matter, which it ain't."
Mr. Travennes substituted heartfelt curs-
ing, all of which was heavily accented.
As they approached the hut Mr. Cassidy
again tickled his prisoner and insisted that he
be very quiet, as his cayuse was very sensitive
to noise and it might be there. Mr. Cassidy
still thought Mr. Travennes might have
friends in the hut and wouldn't for the world
disturb them, as he would present a splendid
target as he approached the building.
228


CHAPTER XIV
THE TALE OF A CIGARETTE
TO
HE open door revealed three men asleep
on the earthen floor, two of whom were
Mexicans. Mr. Cassidy then for the first
time felt called upon to relieve his companion
of the Colt's which so sorely itched that gen-
tleman's thigh and then disarmed the sleeping
guards.
“One man an' a half,” murmured Mr.
Cassidy, it being in his creed that it took four
“Greasers" to make one Texan.
In the far corner of the room were two
bronchos, one of which tried in vain to kick
Mr. Cassidy, not realizing that he was ten
feet away. The noise awakened the sleepers,
who sat up and then sprang to their feet, their
hands instinctively streaking to their thighs
for the weapons which peeked contentedly
from the bosom of Mr. Cassidy's open shirt.
One of the Mexicans made a lightning-like
229


THE TALE OF A CIGARETTE
an' Alkaline in five hours," he promised, as he
made his way toward the animal.
Mr. Travennes walked over to the opposite
wall and took down a pouch of tobacco which
hung from a peg. He did this in a manner
suggesting ownership, and after he had deftly
rolled a cigarette with one hand he put the
pouch in his pocket and, lighting up, inhaled
deeply and with much satisfaction. Mr. Cas-
sidy turned around and glanced the group
over, wondering if the tobacco had been left
in the hut on a former call.
“ Did yu find yore makings?” he asked,
with a note of congratulation in his voice.
" Yep. Want one?” asked Mr. Trav-
ennes.
Mr. Cassidy ignored the offer and turned
to the guard whom he had found asleep.
“Is that his tobacco ?” he asked, and the
guard, anxious to make everything run
smoothly, told the truth and answered:
“Shore. He left it here last night," where-
upon Mr. Travennes swore and Mr. Cassidy
smiled grimly.
“Then yu knows how yore cayuse got
231


BAR – 20
in an' how mine got out,” said the latter.
“I wish yu would explain," he added, fond-
ling his Colt's.
Mr. Travennes frowned and remained
silent.
“I can tell yu, anyhow," continued Mr.
Cassidy, still smiling, but his eyes and jaw
belied the smile. " Yu took them cayuses
out because yu wanted yourn to be found in
their places. Yu remembered Santa Fé an'
it rankled in yu. Not being man enough
to notify me that yu'd shoot on sight an'
being afraid my friends would get yu if yu
plugged me on th' sly, yu tried to make out
v'that me an' Red rustled yore cayuses. That
meant a lynching with me an' Red in th'
places of honor. Yu never saw Red afore,
but yu didn't care if he went with me. Yu
don't deserve fair play, but I'm going to give
it to yu because I don't want anybody to say
that any of th' Bar-20 ever murdered a
man, not even a skunk like yu. My friends
have treated me too square for that. Yu can
take this gun an' yu can do one of three
things with it, which are: walk out in th'
232


THE TALE OF A CIGARETTE
open a hundred paces an' then turn an' walk
toward me--after you face me yu can set
it a-going whenever yu want to; th' second is,
put it under yore hat an' i'll put mine an
th' others back by th' cayuses. Then we'll
toss up an' th' lucky man gets it to use as he
wants. Th' third is, shoot yourself.”
Mr. Cassidy punctuated the close of his
ultimatum by handing over the weapon, muz-
zle first, and, because the other might be an
adept at “twirling," he kept its recipient
covered during the operation. Then, placing
his second Colt's with the captured weapons,
he threw them through the door, being very
careful not to lose the drop on his now armed
prisoner.
Mr. Travennes looked around and wiped
the sweat from his forehead, and being an
observant gentleman, took the proffered
weapon and walked to the east, directly to-
ward the sun, which at this time was half-
way to the meridian.
The glare of its
straight rays and those reflected from the
shining sand would, in a measure, bother Mr.
Cassidy and interfere with the accuracy of
233


BAR 20
his aim, and he was always thankful for small
favors.
Mr. Travennes was the possessor of accu-
rate knowledge regarding the lay of the land,
and the thought came to him that there was
a small but deep hole out toward the east
and that it was about the required distance
away. This had been dug by a man who had
labored all day in the burning sun to make
an oven so that he could cook mesquite root
in the manner he had seen the Apaches cook
it. Mr. Travennes blessed hobbies, specific
and general, stumbled thoughtlessly and dis.
appeared from sight as the surprised Mr.
Cassidy started forward to offer his assist-
ance. Upon emphatic notification from the
man in the hole that his help was not needed,
Mr. Cassidy wheeled around and in great
haste covered the distance separating him
from the hut, whereupon Mr. Travennes
swore in self-congratulation and regret. Mr.
Cassidy's shots barked a cactus which leaned
near Mr. Travennes' head and flecked several
clouds of alkali near that person's nose, caus-
ing him to sneeze, duck, and grin.
234


THE TALE OF A CIGARETTE
“It's his own gun,” grumbled Mr. Cas-
sidy as a bullet passed through his sombrero,
having in mind the fact that his opponent
had a whole belt full of .41's. If it had been
Mr. Cassidy's gun that had been handed over
he would have enjoyed the joke on Mr. Trav-
ennes, who would have had five cartridges
between himself and the promised eternity,
as he would have been unable to use the .41's
in Mr. Cassidy's .45, while the latter would
have gladly consented to the change, having
as he did an extra .45. Never before had
Mr. Cassidy looked with reproach upon his
.45 caliber Colt's, and he sighed as he used
it to notify Mr. Travennes that arbitration
was not to be considered, which that person
indorsed, said indorsement passing so close
to Mr. Cassidy's ear that he felt the breeze
made by it.
“He's been practicin' since I plugged him
up in Santa Fé," thought Mr. Cassidy, as he
retired around the hut to formulate a plan
of campaign.
Mr. Travennes sang “Hi-le, hi-lo," and
other selections, principally others, and won-
235


BAR 20
dered how Mr. Cassidy could hoist him out.
The slack of his belt informed him that he
was in the middle of a fast, and suggested
starvation as the derrick that his honorable
and disgusted adversary might employ.
Mr. Cassidy, while figuring out his method
of procedure, absent-mindedly jabbed a fin-
ger in his eye, and the ensuing tears floated
an idea to him. He had always had great
respect for ricochet shots since his friend
Skinny Thompson had proved their worth
on the hides of Sioux. If he could disturb
the sand and convey several grains of it to
Mr. Travennes' eyes the game would be much
simplified. While planning for the proposed
excavation, à la Colt's, he noticed several
stones lying near at hand, and a new and bet-
ter scheme presented itself for his considera-
tion. If Mr. Travennes could be persuaded
to get out of-well, it was worth trying.
Mr. Cassidy lined up his gloomy collec-
tion and tersely ordered them to turn their
backs to him and to stay in that position, the
suggestion being that if they looked around
they wouldn't be able to dodge quickly
236


THE TALE OF A CIGARETTE
enough. He then slipped bits of his lariat
over their wrists and ankles, tying wrists to
ankles and each man to his neighbor. That
finished to his satisfaction, he dragged them
in the hut to save them from the burning rays
of the sun. Having performed this act of
kindness, he crept along the hot sand, tak-
ing advantage of every bit of cover afforded,
and at last he reached a point within a hun-
dred feet of the besieged. During the trip
Mr. Travennes sang to his heart's content,
some of the words being improvised for the
occasion and were not calculated to increase
Mr. Cassidy's respect for his own wisdom if
he should hear them. Mr. Cassidy heard,
however, and several fragments so forcibly
intruded on his peace of mind that he deter-
mined to put on the last verse himself and to
suit himself.
Suddenly Mr. Travennes poked his head
up and glanced at the hut. He was down
again so quickly that there was no chance
for a shot at him and he believed that his
enemy was still sojourning in the rear of the
building, which caused him to fear that he
237


BAR 20
was expected to live on nothing as long as he
could and then give himself up. Just to
show his defiance he stretched himself out
on his back and sang with all his might, his
sombrero over his face to keep the glare of
the sun out of his eyes. He was interrupted,
however, forgot to finish a verse as he had
intended, and jumped to one side as a stone
bounced off his leg. Looking up, he saw
another missile curve into his patch of sky
and swiftly bear down on him. He avoided
it by a hair's breadth and wondered what
had happened. Then what Mr. Travennes
thought was a balloon, being unsophisticated
in matters pertaining to aerial navigation,
swooped down upon him and smote him on
the shoulder and also bounced off. Mr.
Travennes hastily laid music aside and took
up elocution as he dodged another stone and
wished that the mesquite-loving crank had
put on a roof. In evading the projectile he
let his sombrero appear on a level with the
desert, and the hum of a bullet as it passed
through his head-gear and into the opposite
238


THE TALE OF A CIGARETTE
wall made him wish that there had been
constructed a cellar, also.
“Hi-le, hi-lo" intruded upon his ear, as
Mr. Cassidy got rid of the surplus of his
heart's joy. Another stone the size of a
man's foot shaved Mr. Travennes' ear and
he hugged the side of the hole nearest his
enemy.
“Hibernate, blank yu!” derisively shouted
the human catapult as he released a chunk
of sandstone the size of a quail. “Draw in
yore laigs an' buck," was his God-speed to
the missile.
"Hey, yu!” indignantly yowled Mr.
Travennes from his defective storm cellar.
yu know any better'n to heave things
thataway?
“ Hi-le, hi-lo," sang Mr. Cassidy, as an-
other stone soared aloft in the direction of
the complainant. Then he stood erect and
awaited results with a Colt's in his hand
leveled at the rim of the hole. A hat waved
and an excited voice bit off chunks of expostu-
lation and asked for an armistice. Then two
“ Don't
239


BAR 20
" In a
hands shot up and Mr. Travennes, sore and
disgusted and desperate, popped his head up
and blinked at Mr. Cassidy's gun.
“Yu was fillin' th' hole up,” remarked
Mr. Travennes in an accusing tone, hiding
the real reason for his evacuation.
little while I'd a been th' top of a pile in-
stead of th' bottom of a hole," he announced,
crawling out and rubbing his head.
Mr. Cassidy grinned and ordered his pris-
oner to one side while he secured the weapon
which lay in the hole. Having obtained it
as quickly as possible he slid it in his open
shirt and clambered out again.
“Yu remind me of a feller I used to
know," remarked Mr. Travennes, as he led
the way to the hut, trying not to limp. “Only
he throwed dynamite. That was th' way he
cleared off chaparral—blowed it off. He got
so used to heaving away everything he lit
that he spoiled three pipes in two days.”
Mr. Cassidy laughed at the fiction and
then became grave as he pictured Mr. Con-
nors sitting on the rock and facing down a
240


THE TALE OF A CIGARETTE
line of men, any one of whom was capable
of his destruction if given the interval of a
second.
When they arrived at the hut Mr. Cas-
sidy observed that the prisoners had moved
considerably. There was a cleanly swept
trail four yards long where they had dragged
themselves, and they sat in the end nearer
the guns. Mr. Cassidy smiled and fired close
to the Mexican's ear, who lost in one fright-
ened jump a little of what he had so labori-
ously gained.
“Yu'll wear out yore pants," said Mr.
Cassidy, and then added grimly, “an' my
patience."
Mr. Travennes smiled and thought of the
man who had so ably seconded Mr. Cassidy's
efforts and who was probably shot by this
time. The outfit of the Bar-20 was so
well known throughout the land that he was
aware the name of the other was Red Con-
nors. An unreasoning streak of sarcasm
swept over him and he could not resist the
opportunity to get in a stab at his captor.
241


BAR – 20
Mebby yore pard has wore out some-
body's patience, too,” said Mr. Travennes,
suggestively and with venom.
His captor wheeled toward him, his face
white with passion, and Mr. Travennes
shrank back and regretted the words.
“I ain't shootin' dogs this here trip,” said
Mr. Cassidy, trembling with scorn and anger,
so yu can pull yourself together. I'll give
yu another chance, but yu wants to hope
almighty hard that Red is O. K. If he ain't,
I'll blow yu so many ways at once that if yu
sprouts yu'll make a good acre of wieds. If
he is all right yu'd better vamoose this range,
for there won't be no hole for yu to crawl
into next time. What friends yu have left
I will have to tote yu off an' plant yu," he fin-
ished with emphasis. He drove the horses
outside, and, after severing the bonds on his
prisoners, lined them up.
“Yu,” he began, indicating all but Mr.
Travennes," yu amble right smart toward
Canada," pointing to the north. “ Keep
a-going till yu gets far enough away so a
Colt's won't find yu.” Here he grinned with
242


THE TALE OF A CIGARETTE
delight as he saw his Sharp's rifle in its sheath
on his saddle and, drawing it forth, he put
away his Colt's and glanced at the trio, who
were already industriously plodding north-
ward. “ Hey!” he shouted, and when they
sullenly turned to see what new idea he had
found he gleefully waved his rifle at them and
warned them farther: “This is a Sharp's an'
it's good for half a mile, so don't stop none
too soon."
Having sent them directly away from their
friends so they could not have him “potted
on the way back, he mounted his broncho and
indicated to Mr. Travennes that he, too, was
to ride, watching that that person did not
make use of the Winchester which Mr. Con-
nors was foolish enough to carry around on
his saddle. Winchesters were Mr. Cassidy's
pet aversion and Mr. Connors' most prized
possession, this difference of opinion having
upon many occasions caused hasty words be-
tween them. Mr. Connors, being better with
his Winchester than Mr. Cassidy was with his
Sharp's, had frequently proved that his choice
was the wiser, but Mr. Cassidy was loyal to
243


BAR 20
the Sharp's and refused to be convinced.
Now, however, the Winchester became preg-
nant with possibilities and, therefore, Mr.
Travennes rode a few yards to the left and in
advance, where the rifle was in plain sight,
hanging as it did on the right of Mr. Con-
nors' saddle, which Mr. Travennes graced so
well.
The journey back to town was made in
good time and when they came to the build-
ings Mr. Cassidy dismounted and bade his
companion do likewise, there being too many
corners that a fleeing rider could take advan-
tage of. Mr. Travennes felt of his bumps
and did so, wishing hard things ahout Mr.
Cassidy.
244


CHAPTER XV
THE PENALTY
WHITE
IILE Mr. Travennes had been enter-
tained in the manner narrated, Mr.
Connors had passed the time by relating stale
jokes to the uproarious laughter of his ex-
tremely bored audience, who had heard the
aged efforts many times since they had first
seen the light of day, and most of whom
earnestly longed for a drink. The landlord,
hearing the hilarity, had taken advantage of
the opportunity offered to see a free show.
Not being able to see what the occasion was
for the mirth, he had pulled on his boots and
made his way to the show with a flapjack in
the skillet, which, in his haste, he had for-
gotten to put down. He felt sure that he
would be entertained, and he was not disap-
pointed. He rounded the corner and was
enthusiastically welcomed by the hungry Mr.
Connors, whose ubiquitous guns coaxed from
the skillet its dyspeptic wad.
245


BAR - 20
“Th' saints be praised !” ejaculated Mr.
Connors as a matter of form, not having a
very clear idea of just what saints were, but
he knew what Aapjacks were and greedily
overcame the heroic resistance of the one pro-
vided by chance and his own guns. As he
rolled his eyes in ecstatic content the very man
Mr. Cassidy had warned him against sud-
denly arose and in great haste disappeared
around the corner of the corral, from which
point of vantage he vented his displeasure at
the treatment he had received by wasting six
shots at the mortified Mr. Connors.
“Steady!” sang out that gentleman as the
line-up wavered. “He's a precedent to hell
for
yu
fellers! Don't yu get ambitious, none
whatever." Then he wondered how long
it would take the fugitive to secure a rifle
and return to release the others by drilling
him at long range.
His thoughts were interrupted by the
vision of a red head that climbed into view
over a rise a short distance off and he grinned
his delight as Mr. Cassidy loomed up, jaunty
and triumphant. Mr. Cassidy was executing
246


THE PENALTY
calisthenics with a Colt's in the rear of Mr.
Travennes' neck and was leading the horses.
Mr. Connors waved the skillet and his
friend grinned his congratulations at what
the token signified.
“I see yu got some more," said Mr. Cas-
sidy, as he went down the line-up from the
rear and collected nineteen revolvers of vari-
ous makes and conditions, this number being
explained by the fact that all but one of the
prisoners wore two. Then he added the five
that had kicked against his ribs ever since
he had left the hut, and carefully threaded
the end of his lariat through the trigger
guards.
“Looks like we stuck up a government sup-
ply mule, Red," he remarked, as he fastened
the whole collection to his saddle.
“ Four-
teen Colt's, six Steven's, three Remington's
an' one puzzle," he added, examining the
“puzzle."
«« « Made in Germany,' it says,
an' it shore looks like it. It's got little pins
stickin' out of th' cylinder, like yu had to
swat it with a hammer or a rock, or some-
thing. It's real dangerous—warranted to go
247


BAR 20
off, but mostly by itself, I reckon. It looks
more like a cactus than a six-shooter-gosh,
it's a eight-shooter! I allus said them Dutch-
men were bloody-minded cusses—think of be-
ing able to shoot yoreself eight times before
th' blamed thing stops!" Then, looking at
the line-up for the owner of the weapon, he
laughed at the woeful countenances displayed.
Did they sidle in by companies or squads?
he asked.
By twos, mostly. Then they parade-
rested an' got discharged from duty. I had
eleven, but one got homesick, or disgusted,
or something, an' deserted. It was that
cussed flapjack," confessed and explained Mr.
Connors.
What!” said Mr. Cassidy in a loud
voice. Got away! Well, we'll have to
make our get-away plumb sudden or we'll
never go."
At this instant the escaped man again be-
gan
his bombardment from the corner of the
corral and Mr. Cassidy paused, indignant at
the fusillade which tore up the dust at his
feet. He looked reproachfully at Mr. Con-
248


THE PENALTY
“Has Hopalong an' Red showed up yet?
asked Mr. Peters, frowning at the delay al-
ready caused.
'Nope," replied Johnny Nelson, as he
paused from tormenting Billy Williams.
At that minute the doorway was darkened
and Mr. Cassidy and Mr. Connors entered
and called for refreshments. Mr. Cassidy
dropped a huge bundle of six-shooters on the
floor, making caustic remarks regarding their
utility.
“What's th' matter?" inquired Mr.
Peters of Mr. Cassidy. “Yu looks mad an'
anxious. An' where in h- did yu corral
them guns?"
Mr. Cassidy drank deep and then reported
with much heat what had occurred at Cactus
Springs and added that he wanted to go back
and wipe out the town, said desire being
luridly endorsed by Mr. Connors.
Why, shore,” said Mr. Peters, "we'll all
go. Such doings must be stopped instanter."
Then he turned to the assembled outfits and
asked for a vote, which was unanimous for
war.
251


BAR 20
Shortly afterward eighteen angry cow-
punchers rode to the east, two red-haired
gentlemen well in front and urging speed.
It was 8 P.M. when they left Alkaline, and the
cool of the night was so delightful that the
feeling of ease which came upon them made
them lax and they lost three hours in straying
from the dim trail. At eight o'clock the next
morning they came in sight of their destina-
tion and separated into two squads, Mr. Cas-
sidy leading the northern division and Mr.
Connors the one which circled to the south.
The intention was to attack from two direc-
tions, thus taking the town from front and
rear.
Cactus Springs lay gasping in the excessive
heat and the vigilantes who had toed Mr.
Connors' line the day before were lounging
in the shade of the “ Palace" saloon, telling
what they would do if they ever faced the
same man again. Half a dozen sympathizers
offered gratuitous condolence and advice and
all were positive that they knew where Mr.
Cassidy and Mr. Connors would go when
they died.
252


THE PENALTY
The rolling thunder of madly pounding
hoofs disturbed their post-mortem and they
arose in a body to flee from half their num-
ber, who, guns in hands, charged down upon
them through clouds of sickly white smoke.
Travennes' Terrors were minus many weap-
ons and they could not be expected to give a
glorious account of themselves. Windows
rattled and fell in and doors and walls gave
off peculiar sounds as they grew full of holes.
Above the riot rattled the incessant crack of
Colt's and Winchester, emphasized at close
intervals by the assertive roar of .60 caliber
buffalo guns. Off to the south came another
rumble of hoofs and Mr. Connors, leading
the second squad, arrived to participate in the
payment of the debt.
Smoke spurted from windows and other
points of vantage and hung wavering in the
heated air. The shattering of woodwork told
of .60 calibers finding their rest, and the
whines that grew and diminished in the air
sang the course of .45's.
While the fight raged hottest Mr. Nelson
sprang from his horse and ran to the “ Pal.
253


BAR -20
ace," where he collected and piled a heap of
tinderlike wood, and soon the building burst
out in Aames, which, spreading, swept the
town from end to end.
Mr. Cassidy fired slowly and seemed to be
waiting for something. Mr. Connors laid
aside his hot Winchester and devoted his at-
tention to his Colt's. A spurt of flame and
smoke leaped from the window of a 'dobe hut
and Mr. Connors sat down, firing as he went.
A howl from the window informed him that
he had made a hit, and Mr. Cassidy ran out
and dragged him to the shelter of a near-by
bowlder and asked how much he was hurt.
“Not much—in th' calf," grunted Mr.
Connors. “He was a bad shot-must have
been the cuss that got away yesterday," specu-
lated the injured man as he slowly arose to
his feet. Mr. Cassidy dissented from force
of habit and returned to his station.
Mr. Travennes, who was sleeping late that
morning, coughed and fought for air in his
sleep, awakened in smoke, rubbed his eyes
to make sure and, scorning trousers and shirt,
254


THE PENALTY
ran clad in his red woolen undergarments
to the corral, where he mounted his scared
horse and rode for the desert and safety.
Mr. Cassidy, swearing at the marksman-
ship of a man who fired at his head and per-
forated his sombrero, saw a crimson rider
sweep down upon him, said rider being her.
alded by a blazing .41.
“Gosh!” ejaculated Mr. Cassidy, scarcely
believing his eyes. “Oh, it's my friend Slim
going to h--)," he remarked to himself in
audible and relieved explanation. Mr. Cas-
sidy's Colt's cracked a protest and then he
joined Mr. Peters and the others and with
them fought his way out of the flame-swept
town of Cactus Springs.
An hour later Mr. Connors glanced behind
him at the smoke silhouetted on the horizon
and pushed his way to where Mr. Cassidy
rode in silence. Mr. Connors grinned at his
friend of the red hair, who responded in the
same manner.
“Did yu see Slim ? " casually inquired Mr.
Connors, looking off to the south.
255


BAR 20
Mr. Cassidy sat upright in his saddle and
felt of his Colt's. “Yes," he replied, " I saw
him."
Mr. Connors thereupon galloped on in
silence.
256


CHAPTER XVI
RUSTLERS ON THE RANGE
Tafecta air ete Care este peringa had more
HE affair at Cactus Springs had more
effect on
the life at the Bar-20 than
was realized by the foreman. News travels
rapidly, and certain men, whose attributes
were not of the sweetest, heard of it and
swore vengeance, for Slim Travennes had
many friends, and the result of his passing
began to show itself. Outlaws have as their
strongest defense the fear which they inspire,
and little time was lost in making reprisals,
and these caused Buck Peters to ride into
Buckskin one bright October morning and
then out the other side of the town. Coming
to himself with a start he looked around
shamefacedly and retraced his course. He
was very much troubled, for, as foreman of
the Bar-20, he had many responsibilities, and
when things ceased to go aright he was ex-
pected not only to find the cause of the evil,
257


BAR-20
but also the remedy. That was what he was
paid seventy dollars a month for and that was
what he had been endeavoring to do. As
yet, however, he had only accomplished what
the meanest cook's assistant had done. He
knew the cause of his present woes to be
rustlers (cattle thieves), and that was all.
Riding down the wide, quiet street, he
stopped and dismounted before the ever-open
door of a ramshackle one-story frame build-
ing. Tossing the reins over the flattened ears
of his vicious pinto he strode into the build-
ing and leaned easily against the bar, where
he drummed with his fingers and sank into a
reverie.
A shining bald pate, bowed over an open
box, turned around and revealed a florid face,
set with two small, twinkling blue eyes, as the
proprietor, wiping his hands
on
his trousers,
made his way to Buck's end of the bar.
Mornin', Buck. How's things ?”
The foreman, lost in his reverie, continued
to stare out the door.
Mornin'," repeated the man behind the
bar. “How's things?"
258


RUSTLERS ON THE RANGE
“Oh!" ejaculated the foreman, smiling,
purty cussed."
“Anything new?"
'Th' C-80 lost another herd last night.”
His companion swore and placed a bottle
at the foreman's elbow, but the latter shook
his head. "Not this mornin'-I'll try one of
them vile cigars, however."
Them cigars are th' very best that-'
began the proprietor, executing the order.
"Oh, hell!” exclaimed Buck with weary
disgust. “Yu don't have to palaver none: I
shore knows all that by heart."
"Them cigars" repeated the proprietor.
“Yas, yas; them cigars—I know all about
them cigars. Yu gets them for twenty dol-
lars a thousand an' hypnotizes us into payin'
yu a hundred," replied the foreman, biting
off the end of his weed. Then he stared
moodily and frowned. “I wonder why it
is?” he asked. “We punchers like good
stuff an' we pays good prices with good
money. What do we get ? Why, cabbage
leaves an' leather for our smokin' an' alco-
hol an' extract for our drink. Now, up in
259


RUSTLERS ON THE RANGE
“Nary a boy. Who do yu reckon's doin'
all this rustlin'?"
" I'm reckonin', not shoutin',” responded
the foreman.
The proprietor looked out the window and
grinned: “Here comes one of yourn now.”
The newcomer stopped his horse in a cloud
of dust, playfully kicked the animal in the
ribs and entered, dusting the alkali from him
with a huge sombrero. Then he straightened
up and sniffed: “What's burnin'?” he asked,
simulating alarm. Then he noticed the cigar
between the teeth of his foreman and
grinned: “Gee, but yore a brave man, Buck."
“Hullo, Hopalong," said the foreman.
“Want a smoke?” waving his hand toward
the box on the bar.
Mr. Hopalong Cassidy side-stepped and
began to roll a cigarette: “Shore, but I'll
burn my own— I know what it is."
“What was yu doin' to my cayuse afore
yu come in ? ” asked Buck.
"Nothin'," replied the newcomer. "That
was mine what I kicked in th' corrugations."
“How is it yore ridin' th' calico ? " asked
66
261


RUSTLERS ON THE RANGE
Yu better send for some decent stuff afore he
comes to town," he warned.
Buck swung away from the bar and looked
at his dead cigar. Then he turned to Hopa-
long “What did you find?” he asked.
"Same old story: nice wide trail up to th’
Staked Plain-then nothin'."
“ It shore beats me," soliloquized the fore-
man.
" It shore beats me."
Think it was Tamale José's old gang?”
asked Hopalong
“If it was they took th' wrong trail home
—that ain't th' way to Mexico."
Hopalong tossed aside his half-smoked
cigarette. Well, come on home; what's
th' use stewin' over it? It'll come out all
0. K. in th' wash." Then he laughed:
“There won't be no piebald waitin' for it.”
Evading Buck's playful blow he led the
way to the door, and soon they were a cloud
of dust on the plain. The proprietor, despair-
ing of customers under the circumstances,
absent-mindedly wiped off the bar, and sought
his chair for a nap, grumbling about the way
his trade had fallen off, for there were few
263


BAR 20
customers, and those who did call were heavy
with loss of sleep, and with anxiety, and only
paused long enough to toss off their drink.
On the ranges there were occurrences which
tried men's souls.
For several weeks cattle had been disap-
pearing from the ranges and the losses had
long since passed the magnitude of those
suffered when Tamale José and his men had
crossed the Rio Grande and repeatedly levied
heavy toll on the sleek herds of the Pecos
Valley. Tamale José had raided once too
often, and prosperity and plenty had followed
on the ranches and the losses had been for-
gotten until the fall round-ups clearly showed
that rustlers were again at work.
Despite the ingenuity of the ranch owners
and the unceasing vigilance and night rides
of the cow-punchers, the losses steadily in-
creased until there was promised a shortage
which would permit no drive to the western
terminals of the railroad that year. For two
weeks the banks of the Rio Grande had been
patrolled and sharp-eyed men searched daily
for trails leading southward, for it was not
264


RUSTLERS ON THE RANGE
strange to think that the old raiders were
again at work, notwithstanding the fact that
they had paid dearly for their former depre-
dations. The patrols failed to discover any-
thing out of the ordinary and the searchers
found no trails. Then it was that the owners
and foremen of the four central ranches met
in Cowan's saloon and sat closeted together
for all of one hot afternoon.
The conference resulted in riders being dis-
patched from all the ranches represented, and
one of the couriers, Mr. Red Connors, rode
north, his destination being far-away Mon-
tana. All the ranches within a radius of a
hundred miles received letters and blanks and
one week later the Pecos Valley Cattle-Thief
Elimination Association was organized and
working, with Buck as Chief Ranger.
One of the outcomes of Buck's appoint-
ment was a sudden and marked immigration
into the affected territory. Mr. Connors re-
turned from Montana with Mr. Frenchy
McAllister, the foreman of the Tin-Cup, who
was accompanied by six of his best and most
trusted men. Mr. McAllister and party were
265


BAR - 20
followed by Mr. You-bet Somes, foreman of
the Two-X-Two of Arizona, and five of his
punchers, and later on the same day Mr. Pie
Willis, accompanied by Mr. Billy Jordan and
his two brothers, arrived from the Pan-
handle. The O-Bar-O, situated close to the
town of Muddy Wells, increased its payroll
by the addition of nine men, each of whom
bore the written recommendation of the fore-
man of the Bar-20. The C-80, Double
Arrow and the Three Triangle also received
heavy reinforcements, and even Carter, owner
of the Barred Horseshoe, far removed from
zone of the depredations, increased
his outfits by half their regular strength.
Buck believed that if a thing was worth doing
at all that it was worth doing very well, and
his acquaintances were numerous and loyal.
The collection of individuals that responded
to the call were noteworthy examples of
✓ "gun-play” and their aggregate value was
at par with twice their numbers in cavalry.
Each ranch had one large ranch-house and
numerous line-houses scattered along the
boundaries. These latter, while intended as
the zone
266


RUSTLERS ON THE RANGE
ruined house with a hole in the back of his
head, which proved that one man was in-
capable of watching all the loopholes in four
walls at once. There must have been some
casualities on the other side, for Johnny was
reputed to be very painstaking in his "
gun-
play," and the empty shells which lay scat-
tered on the floor did not stand for as many
ciphers, of that his foreman was positive. He
was buried the day he was found, and the
news of his death ran quickly from ranch to
ranch and made more than one careless
puncher arise and pace the floor in anger.
More men came to the Double Arrow and its
sentries were doubled. The depredations
continued, however, and one night a week
later Frank Swift reeled into the ranch-house
and fell exhausted across the supper table.
Rolling hoof-beats echoed flatly and died
away on the plain, but the men who pursued
them returned empty handed. The wounds
of the unfortunate were roughly dressed and
in his delirium he recounted the fight. His
companion was found literally shot to pieces
twenty paces from the door. One wall was
269


CHAPTER XVII
MR. TRENDLEY ASSUMES ADDED
IMPORTANCE
a well organized system was evident.
That they were directed by a master of the
game was ceaselessly beaten into the con-
sciousness of the Association by the diversity,
dash and success of their raids. No one, save
the three men whom they had destroyed, had
ever seen them. But, like Tamale José, they
had raided once too often.
Mr. Trendley, more familiarly known to
Slippery," was the possessor of a
biased conscience, if any at all. Tall, gaunt
and weather-beaten and with coal-black eyes
set deep beneath hairless eyebrows, he was
sinister and forbidding. Into his forty-five
years of existence he had crowded a century
of experience, and unsavory rumors about him
existed in all parts of the great West. From
men as
271


BAR -20
Canada to Mexico and from Sacramento to
Westport his name stood for brigandage.
His operations had been conducted with such
consummate cleverness that in all the accusa-
tions, there was lacking proof. Only once
had he erred, and then in the spirit of pure
deviltry and in the days of youthful folly,
and his mistake was a written note. He was
even thought by some to have been concerned
in the Mountain Meadow Massacre; others
thought him to have been the leader of the
band of outlaws that had plundered along the
Santa Fé Trail in the late '60's. In Mon-
tana and Wyoming he was held responsible
for the outrages of the band that had
descended from the Hole-in-the-Wall terri-
tory and for over a hundred miles carried
murder and theft that shamed as being weak
the most assiduous efforts of zealous Chey-
It was in this last raid that he had
made the mistake and it was in this raid that
Frenchy McAllister had lost his wife.
When Frenchy had first been approached
by Buck as to his going in search of the
rustlers he had asked to go alone. This had
ennes.
272


TRENDLEY’S IMPORTANCE
been denied by the foreman of the Bar-20
because the men whom he had selected to
accompany the scout were of such caliber
that their presence could not possibly form
a hindrance. Besides being his most trusted
friends they were regarded by him as being
the two best exponents of “gun-play” that
the West afforded. Each was a specialist :
Hopalong, expert beyond belief with his
Colt's six-shooters, was only approached by
Red, whose Winchester was renowned for its
accuracy. The three made
The three made a perfect com-
bination, as the rashness of the two younger
men would be under the controlling influence
of a man who could retain his coolness of
mind under all circumstances.
When Buck and Frenchy looked into each
there
sprang
into the mind of
each the same name-Slippery Trendley.
Both had spent the greater part of a year
in fruitless search for that person, the fore-
man of the Tin-Cup in vengeance for the
murder of his wife, the blasting of his pros-
pects and the loss of his herds; Buck, out of
sympathy for his friend and also because they
other's eyes
273


BAR 20
had been partners in the Double Y. Now
that the years had passed and the long-sought-
for opportunity was believed to be at hand,
there was promised either a cessation of the
outrages or that Buck would never again see
his friends.
When the three mounted and came to him
for final instructions Buck forced himself to
be almost repellent in order to be capable of
coherent speech. Hopalong glanced sharply
at him and then understood, Red was all
attention and eagerness and remarked noth-
ing but the words.
“Have yu ever heard of Slippery Trend-
ley?” harshly inquired the foreman.
They nodded, and on the faces of the
younger men a glint of hatred showed itself,
but Frenchy wore his poker countenance.
Buck continued: “Th' reason I asked yu
was because I don't want yu to think yore
goin' on no picnic. I ain't shore it's him, but
I've had some hopeful information. Besides,
he is th' only man I knows of who's capable
v of th' plays that have been made. It's hardly
necessary for me to tell yu to sleep with one
274


TRENDLEY'S IMPORTANCE
eye open and never to get away from yore
guns. Now I'm goin' to tell yu th' hardest
part: yu are goin' to search th' Staked Plain
from one end to th' other, and that's what no
white man's ever done to my knowledge.
“Now, listen to this an' don't forget it:
Twenty miles north from Last Stand Rock
is a spring; ten miles south of that bend in
Hell Arroyo is another. If yu gets lost
within two days from th' time yu enters th'
Plain, put yore left hand on a cactus some-
time between sun-up an' noon, move around
until yu are over its shadow an' then ride
straight ahead—that's south. If you goes
loco beyond Last Stand Rock, follow th'
shadows made before noon—that's th' quick-
est way to th' Pecos. Yu all knows what to
do in a sand-storm, so I won't bore yu with
that. Repeat all I've told yu," he ordered
and they complied.
* I'm tellin' yu this," continued the fore-
man, indicating the two auxiliaries, “because
yu might get separated from Frenchy. Now
I suggests that yu look around near th’ Devils
Rocks: I've heard that there are several water
275


BAR 20
holes among them, an' besides, they might
be turned into fair corrals. Mind yu, I know
what I've said sounds damned idiotic for any-
body that has had as much experience with
th' Staked Plain as I have, but I've had every
other place searched for miles around. Th'
men of all th' ranches have been scoutin' an'
th' Plain is th' only place left. Them rustlers
has got to be found if we have to dig to hell
for them. They've taken th' pot so many
times that they reckons they owns it, an' we've
got to at least make a bluff at drawin' cards.
Mebby they're at th' bottom of th' Pecos,"
here he smiled faintly, “but wherever they
are, we've got to find them. I want to holler
• Keno.'
“If yu finds where they hangs out come
away instanter," here his face hardened and
his eyes narrowed, " for it'll take more than
yu three to deal with them th' way I'm
a-hankerin' for. Come right back to th' Dou-
ble Arrow, send me word by one of their
punchers an' get all the rest yu can afore I
gets there. It'll take me a day to get th'
men together an' to reach yu. I'm goin' to
276


TRENDLEY’S IMPORTANCE
use smoke signals to call th' other ranches,
so there won't be no time lost. Carry all th'
water yu can pack when yu leaves th' Double
Arrow an' don't depend none on cactus juice.
Yu better take a pack horse to carry it, an'
yore grub-yu can shoot it if yu have to hit
th' trail real hard."
The three riders felt of their accouter-
ments, said “ So long," and cantered off for
the pack horse and extra ammunition. Then
they rode toward the Double Arrow, stopping
at Cowan's long enough to spend some
money, and reached the Double Arrow at
nightfall. Early the next morning they
passed the last line-house and, with the pro-
fane well-wishes of its occupants ringing in
their ears, passed onto one of Nature's worst
blunders the Staked Plain.
277


THE SEARCH BEGINS
were water holes on this skillet, but nine out
of ten were death traps, reeking with mineral
poisons, colored and alkaline. The two men-
tioned by Buck could not be depended on,
for they came and went, and more than
one luckless wanderer had depended on
them to allay his thirst, and had died
for his trust. So the scouts rode on in
silence, noting the half-buried skeletons of
cattle which were strewn plentifully on all
sides. Nearly three per cent. of the cattle
belonging to the Double Arrow yearly found
death on this table-land, and the herds of that
ranch numbered many thousand heads. It
was this which made the Double Arrow the
poorest of the ranches, and it was this which
allowed insufficient sentries in its line-houses.
The skeletons were not all of cattle, for at
rare intervals lay the sand-worn frames of
men.
On the morning of the second day the op-
pression increased with the wind and Red
heaved a sigh of restlessness. The sand
began to skip across the plain, in grains at
first and hardly noticeable. Hopalong turned
279


BAR-20
in his saddle and regarded the desert with
apprehension. As he looked he saw that
where grains had shifted handfuls were now
moving. His mount evinced signs of uneasi-
ness and was hard to control. A gust of
wind, stronger than the others, pricked his
face and grains of sand rolled down his neck.
The leather of his saddle emitted strange
noises as if a fairy tattoo was being beaten
upon it and he raised his hand and pointed
off toward the east. The others looked and
saw what appeared to be a fog rise out of
the desert and intervene between them and
As far as eye could reach small
whirlwinds formed and broke and one swept
down and covered them with stinging sand.
The day became darkened and their horses
whinnied in terror and the clumps of mesquite
twisted and turned to the gusts.
Each man knew what was to come upon
them and they dismounted, hobbled their
horses and threw them bodily to the earth,
wrapping a blanket around the head of each.
A rustling as of paper rubbing together became
noticeable and they threw themselves flat
the sun.
280


THE SEARCH BEGINS
upon the earth, their heads wrapped in their
coats and buried in the necks of their mounts.
For an hour they endured the tortures of hell
and then, when the storm had passed, raised
their heads and cursed Creation. Their
bodies burned as though they had been shot
with fine needles and their clothes were
meshes where once was tough cloth. Even
their shoes were perforated and the throat
of each ached with thirst.
Hopalong fumbled at the canteen resting
on his hip and gargled his mouth and throat,
washing down the sand which wouldn't come
up.
His friends did likewise and then looked
around. After some time had elapsed the
loss of their pack horse was noticed and they
swore again. Hopalong took the lead in
getting his horse ready for service and then
rode around in a circle half a mile in diame-
ter, but returned empty handed. The horse
was gone and with it went their main supply
of food and drink.
Frenchy scowled at the shadow of a cactus
and slowly rode toward the northeast, fol-
lowed closely by his friends. His hand
281


THE SEARCH BEGINS
up here shore earns all he steals.” Hopalong
grumbled from force of habit and because no
one else would. His companions understood
this and paid no attention to him, which in-
creased his disgust.
What are we up here for?” he asked,
belligerently. “Why, because them Double
Arrow idiots can't even watch a desert! We
have to do their work for them and they
hangs around home and gets slaughtered!
Yes, sir!” he shouted," they can't even take
care of themselves when they're in line-houses
what are forts. Why, that time we cleaned
out them an' th' C-80 over at Buckskin they
couldn't help runnin' into singin' lead!”
“Yas," drawled Red, whose recollection
of that fight was vivid. “Yas, an' why?"
he asked, and then replied to his own ques-
tion. “Because yu sat up in a barn behind
them, Buck played his gun on th' side win-
dow, Pete an' Skinny lay behind a rock to one
side of Buck, me an' Lanky was across th'
street in front of them, an' Billy an' Johnny
was in th' arroyo on th' other side. Cowan
283


BAR-20
laid on his stummick on th' roof of his place
with a .60 caliber buffalo gun, an' th' whole
blamed town was agin them. There wasn't
five seconds passed that lead wasn't rippin'
through th' walls of their shack. Th' Hous-
ton House wasn't made for no fort, an' be-
sides, they wasn't like th' gang that's punchin'
now. That's why."
Hopalong became cheerful again, for here
was a chance to differ from his friend. The
two loved each other the better the more
they squabbled.
“Yas!” responded Hopalong with sar-
“Yas!” he reiterated, drawling it
out. “Yu was in front of them, an' with
what? Why, an' old, white-haired, interfer-
ing Winchester, that's what! Me an' my
Sharp's
Yu and yore Sharp's!” exploded Red,
whose, dislike for that rifle was very pro-
nounced. “Yu and yore Sharp's-
“Me an' my Sharp’s, as I was palaverin'
before bein' interrupted,” continued Hopa-
long, “ did more damage in five min-
Played helll” snapped Red with heat.
casm.
284


THE SEARCH BEGINS
“ All yu an yore Sharp's could do was to cut
yore initials in th' back door of their shack
an'
“ Did more damage in five minutes,” con-
tinued Hopalong, “than all th' blasted
Winchesters in th' whole damned town.
Why-
An' then they was cut blamed poor.
Every time that cannon of yourn exploded I
shore thought th'"
Why, Cowan an' his buffalo did more
damage (Cowan was reputed to be a very
poor shot) than yu an'-
“I thought th' artillery was comin' into
th' disturbance. I could see yore red
head"
“MY red head!” exclained Hopalong,
sizing up the crimson warlock of his com-
panion. “MY red headl" he repeated, and
then turned to Frenchy: “Hey, Frenchy,
whose got th' reddest hair, me or Red?”
Frenchy slowly turned in his saddle and
gravely scrutinized them. Being strictly im-
partial and truthful, he gave up the chort of
differentiating and smiled. “Why, if th
285


BAR -20
tops of yore heads were poked through two
holes in a board an' I didn't know which was
which, I'd shore make a mistake if I tried to
name 'em.”
Thereupon the discussion was directed at
the judge, and the forenoon passed very pleas-
antly, Frenchy even smiling in his misery.
286


CHAPTER XIX
HOPALONG'S DECISION
SHO
HORTLY after noon, Hopalong, who
had ridden with his head bowed low in
meditation, looked up and slapped his thigh.
Then he looked at Red and grinned.
“Look ahere, Red,” he began, “there
ain't no rustlers with their headquarters on
this God-forsaken sand heap, an' there never
was. They have to have water an' lots of it,
too, an' th' nearest of any account is th'
Pecos, or some of them streams over in th'
Panhandle. Th' Panhandle is th' best place.
There are lots of streams an' lakes over there
an' they're right in a good grass country.
Why, an' army could hide over there an'
never be found unless it was hunted for
blamed good. Then, again, it's close to th'
railroad. Up north aways is th' south branch
of th' Santa Fé Trail an' it's far enough away
not to bother anybody in th' middle Pan-
287


HOPALONG'S DECISION
could tell where they turned with th' wind
raisin' th' devil with th' trail? Didn't we
follow a trail for a ways, an' then what?
Why, there wasn't none to follow. We can
ride north 'till we walk behind ourselves an'
never get a peek at them. I am in favor of
headin' for th' Sulphur Spring Creek district.
We can spend a couple of weeks, if we has to,
an' prospect that whole region without havin'
to cut our water down to a smell an' a taste
an' live on jerked beef. If we investigates
that country we'll find something else than
sand storms, poisoned water holes an'
blisters."
• Ain't th' Panhandle full of nesters
(farmers) ? ” inquired Red, doubtfully.
“Along th' Canadian an' th' edges, yas; in
th' middle, no," explained Hopalong. “They
hang close together on account of th' war-
whoops, an' they like th' trails purty well be-
cause of there allus bein' somebody passin'."
Buck ought to send some of th' Pan-
handle boys up there,” suggested Red.
“There's Pie Willis an' th' Jordans—they
knows th' Panhandle like yu knows poker.”
289


BAR -20
Frenchy had paid no apparent attention
to the conversation up to this point, but now
he declared himself. “Yu heard what Buck
said, didn't yu?” he asked. “We were told
to search th' Staked Plains from one end to
th' other an' I'm goin' to do it if I can hold
out long enough. I ain't goin' to palaver
with yu because what yu say can't be denied
as far as wisdom is concerned. Yu may have
hit it plumb center, but I knows what I was
ordered to do, an' yu can't get me to go over
there if you shouts all night. When Buck
says anything, she goes. He wants to know
where th' cards are stacked an' why he can't
holler · Keno,' an' I'm goin' to find out if I
can. Yu can go to Patagonia if yu wants to,
but yu go alone as far as I am concerned."
“Well, it's better if yu don't go with us,
replied Hopalong, taking it for granted that
Red would accompany him.
pect this end of th' game an' we'll be takin'
care of th' other. It's two chances now where
we only had one afore."
“Yu go east an' I'll hunt around as or-
dered,” responded Frenchy.
“ Yu can pros-
290


HOPALONG'S DECISION
“East nothin'," replied Hopalong. "Yu
don't get me to wallow in hot alkali an' lose
time ridin' in ankle-deep sand when I can
hit th' south trail, skirt th' White Sand Hills
an' be in God's country again. I ain't goin'
to wrastle with no cañon this here trip, none
whatever. I'm goin' to travel in style, get
to Big Spring by ridin' two miles to where I
could only make one on this stove. Then
I'll head north along Sulphur Spring Creek
an' have water an' grass all th'
all th' way, barrin'
a few stretches. While you are bein' fricassed
I'll be streakin' through cottonwood groves
an' ridin' in th' creek."
“Yu'll have to go alone, then,” said Red,
resolutely. “Frenchy ain't a-goin' to die of
lonesomeness on this desert if I knows what
I'm about, an' I reckon I do, some. Me an'
himn'll follow out what Buck said, hunt around
for a while an' then Frenchy can go back to
th' ranch to tell Buck what's up an' I'll take
th' trail yu are a-scared of an' meet yu at th'
east end of Cunningham Lake three days
from now."
"Yu better come with me," coaxed Hopa-
291


HOPALONG’S DECISION
long, not liking what his friend had said
about being afraid of the trail past the cañon
and wishing to have some one with whom to
talk on his trip. “ I'm goin' to have a nice
long swim to-morrow night,” he added, trying
bribery.
“An' I'm goin' to try to keep from hittin'
my blisters,” responded Red. “I don't want
to go swimmin' in no creek full of moccasins
I'd rather sleep with rattlers or copper-
heads. Every time I sees a cotton-mouth I
feels like I had just sit down on one."
" I'll Aip a coin to see whether yu comes
or not,” proposed Hopalong.
* If yu wants to gamble so bad I'll flip
yu to see who draws our pay next month, but
not for what yu said,” responded Red, chok-
ing down the desire to try his luck.
Hopalong grinned and turned toward the
south. “If I sees Buck afore yu do, I'll tell
him yu an' Frenchy are growin' watermelons ·
up near Last Stand Rock an' are waitin' for
rain. Well, so long," he said.
“Yu tell Buck we're obeyin' orders! "
292


BAR - 20
shouted Red, sorry that he was not going
with his bunkie.
Frenchy and Red rode on in silence, the
latter feeling strangely lonesome, for he and
the departed man had seldom been separated
when journeys like this were to be taken. And
when in search of pleasure they were nearly
always together. Frenchy, while being very
friendly with Hopalong, a friendship that
would have placed them side by side against
any odds, was not accustomed to his com-
pany and did not notice his absence.
Red looked off toward the south for the
tenth time and for the tenth time thought
that his friend might return. “He's a son-
of-a-gun," he soliloquized.
His companion looked up: “He shore is,
an' he's right about this rustler business, too.
But we'll look around for a day or so an'
then yu raise dust for th' Lake. I'll
go
back
to th' ranch an' get things primed, so there'll
be no time lost when we get th' word.”
“I'm sorry I went an' said what I did
About me takin' th' trail he was a-scared of,”
293


BAR 20
confessed Red, after a pause.
“Why, he
ain't a-scared of nothin'."
“He got back at yu about them water-
melons, so what's th' difference?” asked
Frenchy. “He don't owe yu nothin'.”
An hour later they searched the Devil's
Rocks, but found no rustlers. Filling their
canteens at a tiny spring and allowing their
mounts to drink the remainder of the water,
they turned toward Hell Arroyo, which they
reached at nightfall. Here, also, their search
availed them nothing and they paused in
indecision. Then Frenchy turned toward his
companion and advised him to ride toward
the Lake in the night when it was compara-
tively cool.
Red considered and then decided that the
advice was good. He rolled a cigarette,
wheeled and faced the east and spurred for-
ward: “So long," he called.
So long,” replied Frenchy, who turned
toward the south and departed for the ranch.
The foreman of the Bar-20 was cleaning
his rifle when he heard the hoof-beats of a
294


BAR -20
the Barred Horseshoe, eighteen in all, came
next and had scarcely dismounted when those
of the C-80 and the Double Arrow, fretting
at the delay, rode up. With the sixteen from
the Bar-20 the force numbered seventy-five
resolute and pugnacious cow-punchers, all
aching to wipe out the indignities suffered.
296


BAR-20
nizing Pie Willis. “What was yu chasin'
so hard?"
Coyote-damn 'em, but can't they go
some? They're gettin' so thick we'll shore
have to try strichnine an' thin 'em out."
“I thought anybody that had been raised
in th' Panhandle would know better'n to
chase greased lightnin'," rebuked Hopalong.
“ Yu has got about as much show catchin'
one of them as a tenderfoot has of bustin'
an outlawed cayuse."
“ Shore; I know it,” responded Pie, grin-
ning “But it's fun seein' them hunt th'
horizon. What are yu doin' down here an'
where are yore pardners ?”
Thereupon Hopalong enlightened his in-
quisitive companion as to what had occurred
and as to his reasons for riding south. Pie
immediately became enthusiastic and an-
nounced his intention of accompanying Hopa-
long on his quest, which intention struck that
gentleman as highly proper and wise. Then
Pie hastily turned and played at chasing
coyotes in the direction of the line-house,
where he announced that his absence would
298


BAR 20
and any one of them would save a day's hard
riding. Hopalong made no objection to
allowing his companion to lead the way over
any trail he saw fit, for he knew that Pie
had been born and brought up in the Pan-
handle, the Cunningham Lake district having
been his back yard, as it were. So they fol-
lowed the short cut having the most water
and grass, and pounded out a lively tattoo
as they raced over the stretches of sand which
seemed to slide beneath them.
“What do yu know about this here busi-
ness ? " inquired Pie, as they raced past a
chaparral and onto the edge of a grassy plain.
Nothin' more'n yu do, only Buck said he
thought Slippery Trendley is at th' bottom
of it."
What!” ejaculated
ejaculated Pie in surprise.
“Him!"
“Yore on. An' between yu an' me an' th'
Devil, I wouldn't be a heap surprised if Dea-
con Rankin is with him, neither."
Pie whistled: "Are him an' th' Deacon
pals ? "
“Shore," replied Hopalong, buttoning up
300


A PROBLEM SOLVED
was
his vest and rolling a cigarette.“ Didn't they
allus hang out together! One watched that
th' other didn't get plugged from behind. It
a sort of yu-scratch-my-back-an’-I'll-
scratch-yourn arrangement."
“ Well, if they still hangs out together, I
know where to hunt for our cows,' responded
Pie. “Th' Deacon used to range along th'
headwaters of th' Colorado-it ain't far
from Cunningham Lake. Thunderation !"
he shouted, “I knows th' very ground they're
on—I can take yu to th' very shack!” Then
to himself he muttered: “An' that doodlebug
Billy Jordan thinkin' he knowed more about
th' Panhandle than me!
Hopalong showed his elation in an appro-
priate manner and his companion drank
deeply from the proffered flask. Thereupon
they treated their mounts to liberal doses of
strap-oil and covered the ground with great
speed.
They camped early, for Hopalong was al-
most worn out from the exertions of the past
few days and the loss of sleep he had sus-
tained. Pie, too excited to sleep and having
301


BAR -20
had unbroken rest for a long period, volun-
teered to keep guard, and his companion
eagerly consented.
Early the next morning they broke camp.
and the evening of the same day found them
fording Sulphur Spring Creek, and their
quarry lay only an hour beyond, according to
Pie. Then they forded one of the streams
which form the headwaters of the Colorado,
and two hours later they dismounted in a
cottonwood grove. Picketing their horses
they carefully made their way through the
timber, which was heavily grown with brush,
and, after half an hour's maneuvering, came
within sight of the further edge. Dropping
down on all fours, they crawled to the last
line of brush and looked out over an exten-
sive bottoms. At their feet lay a small river,
and in a clearing on the farther side was a
rough camp, consisting of about a dozen lean-
to shacks and log cabins in the main collec-
tion, and a few scattered cabins along the
edge. A huge fire was blazing before the
main collection of huts, and to the rear of
302


A PROBLEM SOLVED
these was an indistinct black mass, which they
knew to be the corral.
At a rude table before the fire more than
a score of men were eating supper and others
could be heard moving about and talking at
different points in the background. While
the two scouts were learning the lay of the
land, they saw Mr. Trendley and Deacon
Rankin walk out of the cabin most distant
from the fire, and the latter limped. Then
they saw two men lying on rude cots, and they
wore bandages. Evidently Johnny Redmond
had scored in his fight.
The odor of burning cowhide came from
the corral, accompanied by the squeals of cat-
tle, and informed them that brands were be-
ing blotted out. Hopalong longed to charge
down and do some blotting out of another
kind, but a heavy hand was placed on his
shoulder and he silently wormed his way after
Pie as that person led the way back to the
horses. Mounting, they picked their way out
of the grove and rode over the plain at a
walk. When far enough away to insure thar
303


A PROBLEM SOLVED
daylight took up his journey after a scanty
breakfast from his saddle-bags.
Shortly before noon he came in sight of
the lake and looked for his friend. He had
just ridden around a clump of cottonwoods
when he was hit on the back with something
large and soft. Turning in his saddle, with
his Colt's ready, he saw Red sitting on a
stump, a huge grin extending over his fea-
tures. He replaced the weapon, said some-
thing about fools and dismounted, kicking
aside the bundle of grass his friend had
thrown.
“ Yore shore casy,” remarked Red, toss-
ing aside his cold cigarette. “Suppose I was
Trendley, where would yu be now?"
Diggin' a hole to put yu in,” pleasantly
replied Hopalong. “If I didn't know he
wasn't around this part of the country I
wouldn't a rode as I did."
The man on the stump laughed and rolled
a fresh cigarette. Lighting it, he inquired
where Mr. Trendley was, intimating by his
words that the rustler had not been found.
About thirty miles to th' southeast." re-
".
305


BAR - 20
tler who could cross that zone under the fire
of the besiegers would be welcome to his
drink.
It was very evident that the rustlers had
no thought of defense, thinking, perhaps,
that they were immune from attack with such
a well covered trail between them and their
foes. Hopalong mentally accused them of
harboring suicidal inclinations and returned
with his companion to the horses. They
mounted and sat quietly for a while, and then
rode slowly away and at dawn reached the
split rock, where they awaited the arrival of
their friends, one sleeping while the other kept
guard. Then they drew a rough map of the
camp, using the sand for paper, and laid out
the plan of attack.
As the evening of the next day came on they
saw Pie, followed by many punchers, ride
over a rise a mile to the south and they
rode out to meet him.
When the force arrived at the
camp
of the
two scouts they were shown the plan prepared
for them. Buck made a few changes in the
disposition of the men and then each mem-
308


BAR -20
the carefully arranged coils of a fifty-foot
lariat, and should the chief of the rustlers
escape tripping he would have to avoid the
cast of the best roper in the southwest. The
two others took the northwest corner and one
of them leaned slightly forward and gently
twitched the tripping-rope. The man at the
other end felt the signal and whispered to a
companion, who quietly disappeared in the
direction of the river and shortly afterward
the mournful cry of a whip-poor-will dirged
out on the early morning air. It had hardly
died away when the quiet was broken by one
terrific crash of rifles, and the two camp
guards asleep at the fire awoke in another
world.
Mr. Trendley, sleeping unusually well for
the unjust, leaped from his bed to the middle
of the floor and alighted on his feet and wide
awake. Fearing that a plot was being con-
summated to deprive him of his leadership,
he grasped the Winchester which leaned at
the head of his bed and, tearing open the
door, crashed headlong to the earth. As he
touched the ground, two shadows sped out
312


THE CALL
from the shelter of the cabin wall and pounced
upon him. Men who can rope, throw and tie
a wild steer in thirty seconds flat do not waste
time in trussing operations, and before a min-
ute had elapsed he was being carried into the
woods, bound and helpless. Lanky sighed,
threw the rope over one shoulder and de-
parted after his friends.
When Mr. Trendley came to his senses
he found himself bound to a tree in the grove
near the horses. A man sat on a stump not
far from him, three others were seated around
a small fire some distance to the north, and
four others, one of whom carried a rope, made
their way into the brush. He strained at his
bonds, decided that the effort was useless
and watched the man on the stump, who
struck a match and lit a pipe. The prisoner
watched the light flicker up and go out and
there was left in his mind a picture that he
could never forget. The face which had
been so cruelly, so grotesquely revealed was
that of Frenchy McAllister, and across his
knees lay a heavy caliber Winchester. A
curse escaped from the lips of the outlaw;
313


THE CALL
among the besiegers and the effect was
marked.
Two men sprinted from the edge of the
woods near Mr. Trendley's cabin and gained
the shelter of the storehouse, which soon
broke out in flames. The burning brands fell
over the main collection of huts, where there
was much confusion and swearing. The early
hour at which the attack had been delivered
at first led the besieged to believe that it was
an Indian affair, but this impression was soon
corrected by the volley firing, which turned
hope into despair. It was no great matter
to fight Indians, that they had done many
times and found more or less enjoyment in it;
but there was a vast difference between brave
and puncher, and the chances of their salva-
tion became very small. They surmised that
it was the work of the cow-men on whom they
had preyed and that vengeful punchers lay
hidden behind that death-fringe of green
willow and hazel.
Red, assisted by his inseparable companion,
Hopalong, laboriously climbed up among the
branches of a black walnut and hooked one
315


BAR - 20
leg over a convenient limb. Then he lowered
his rope and drew up the Winchester which
his accommodating friend fastened to it. Set-
tling himself in a comfortable position and
sheltering his body somewhat by the tree, he
shaded his eyes by a hand and peered into the
windows of the distant cabins.
“How is she, Red?” anxiously inquired
the man on the ground.
Bully: want to come up
o ?”
Nope. I'm goin' to catch yu when yu
lets go,” replied Hopalong with a grin.
Which same I ain't goin' to," responded
the man in the tree.
He swung his rifle out over a forked limb
and let it settle in the crotch. Then he
slewed his head around until he gained the
bead he wished. Five minutes passed before
he caught sight of his man and then he fired.
Jerking out the empty shell he smiled and
called out to his friend: “One."
Hopalong grinned and went off to tell
Buck to put all the men in trees.
Night came on and still the firing con-
tinued. Then an explosion shook the woods.
316


THE CALL
The storehouse had blown up and a sky full
of burning timber fell on the cabins and soon
three were half consumed, their occupants
dropping as they gained the open air. One
hundred paces makes fine pot-shooting, as
Deacon Rankin discovered when evacuation
was the choice necessary to avoid cremation.
He never moved after he touched the ground
and Red called out: “Two," not knowing
that his companion had departed.
The morning of the next day found a
wearied and hopeless garrison, and shortly
before noon a soiled white shirt was flung
from a window in the nearest cabin. Buck
ran along the line and ordered the firing to
cease and caused to be raised an answering
flag of truce. A full minute passed and then
the door slowly opened and a leg protruded,
more slowly followed by the rest of the man,
and Cheyenne Charley strode out to the bank
of the river and sat down. His example was
followed by several others and then an unex-
pected event occurred. Those in the cabins
who preferred to die fighting, angered at this
desertion, opened fire on their former com-
317


BAR 20
rades, who barely escaped by rolling down
the slightly inclined bank into the river. Red
fired again and laughed to himself. Then the
fugitives swam down the river and landed
under the guns of the last squad. They were
taken to the rear and, after being bound,
were placed under a guard. There were seven
in the party and they looked worn out.
When the huts were burning the fiercest the
uproar in the corral arose to such a pitch as
to drown all other sounds. There were left
within its walls a few hundred cattle whose
brands had not yet been blotted out, and these,
maddened to frenzy by the shooting and the
flames, tore from one end of the inclosure to
the other, crashing against the alternate walls
with a noise which could be heard far out
on the plain. Scores were trampled to death
on each charge and finally the uproar sub-
sided in sheer want of cattle left with energy
enough to continue. When the corral was
investigated the next day there were found
the bodies of four rustlers, but recognition
was impossible.
Several of the defenders were housed in
318


THE CALL
cabins having windows in the rear walls,
which the occupants considered fortunate.
This opinion was revised, however, after sev-
eral had endeavored to escape by these open-
ings. The first thing that occurred when a
man put his head out was the hum of a bullet,
and in two cases the experimenters lost all
need of escape.
The volley firing had the desired effect, and
at dusk there remained only one cabin from
which came opposition. Such a fire was con-
centrated on it that before an hour had passed
the door fell in and the firing ceased. There
was a rush from the side, and the Barred
Horseshoe men who swarmed through the
cabins emerged without firing a shot. The
organization that had stirred up the Pecos
Valley ranches had ceased to exist.
319


THE SHOWDOWN
the open door. The leader, Hopalong, dis-
appeared within and was followed by Mr.
Trendley, bound and hobbled and tied to Red,
the rear being brought up by Frenchy, whose
rifle lolled easily in the crotch of his elbow.
The singing went on uninterrupted and the
hum of voices between the selections remained
unchanged. Buck left the crowd around the
fire and went into the cabin, where his voice
was heard assenting to something. Hopa-
long emerged and took a seat at the fire, send-
ing two punchers to take his place. He was
joined by Frenchy and Red, the former very
quiet.
In the center of a distant group were seven
men who were not armed. Their belts, half
full of cartridges, supported empty holsters,
They sat and talked to the men around them,
swapping notes and experiences, and in
several instances found former friends and
acquaintances. These men were not bound
and were apparently members of Buck's
force. Then one of them broke down, but
quickly regained his nerve and proposed a
game of cards. A fire was started and several
321


BAR - 20
games were immediately in progress. These
seven men were to die at daybreak.
As the night grew older man after man
rolled himself in his blanket and lay down
where he sat, sinking off to sleep with a swift-
ness that bespoke tired muscles and weari-
ness. All through the night, however, there
were twelve men on guard, of whom three
were in the cabin.
At daybreak a shot from one of the guards
awakened every man within hearing, and soon
they romped and scampered down to the
river's edge to indulge in the luxury of a
morning plunge. After an hour's horseplay
they trooped back to the cabin and soon had
breakfast out of the way.
Waffles, foreman of the O-Bar-O, and You-
bet Somes strolled over to the seven unfor-
tunates who had just completed a choking
breakfast and nodded a hearty “Good morn-
ing." Then others came up and finally all
moved off toward the river. Crossing it,
they disappeared into the grove and all sounds
of their advance grew into silence.
Mr. Trendley, escorted outside for the air,
322


THE SHOWDOWN
saw the procession as it became lost to sight
in the brush. He sneered and asked for a
smoke, which was granted. Then his guards
were changed and the men began to straggle
back from the grove.
Mr. Trendley, with his back to the cabin,
scowled defiantly at the crowd that hemmed
him in. The coolest, most damnable mur-
derer in the West was not now going to beg
for mercy. When he had taken up crime
as a means of livelihood he had decided that
if the price to be paid for his course was
death, he would pay like a man. He glanced
at the cottonwood grove, wherein were many
ghastly secrets, and smiled. His hairless eye-
brows looked like livid scars and his lips
quivered in scorn and anger.
As he sneered at Buck there was a move-
ment in the crowd before him and a pathway
opened for Frenchy, who stepped forward
slowly and deliberately, as if on his way to
some bar for a drink. There was something
different about the man who had searched the
Staked Plain with Hopalong and Red: he
was not the same puncher who had arrived
323


BAR - 20
from Montana three weeks before. There
was lacking a certain air of carelessness and
he chilled his friends, who looked upon him as
if they had never really known him. He
walked up to Mr. Trendley and gazed deeply
into the evil eyes.
Twenty years before, Frenchy McAllister
had changed his identity from a happy-go-
Vlucky, devil-may-care cow-puncher and became
a machine. The grief that had torn his soul
was not of the kind which seeks its outlet in
tears and wailing: it had turned and struck
inward, and now his deliberate ferocity was
icy and devilish. Only a glint in his eyes told
of exultation, and his words were sharp and
incisive; one could well imagine one heard
the click of his teeth as they bit off the conso-
nants: every letter was clear-cut, every sylla-
ble startling in its clearness.
“Twenty years and two months ago
to-day,” he began," you arrived at the ranch-
house of the Double Y, up near the Montana-
Wyoming line. Everything was quiet, except,
perhaps, a woman's voice, singing. You
entered, and before you left you pinned a
324


THE SHOWDOWN
note to that woman's dress. I found it, and
it is due.”
The air of carelessness disappeared from
the members of the crowd and the silence be-
came oppressive. Most of those present knew
parts of Frenchy's story, and all were in
hearty accord with anything he might do. He
reached within his vest and brought forth a
deerskin bag. Opening it, he drew out a
package of oiled silk and from that he took
a paper. Carefully replacing the silk and the
bag, he slowly unfolded the sheet in his hand
and handed it to Buck, whose face hardened.
Two decades had passed since the foreman
of the Bar-20 had seen that precious sheet,
but the scene of its finding would never fade
from his memory. He stood as if carved
from stone, with a look on his face that
made the crowd shift uneasily and glance at
Trendley.
Frenchy turned to the rustler and regarded
him evilly. “You are the hellish brute that
wrote that note," pointing to the paper in the
hand of his friend. Then, turning again, he
spoke: * Buck, read that paper."
325


BAR -20
The foreman cleared his throat and read
distinctly:
“McAllister: Yore wife is to damn good to live.
Trendley."
There was a shuffling sound, but Buck and
Frenchy, silently backed up by Hopalong and
Red, intervened, and the crowd fell back,
where it surged in indecision.
“Gentlemen," said Frenchy, “I want you
to vote on whether any man here has more
right to do with Slippery Trendley as he sees
fit than myself. Any one who thinks so, or
that he should be treated like the others, step
forward. Majority rules.”
There was no advance and he spoke again:
" Is there any one here who objects to this
man dying?"
Hopalong and Red awkwardly bumped
their knuckles against their guns and there
was no response.
The prisoner was bound with cowhide to
the wall of the cabin and four men sat near
and facing him. The noonday meal was
eaten in silence, and the punchers rode off
326


THE SHOWDOWN
to see about rounding up the cattle that
grazed over the plain as far as eye could see.
Supper-time came and passed, and busy men
rode away in all directions. Others came and
relieved the guards, and at midnight another
squad took up the vigil.
Day broke and the thunder of hoofs as
the punchers rounded up the cattle in herds
of about five thousand each became very
noticeable. One herd swept past toward the
south, guarded and guided by fifteen men.
Two hours later and another followed, taking
a slightly different trail so as to avoid the
closc-cropped grass left by the first. At
irregular intervals during the day other herds
swept by, until six had passed and denuded
the plain of cattle.
Buck, perspiring and dusty, accompanied
by Hopalong and Red, rode up to where the
guards smoked and joked. Frenchy came out
of the cabin and smiled at his friends. Swing-
ing in his left hand was a newly filled Colt's
.45, which was recognized by his friends as
the one found in the cabin and it bore a rough
“T” gouged in the butt.
327


BAR – 20
66
)
Buck looked around and cleared his throat:
We've got th' cows on th' home trail,
Frenchy," he suggested.
Yas?" inquired Frenchy.
" Are there
many?"
Six drives of about five thousand to th'
drive."
“ All th' boys gone?" asked the man with
the newly filled Colt's.
Yas,” replied Buck, waving his hand at
the guards, ordering them to follow their
friends. “It's a good deal for us: we've done
right smart this hand. An' it's a good thing
we've got so many punchers: thirty thousand's
a big contract.”
“About five times th' size of th' herd that
blamed near made angels out'en me an' yu,"
responded Frenchy with a smile.
I hope almighty hard that we don't have
no stampedes on this here drive. Thirty thou-
sand locoed cattle would just about wipe up
this here territory. If th' last herds go wild
they'll pick up th' others, an' then there'll
be th’ devil to pay.”
Frenchy smiled again and shot a glance at
328


THE SHOWDOWN
where Mr. Trendley was bound to the cabin
wall.
Buck looked steadily southward for some
time and then flecked a foam-sud from the
flank of his horse. “We are goin' south
along th' Creek until we gets to Big Spring,
where we'll turn right smart to th' west. We
won't be able to make more'n twelve miles
a day, 'though I'm goin' to drive them hard.
How's yore grub?"
“Grub to burn."
“Got yore rope ?” asked the foreman of
the Bar-20, speaking as if the question had
no especial meaning.
Frenchy smiled: “Yes.”
Hopalong absent-mindedly jabbed his
spurs into his mount with the result that when
the storm had subsided the spell was broken
and he said " So long,” and rode south, fol-
lowed by Buck and Red. As they swept out
of sight behind a grove Red turned in his
saddle and waved his hat. Buck discussed
with assiduity the prospects of a rainfall and
was very cheerful about the recovery of the
stolen cattle. Red could see a tall, broad-
329


BAR 20
shouldered man standing with his feet spread
far apart, swinging a Colt's .45, and Hopa-
long swore at everything under the sun. Dust
arose in streaming clouds far to the south and
they spurred forward to overtake the outfits.
Buck Peters, riding over the starlit plain,
in his desire to reach the first herd, which slept
somewhere to the west of him under the care
of Waffles, thought of the events of the past
few weeks and gradually became lost in the
memories of twenty years before, which
crowded up before his mind like the notes
of a half-forgotten song. His nature, tem-
pered by two decades of a harsh existence,
softened as he lived again the years that had
passed and as he thought of the things which
had been. He was so completely lost in his
reverie that he failed to hear the muffled hoof-
beats of a horse that steadily gained upon
him, and when Frenchy McAllister placed
a friendly hand on his shoulder he started
as if from a deep sleep.
The two looked at each other and their
hands met. The question which sprang into
330


CHAPTER XXIII
MR. CASSIDY MEETS A WOMAN
THE
THE work of separating the cattle into
herds of the different brands was a big
contract, but with so many men it took but
a comparatively short time, and in two weeks
all signs of the rustlers had faded. It was
then that good news went the rounds and the
men looked forward to a week of pleasure,
which was all the sharper accentuated by the
grim mercilessness of the expedition into the
Panhandle. Here was a chance for unlimited
hilarity and a whole week in which to give
strict attention to celebrating the recent vic-
tory.
So one day Mr. Hopalong Cassidy rode
rapidly over the plain, thinking about the joys
and excitement promised by the carnival to
be held at Muddy Wells. With that rivalry
so common to Western towns the inhabitants
maintained that the carnival was to break all
332


CASSIDY MEETS A WOMAN
records, this because it was to be held in their
town. Perry's Bend and Buckskin had each
promoted a similar affair, and if this year's
festivities were to be an improvement on those
which had gone before, they would most cer-
tainly be worth riding miles to see. Perry's
Bend had been unfortunate in being the first
to hold a carnival, inasmuch as it only set a
mark to be improved upon, and Buckskin had
taken advantage of this and had added a brass
band, and now in turn was to be eclipsed.
The events slated were numerous and
varied, the most important being those which
dealt directly with the everyday occupations
of the inhabitants of that section of the coun-
try. Broncho busting, steer-roping and tying,
rifle and revolver shooting, trick riding and
fancy roping made up the main features of the
programme and were to be set off by horse
and foot racing and other county fair neces-
sities. Buckskin's brass band was to be on
hand and the climax was to be capped by a
scientific exhibition between two real roped-
arena stars. Therefore Muddy Wells rubbed
its hands and smiled in condescending egotism
333


CASSIDY MEETS A WOMAN
first place” for the honor of his ranch. These
expectations were backed with all the avail-
able Bar-20 money, and, if they were not real-
ized, something in the nature of a calamity
would swoop down upon and wrap that ranch
in gloom. Since the O-Bar-O was aggres-
sively optimistic the betting was at even
money, hats and guns, and the losers would
begin life anew so far as earthly possessions
were concerned. No other competitors were
considered in this event, as Skinny and Lefty
had so far outclassed all others that the honor
was believed to lie between these two.
Hopalong, blissfully figuring out the
chances of the different contestants, galloped
around a clump of mesquite only fifteen miles
from Muddy Wells and stiffened in his sad-
dle, for twenty rods ahead of him on the
trail was a woman. As she heard him ap-
proach she turned and waited for him to over-
take her, and when she smiled he raised his
sombrero and bowed.
“Will you please tell me where I am ? "
she asked.
335


BAR - 20
“Yu are fifteen miles southeast of Muddy
Wells,” he replied.
“But which is southeast ?
Right behind yu," he answered. “Th'
town lies right ahead."
“ Are you going there?" she asked.
“Yes, ma'am.'
“ Then you will not care if I ride with
you ? ” she asked. “I am a trifle frightened.”
“Why, I'd be some pleased if yu do,
'though there ain't nothing out here to be
afraid of now."
“I had no intention of getting lost," she
assured him, “but I dismounted to pick flow-
ers and cactus leaves and after a while I had
no conception of where I was."
“How is it yu are out here?” he asked.
“Yu shouldn't get so far from town.”
Why, papa is an invalid and doesn't like
to leave his room, and the town is so dull,
although the carnival is waking it up some-
what. Having nothing to do I procured a
horse and determined to explore the country.
Why, this is like Stanley and Livingstone,
isn't it? You rescued the explorer!" and she
336


CASSIDY MEETS A WOMAN
laughed heartily. He wondered who in
thunder Stanley and Livingstone were, but
said nothing
“I like the West, it is so big and free,"
she continued. “ But it is very monotonous
at times, especially when compared with New
York. Papa swears dreadfully at the hotel
and declares that the food will drive him in-
sane, but I notice that he eats much more
heartily than he did when in the city. And
the service !-it is awful. But when one
leaves the town behind it is splendid, and I
can appreciate it because I had such a hard
season in the city last winter—so many balls,
parties and theaters that I simply wore my-
self out."
“I never hankered much for them things,"
Hopalong replied. “And I don't like th'
towns much, either. Once or twice a year I
gets as far as Kansas City, but I soon tires
of it an' hits th' back trail. Yu see, I don't
like a fence country—I wants lots of room
an' air."
She regarded him intently: "I know that
you will think me very forward."
337


BAR -20
He smiled and slowly replied: “I think
Vyu are all O. K.”
'There do not appear to be many women
in this country,” she suggested.
No, there ain't many,” he replied, think-
ing of the kind to be found in all of the cow-
towns. 'They don't seem to hanker for this
kind of life-they wants parties an' lots of
dancin' an' them kind of things. I reckon
there ain't a whole lot to tempt 'em to come.
You evidently regard women as being
very frivolous,” she replied.
Well, I'm speakin' from there not being
any out here," he responded, " although I
don't know much about them, to tell th' truth.
Them what are out here can't be counted.”
Then he fushed and looked away.
She ignored the remark and placed her
hand to her hair: Goodness! My hair
must look terrible!"
He turned and looked: “ Yore hair is
pretty—I allus did like brown hair.''
She laughed and put back the straggling
locks: “ It is terrible! Just look at it! Isn't
it awful?"
1)
338


BAR 20
plied, “only it's a valuable tree out here. Th'
Apaches use it a whole lot of ways. They
get honey from th' blossoms an' glue an' gum,
an' they use th' bark for tannin' hide. Th'
dried pods an' leaves are used to feed their
cattle, an' th' wood makes corrals to keep 'em
in. They use th' wood for making other
things, too, an' it is of two colors. Th' sap
makes a dye what won't wash out, an' th'
beans make a bread what won't sour or get
hard. Then it makes a barrier that shore is
a dandy—coyotes an' men can't get through
it, an' it protects a whole lot of birds an'
things. Th' snakes hate it like poison, for th'
thorns get under their scales an' whoops
things up for 'em. It keeps th' sand from
shiftin', too. Down South where there is
plenty of water, it often grows forty feet
high, but up here it squats close to th' ground
so it can save th' moisture. In th' night th'
temperature sometimes falls thirty degrees,
an' that helps it, too."
“How can it live without water?" she
asked.
“It gets all th' water it wants,” he replied,
340


CASSIDY MEETS A WOMAN
smiling. “Th' tap roots go straight down
'til they find it, sometimes fifty feet. That's
why it don't shrivel up in th' sun. Then there
are a lot of little roots right under it an' they
protects th' tap roots. Th' shade it gives is
th' coolest out here, for th' leaves turn with
th' wind an' lets th' breeze through-they're
hung on little stems."
"How splendid!” she exclaimed. “Oh!
Look there!” she cried, pointing ahead of
them. A chaparral cock strutted from its de-
capitated enemy, a rattlesnake, and disap-
peared in the chaparral.
Hopalong laughed: “Mr. Scissors bill
Read-runner has great fun with snakes. He
runs along th' sand-an' he can run, too_
an' sees a snake takin' a siesta. Snip! goes
his bill an' th' snake slides over th' Divide.
Our fighting friend may stop some coyote's
appetite before morning, though, unless he
stays where he is."
Just then a gray wolf blundered in sight
a few rods ahead of them, and Hopalong
fired instantly. His companion shrunk from
him and looked at him reproachfully.
341


BAR - 20
Why did you do that!” she demanded.
Why, because they costs us big money
every year,” he replied. “There's a bounty
on them because they pull down calves, an'
sometimes full grown cows.
I'm shore won-
derin' why he got so close—they're usually
just out of range, where they stays.”
“ Promise me that you will shoot no more
while I am with you.”
Why, shore: I didn't think yu'd care,”
he replied. “Yu are like that sky-pilot over
to Las Cruces—he preached agin killin'
things, which is all right for him, who didn't
have no cows."
“Do you go to the missions?" she asked.
He replied that he did, sometimes, but for-
got to add that it was usually for the purpose
of hilarity, for he regarded sky-pilots with
humorous toleration.
"Tell me all about yourself—what you
do
for enjoyment and all about your work,” she
requested.
He explained in minute detail the art of
punching cows, and told her more of the West
in half an hour than she could have learned
342


CASSIDY MEETS A WOMAN
from a year's experience. She showed such
keen interest in his words that it was a pleas-
ure to talk to her, and he monopolized the
conversation until the town intruded its
sprawling collection of unpainted shacks and
adobe huts in their field of vision.
343


..
CHAPTER XXIV
THE STRATEGY OF MR. PETERS
HOP
OPALONG and his companion rode
into Muddy Wells at noon, and Red
Connors, who leaned with Buck Peters
against the side of Tom Lee's saloon, gasped
his astonishment. Buck looked twice to be
sure,
and then muttered incredulously:
What th' h-1!” Red repeated the phrase
and retreated within the saloon, while Buck
stood his ground, having had much experience
with women, inasmuch as he had narrowly
escaped marrying. He thought that he might
as well get all the information possible, and
waited for an introduction. It was in vain,
however, for the two rode past without notic-
ing him.
Buck watched them turn the corner and
then called for Red to come out, but that per-
son, fearing an ordeal, made no reply and
the foreman went in after him. The timorous
344


BAR-20
an' get
over his bar. There's nothing th' matter with
his eyesight, but he's plumb locoed, all th'
same. He'll
go
stuck on her an' then
she'll hit th' trail for home an' mamma, an'
he won't be worth his feed for a year.” Then
he paused in consternation: “Thunder, Red:
he's got to shoot to-morrow! ”
"Well, suppose he has ? ” responded Red.
“I don't reckon she'll stampede his gun-play
none."
“Yu don't reckon, eh?” queried Buck
with much irony. “No, an' that's what's th’
matter with yu. Why, do yu expect to see
him to-morrow? Yu won't if I knows him
an' I reckon I do. Nope, he'll be follerin'
her all around."
“He's got sand to burn," remarked Red in
“Wonder how he got to know her?”
“Yu can gamble she did th' introducing
part—he ain't got th' nerve to do it himself.
He saved her life, or she thinks he did, or
some romantic nonsense like that.
better go around an' get him away, an' keep
him away, too.'
Who, me?" inquired Red in indignation.
awe.
So yu
346


THE STRATEGY OF PETERS
19
Two hours later Billy walked up to his
foreman and weakly asked what was wanted.
He looked as though he had just been released
from a six-months' stay in a hospital.
“Yu go over to th' hotel an' find Hopa-
long," said the foreman sternly. “Stay with
him all th' time, for there is a plot on foot
to wing him on th’sly. If yu ain't mighty
spry he'll be dead by night.”
Having delivered the above instructions
and prevarications, Buck throttled the laugh
which threatened to injure him and scowled
at Red, who again fed into the saloon for
fear of spoiling it all with revealed mirth.
The convalescent stared in open-mouthed
astonishment:
“What's he doin' in th' hotel, an' who's
goin' to plug him?" he asked.
“Yu leave that to me," replied Buck.
“ All
yu has to do is to get on th' job with
yore gun,” handing the weapon to him, “an'
freeze to him like a flea on a cow. Mebby
there'll be a woman in th' game, but that ain't
none of yore funeral-yu do what I said.” ✓
“D-n th' women!” exploded Billy, mov-
349


BAR -20
ing off. When he had entered the hotel Buck
went in to Red.
For God's sake!” moaned that person
in senseless reiteration. 'Th' Lord help
Billy! Holy Mackinaw!” he shouted. .
Gimme a drink an' let me tell th' boys.”
The members of the outfit were told of the
plot and they gave their uproarious sanction,
all needing bracers to sustain them.
Billy found the clerk swapping lies with
the bartender and, procuring the desired in-
formation, climbed the stairs and hunted for
room No. 6. Discovering it, he dispensed
with formality, pushed open the door and
entered.
He found his friend engaged in conversa-
tion with a pretty young woman, and on a
couch at the far side of the room lay an
elderly, white-whiskered gentleman who was
reading a magazine. Billy felt like a criminal
for a few seconds and then there came to him
the thought that his was a mission of great
import and he braced himself to face any
ordeal. “Anyway," he thought, “th' pret-
tier they are th' more h- they can raise."
13
350


BAR 20
“Lord!” ejaculated the newcomer, star-
ing at the vision of female loveliness which so
suddenly greeted him. “Mamma," he added
under his breath. Then he tore off his som-
✓brero:" Come out of this, Billy, yu chump!”
he exploded, backing toward the door, being
followed by the protector.
Hopalong slammed the door and turned
to his hostess, apologizing for the disturbance.
“Who are they?" palpitated Miss Deane.
What the h-1 are they doing up here!"
blazed her father.
Hopalong disclaimed any knowledge of
them and just then Billy opened the door and
looked in.
“There he is again ! " cried Miss Deane,
and her father gasped.
Hopalong ran out into the hall and nar-
rowly missed kicking Billy into Kingdom
Come as that person slid down the stairs, sur-
prised and indignant.
Mr. Billy Williams, who sat at the top of
the stairs, was feeling hungry and thirsty
when he saw his friend, Mr. Pete Wilson,
the slow witted, approaching.
352


THE STRATEGY OF PETERS
you will shoot to-morrow, for I will see that
you do, and I will bring luck to the Bar-20.
Be sure to call for me at one o'clock: I will
be ready.”
He hesitated, bowed, and slowly departed,
making his way to Tom Lee's, where his en-
trance hushed the hilarity which had reigned.
Striding to where Buck stood, he placed his
hands on his hips and searched the foreman's
eyes.
Buck smiled: “Yu ain't mad, are yu?” he
asked.
Hopalong relaxed: “No, but d-n
near it."
Red and the others grabbed him from the
rear, and when he had been “buffaloed” into
good humor he threw them from him, laughed
and waved his hand toward the bar:
“Come up, yu sons-of-guns. Yore a d-d
nuisance sometimes, but yore a bully gang all
th' same."
355


CHAPTER XXV
MR. EWALT DRAWS CARDS
TEX
EX EWALT, cow-puncher, prospector,
sometimes a rustler, but always a dude,
rode from El Paso in deep disgust at his
steady losses at faro and monte. The pecuni-
ary side of these caused him no worry, for he
was Aush. This pleasing opulence was due
to his business ability, for he had recently
sold a claim for several thousand dollars.
The first operation was simple, being known
in Western phraseology as “jumping "; and
the second, somewhat more complicated, was
known as salting.”
The first of the money spent went for a
complete new outfit, and he had parted with
just three hundred and seventy dollars to feed
his vanity. He desired something contrasty
and he procured it. His sombrero, of gray
felt a quarter of an inch thick, flaunted a band
of black leather, on which was conspicuously
356


MR. EWALT DRAWS CARDS
displayed a solid silver buckle. His neck was
protected by a crimson kerchief of the finest,
heaviest silk. His shirt, in pattern the same
as those commonly worn in the cow country,
was of buckskin, soft as a baby's cheek and
impervious to water, and the Angora goat-
skin chaps, with the long silken hair worn
outside, were as white as snow. Around his
waist ran loosely a broad, black leather belt
supporting a heavy black holster, in which
lay its walnut-handled burden, a .44 caliber
Remington six-shooter; and fifty center-fire
cartridges peeked from their loops, twenty-
five on a side. His boots, the soles thin and
narrow and the heels high, were black and of
the finest leather. Huge spurs, having two-
inch rowels, were held in place by buckskin
straps, on which, also, were silver buckles.
Protecting his hands were heavy buckskin
gloves, also waterproof, having wide, black
gauntlets.
Each dainty hock of his dainty eight-hun-
c'red-pound buckskin pony was black, and a
black star graced its forehead. Well
groomed, with flowing mane and tail, and
357


BAR – 20
with the brand on its flank being almost im-
perceptible, the animal was far different in
appearance from most of the cow-ponies.
Vicious and high-spirited, it cavorted just
enough to show its lines to the best advantage.
The saddle, a famous Cheyenne and forty
pounds in weight, was black, richly embossed,
and decorated with bits of beaten silver which
Aashed back the sunlight. At the pommel
hung a thirty-foot coil of braided horsehair
rope, and at the rear was a Sharp's .50-caliber,
breech-loading rifle, its owner having small
use for any other make. The color of the
bridle was the same as the saddle and it sup-
ported a heavy U bit which was capable of a
leverage sufficient to break the animal's jaw.
Tex was proud of his outfit, but his face
wore a frown—not there only on account of
his losses, but also by reason of his mission,
for under all his finery beat a heart as black
as any in the cow country. For months he
had smothered hot hatred and he was now
on his way to ease himself of it.
He and Slim Travennes had once ex-
changed shots with Hopalong in Santa Fé,
358


MR. .
EWALT DRAWS CARDS
and the month which he had spent in bed was
not pleasing, and from that encounter had
sprung the hatred. That he had been in the
wrong made no difference with him. Some
months later he had learned of the death of
Slim, and it was due to the same man. That
Slim had again been in the wrong also made
no difference, for he realized the fact and
nothing else. Lately he had been told of the
death of Slippery Trendley and Deacon Ran-
kin, and he accepted their passing as a per-
sonal affront. That they had been caught red-
handed in cattle stealing of huge proportions
and received only what was customary under
the conditions formed no excuse in his mind
for their passing. He was now on his way to
attend the carnival at Muddy Wells, knowing
that his enemy would be sure to be there.
While passing through Las Cruces he met
Porous Johnson and Silent Somes, who were
thirsty and who proclaimed that fact, where-
upon
he relieved them of their torment and,
looking forward to more treatment of a simi-
lar nature, they gladly accompanied him with-
out asking why or where.
359


BAR -20
As they left the town in their rear Tex
turned in his saddle and surveyed them with
a cynical smile.
“Have yu heard anything of Trendley ?”
he asked.
They shook their heads.
“ Him an' th' Deacon was killed over in
th' Panhandle," he said.
“What!” chorused the pair.
Jack Dorman, Shorty Danvers, Charley
Teale, Stiffhat Bailey, Billy Jackson, Terry
Nolan an' Sailor Carson was lynched.”
“What!” they shouted.
“Fish O'Brien, Pinochle Schmidt, Tom
Wilkins, Apache Gordon, Charley of th'
Bar Y, Penobscot Hughes an' about twenty
others died fightin'."
Porous looked his astonishment: “ Cay-
alry?"
“ An' I'm going after th' who did it,”
he continued, ignoring the question. Arc
yu with me?-yu used to pal with some of
them, didn't yu ? "
"We did , an' we're shore with yul” cried
Porous.
360


BAR - 20
Tex repeated the story as he had heard it
from a bibulous member of the Barred Horse-
shoe, and then added a little of torture as a
sauce to whet their appetites for revenge.
“How did Trendley cash in?" asked
Porous.
Nobody knows except that bum from th'
Tin-Cup. I'll get him later. I'd a got Cas-
sidy up in Santa Fé, too, if it wasn't for th'
sun in my eyes. Me an' Slim loosened up
on him in th' Plaza, but we couldn't see noth-
ing with him a-standin' against th' sun."
Where's Slim now?” asked Porous. “I
ain't seen him for some time."
Slim's with Trendley,” replied Tex.
'Cassidy handed him over to St. Pete at
Cactus Springs. Him an' Connors sicked
their outfit on him an' his vigilantes, bein'
helped some by th' O-Bar-O. They wiped
th' town plumb off th' earth, an' now I'm
going to do some wipin' of my own account.
I'll prune that gang of some of its blossoms
afore long. It's cost me seventeen friends
so far, an' I'm going to stop th' leak, or make
another."
362


BAR 20
in the doorway and quarreled as to what each
should drink and, compromising, lurched in
and seated themselves on a table and resumed
their vocal perpetrations.
Tex swaggered over to the bar and tossed
va quarter upon it: “ Corn juice," he laconic-
ally exclaimed. Tossing off the liquor and
glancing at his howling friends, he shrugged
his shoulders and strode out by the rear door,
slamming it after him. Porous and Silent,
recounting friends who had “cashed in " fell
to weeping and they were thus occupied when
Hopalong and Buck entered, closely followed
by the rest of the outfit.
Buck walked to the bar and was followed
by Hopalong, who declined his foreman's
offer to treat. Tom Lee set a bottle at Buck's
elbow and placed his hands against the bar.
“Friend of yourn just hit th' back trail,"
he remarked to Hopalong. “He was primed
some for trouble, too,” he added.
“Yaas ?" drawled Hopalong with little in-
terest.
The proprietor restacked the few glasses
and wiped off the bar.
✓
364


MR. EWALT DRAWS CARDS
“Them's his pardners," he said, indicating
the pair on the table.
Hopalong turned his head and gravely
scrutinized them. Porous was bemoaning the
death of Slim Travennes and Hopalong
frowned.
Don't reckon he's no relation of mine,"
he grunted.
“Well, he ain't yore sister," replied Tom
Lee, grinning
What's his brand?" asked the puncher.
“I reckon he's a maverick, 'though yu put
yore brand on him up to Santa Fé a couple
of years back. Since he's throwed back on
yore range I reckon he's yourn if yu wants
him."
“I reckon Tex is some sore," remarked
Hopalong, rolling a cigarette.
“I reckon he is,” replied the proprietor,
tossing Buck's quarter in the cash box. “But,
say, you should oughter see his rig."
Yaas?”
“He's shore a cow-punch dude—my, butv
he's some sumptious and highfalutin'. An'
bad? Why, he reckons th' Lord never brewed
365


BAR 20
a more high-toned brand of cussedness than
his'n. He shore reckons he's th' baddest man
that ever simmered."
“How'd he look as th' leadin' man in a
vnecktie festival?” blazed Johnny from across
the room, feeling called upon to help with
the conversation.
“ He'd be a howlin' success, son,” replied
Skinny Thompson, “judgin' by his friends
what we elevated over in th' Panhandle."
Lanky Smith leaned forward with his elbow
on the table, resting his chin in the palm of
his hand: “Is Ewalt still a-layin' for yu,
Hopalong?” he asked.
Hopalong turned wearily and tossed his
half-consumed cigarette into the box of sand
which did duty as a cuspidore: “I reckon so;
an' he shore can hatch whenever he gets good
an' ready, too."
“He's probably a-broodin' over past griev-
ances," offered Johnny, as he suddenly pushed
Lanky's elbow from the table, nearly causing
a catastrophe.
“ Yu'll be broodin' over present grievances
if yu don't look out, yu everlastin' nuisance
366


MR. EWALT DRAWS CARDS
yu," growled Lanky, planting his elbow in
its former position with an emphasis which
conveyed a warning.
“ These bantams ruffle my feathers," re-
marked Red. “They go around braggin'
about th' egg they're goin' to lay an' do
enough cacklin' to furnish music for a dozen.
Then when th' affair comes off yu'll generally
find they's been settin' on a door-knob.”
"Did yu ever see a hen leave th' walks of
peace an' bugs an' rustle hell-bent across th'
trail plumb in front of a cayuse?” asked
Buck. “They'll leave off rustlin' grub an'
become candidates for th' graveyard just for
cussedness. Well, a whole lot of men are th'
same way. How many times have I seen them
swagger into a gin shop an' try to run things
sudden an' hard, and that with half a dozen
better men in th' same room? There's shore
a-plenty of trouble a-comin' to every man
without rustlin' around for more."
''Member that time yu an' Frenchy tried
to run th' little town of Frozen Nose, up in
Montana ? ” asked Johnny, winking at the
rest.
367


BAR - 20
with her and she left word here that she was
indisposed, which means that you are out-
lawed."
“Who is he?” asked Hopalong, having
his suspicions.
“That friend of yours: Ewalt. He sported
va wad this morning when she passed him, and
she let him make her acquaintance. He's
another easy mark. He'll be busted wide
open to-night."
“I reckon I'll see Tex,” suggested Hopa-
long, starting for the stairs.
Come back, you chump!” cried the clerk.
“I don't want any shooting here. What do
you care about it? Let her have him, for it's
an easy way out of it for you. Let him think
he's cut you out, for he'll spend all the more
freely. Get your crowd and enlighten them
-it'll be better than a circus. This may
sound like a steer, but it's straight.”
Hopalong thought for a minute and then
leaned on the cigar case:
“I reckon I'll take about a dozen of yore
very best cigars, Charley. Got any real high-
toned brands?"
370


MR. EWALT DRAWS CARDS
“Cortez panatella-two for a simoleon,"
Charley replied. “But, seein' that it's you,
I'll throw off a dollar on a dozen. They're
a fool notion of the old man, for we can't
sell one in a month."
Hopalong dug up a handful and threw one
on the counter, lighting another: “Yu light
a Cortez panatella with me," he said, pocket-
ing the remainder. “That's five simoleons
she didn't get. So long."
He journeyed to Tom Lee's and found his
outfit making merry. Passing around his
cigars he leaned against the bar and delighted
in the first really good smoke he had since he
came home from Kansas City.
Johnny Nelson blew a cloud of smoke at
the ceiling and paused with a pleased expres-
sion on his face:
“This is a lalapoloosa of a cigar," he cried. v
“Where'd yu get it, an' how many's left?"
“I got it from Charley, an' there's more
than yu can buy at fifty a shot."
"Well, I'll just take a few for luck,"
Johnny responded, running out into the street.
Returning in five minutes with both hands
371


BAR 20
" What
"
full of cigars he passed them around and
vgrinned:“ They're birds, all right!'
Hopalong smiled, turned to Buck and re-
lated his conversation with Charley.
do
yu
think of that?” he asked as he finished.
"I think Charley oughter be yore guar-
dian," replied the foreman.
“He was," replied Hopalong.
“If we sees Tex we'll all grin hard,"
laughed Red, making for the door. Come
on to th' contests—Lanky's gone already."
Muddy Wells streamed to the carnival
grounds and relieved itself of its enthusiasm
and money at the booths on the way. Cow-
punchers rubbed elbows with Indians and
Mexicans, and the few tourists that were
present were delighted with the picturesque
scene. The town was full of fakirs and be-
fore one of them stood a group of cow-
punchers, apparently drinking in the words
of a barker.
“Right this way, gents, and see the woman
who don't eat. Lived for two years without
food, gents. Right this way, gents. Only
372


MR. EWALT DRAWS CARDS
a quarter of a dollar. Get your tickets, gents,
and see-"
Red pushed forward:
“What did yu say, Pard?” he asked. ~
“I'm a little off in my near ear.
What's
that about eatin' a woman for two years ? ”
“The greatest wonder of the age, gents.
The wom
Any discount for th' gang?" asked Buck,
gawking.
“Why don't yu quit smokin' an' buy th’
lady a meal? ” asked Johnny from the center
of the group
“Th' cane yu ring th' cane yu get!” came
from the other side of the street and Hopa-
long purchased rings for the outfit. Twenty-
four rings got one cane, and it was divided
between them as they wended their way to-
ward the grounds.
“That makes six wheels she didn't get,"
murmured Hopalong.
As they passed the snake charmer's booth
they saw Tex and his companion ahead of
them in the crowd, and they grinned broadly.
373


BAR - 20
“ I like th' front row in th' balcony," re-
marked Johnny, who had been to Kansas
City. Don't
cry
in th' second act-it ain't
real,” laughed Red. “We'll hang John
Brown on a sour apple-tree—in th' Pan-
handle,” sang Skinny as they passed them.
Arriving at the grounds they hunted
up
the
registration committee and entered in the con-
tests. As Hopalong signed for the revolver
competition he was rudely pushed aside and
Tex wrote his name under that of his enemy.
Hopalong was about to show quick resent-
ment for the insult, but thought of what Char-
ley had said, and he grinned sympathetically.
The seats were filling rapidly, and the outfit
went along the ground looking for friends.
A bugle sounded and a hush swept over the
crowd as the announcement was made for the
first event.
“ Broncho-busting.-Red Devil, never rid-
den: Frenchy McAllister, Tin-Cup, Mon-
tana; Meteor, killed his man: Skinny Thomp-
son, Bar-20, Texas; Vixen, never ridden:
Lefty Allen, O-Bar-O, Texas."
All eyes were focused on the plain where
374


BAR - 20
Skinny returned to his friends shame-
facedly and did not look as if he had just won
a championship. They made way for him,
and Johnny, who could not restrain his enthu-
siasm, clapped him on the back and ried:
“ Yu old son-of-a-gun!”
The announcer again came forward and
gave out the competitors for the next contest,
steer-roping and tying. Lanky Smith arose
and, coiling his rope carefully, disappeared
into the crowd. The fun was not so great in
this, but when he returned to his outfit with
the phenomenal time of six minutes and eight
seconds for his string of ten steers, with
twenty-two seconds for one of them, they
gave him vociferous greeting. Three of his
steers had gotten up after he had leaped from
his saddle to tie them, but his horse had taken
care of that. His nearest rival was one min-
ute over him and Lanky retained the cham-
pionship
Red Connors shot with such accuracy in
the rifle contest as to run his points twenty
per cent higher than Waffles, of the O-Bar-O,
and won the new rifle.
376


BAR-20
sible hundred, he felt that he had shot well.
When Hopalong went to the line his friends
knew that they would now see shooting such
as would be almost unbelievable, that the best
draw-and-shoot marksman in their State was
the man who limped slightly as he advanced
and who chewed reflectively on his fifty-cent
cigar. He wore two guns and he stepped
with confidence before the marshal of the
town, who was also judge of the contest.
The tiny spherical bell which lay on the
ground was small enough for the use of a
rifle and could hardly be seen from the rear
seats of the amphitheater. There was a word
spoken by the timekeeper, and a gloved hand
flashed down and up, and the bell danced and
spun and leaped and rolled as shot after shot
followed it with a precision and speed which
brought the audience to a heavy sik e. Tak-
ing the gun which Buck tossed t him and
throwing it into the empty holster, : awaited
the signal, and then smoke poure from his
hips and the bell clanged continuously, once
while it was in the air. Both guns emptied
378


MR. EWALT DRAWS CARDS
in the two-hand shooting, he wheeled and
jerked loose the guns which the marshal wore,
spinning around without a pause, the target
hardly ceasing in its ringing. Under his arms
he shot, backward and between his legs; leap-
ing from side to side, ducking and dodging,
following the bell wherever it went. Reload-
ing his weapons quickly he twirled them on
his fingers and enveloped himself in smoke
out of which came vivid flashes as the bell
gave notice that he shot well. His friends,
and there were many in the crowd, torn from
their affected nonchalance by shooting the
like of which they had not attributed even to
him, roared and shouted and danced in a
frenzy of delight. Red also threw his guns
to Hopalong, who caught them in the air and
turning, faced Tex, who stood white of face
and completely lost in the forgetfulness of
admiration and amazement. The guns spun
again on his fingers and a button flew from
the buckskin shirt of his enemy; another tore
a flower from his breast and another drove it
into the ground at his feet as others stirred
379


MR. EWALT DRAWS CARDS
boasted. Now he understood why he had lost
so many friends: they had attempted what
he had sworn to attempt. Look where he
would he could see only a smoke-wrapped
demon who moved and shot with a speed in-
credible. There was reason why Slim had
died. There was reason why Porous and
Silent had paled when they learned of their
mission. He hated his conspicuous clothes
and his pretty broncho, and the woman who
had gotten him to squander his money, and
who was doubtless convulsed with laughter
at his expense. He worked himself into a
passion which knew no fear and he ran for the
streets of the town, there to make good his
boast or to die. When he found his enemy
he felt himself grasped with a grip of steel
and Buck Peters swung him around and
grinned maliciously in his face:
“Yu plaything!” hoarsely whispered the
foreman. “Why don't yu get away while
yu can? Why do yu want to throw yoreself
against certain death? I don't want my pleas-
ure marred by a murder, an' that is what it
will be if yu makes a gun-play at Hopalong.
38.1


BAR - 20
He'll shoot yu as he did yore buttons. Take
yore pretty clothes an' yore pretty cayuse an'
go where this is not known, an' if ever again
yu feels like killing Hopalong, get drunk an'
forget it.”
THE END
382



Hopalong takes command
(See page 24)
Frontispiece


注
​



“Calmly blew several heavy smoke rings around the
frowning barrel”
.بر .1- غراس
!





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13 1984