CHAPTER XXIV. The Strategy of Mr. Peters
Hopalong and his companion rode into Muddy Wells at noon, and RedConnors, who leaned with Buck Peters against the side of Tom Lee'ssaloon, gasped his astonishment. Buck looked twice to be sure, and thenmuttered incredulously: "What th' heck!" Red repeated the phrase andretreated within the saloon, while Buck stood his ground, havinghad much experience with women, inasmuch as he had narrowly escapedmarrying. He thought that he might as well get all the informationpossible, and waited for an introduction. It was in vain, however, forthe two rode past without noticing him.
Buck watched them turn the corner and then called for Red to come out,but that person, fearing an ordeal, made no reply and the foreman wentin after him. The timorous one was corraling bracers at the bar andnearly swallowed down the wrong channel when Buck placed a heavy hand onhis broad shoulder.
"G'way!" remarked Red. "I don't want no introduction, none whatever," heasserted. "G'way!" he repeated, backing off suspiciously.
"Better wait 'til yu are asked," suggested Buck. "Better wait 'til yusees th' rope afore yu duck." Then he laughed: "Yu bashful fellers makeme plumb disgusted. Why, I've seen yu face a bunch of guns an never turna hair, an' here yore all in because yu fear yu'll have to standaround an' hide yore hands. She won't bite yu. Anyway, from what I saw,Hopalong is due to be her grub--he never saw me at all, th' chump."
"He shore didn't see me, none," replied Red with distinct relief. "Arethey gone?"
"Shore," answered Buck. "An' if they wasn't they wouldn't see us, notif we stood in front of them an' yelled. She's a hummer-stands two handsunder him an' is a whole lot prettier than that picture Cowan has gotover his bar. There's nothing th' matter with his eyesight, but he'splumb locoed, all th' same. He'll go an' get stuck on her an' thenshe'll hit th' trail for home an' mamma, an' he won't be worth his feedfor a year." Then he paused in consternation: "Thunder, Red: he's got toshoot to-morrow!"
"Well, suppose he has?" Responded Red. "I don't reckon she'll stampedehis gun-play none.
"Yu don't reckon, eh?" Queried Buck with much irony. "No, an' that'swhat's th' matter with yu. Why, do yu expect to see him to-morrow? Yuwon't if I knows him an' I reckon I do. Nope, he'll be follerin' her allaround."
"He's got sand to burn," remarked Red in awe. "Wonder how he got to knowher?"
"Yu can gamble she did th' introducing part--he ain't got th' nerve todo it himself. He saved her life, or she thinks he did, or some romanticnonsense like that. So yu better go around an' get him away, an' keephim away, too."
"Who, me?" Inquired Red in indignation. "Me go around an' tote him off?I ain't no wagon: yu go, or send Johnny."
"Johnny would say something real pert an' get knocked into th' middleof next week for it. He won't do, so I reckon yu better go yoreself,"responded Buck, smiling broadly and moving off.
"Hey, yu! Wait a minute!" cried Red in consternation. Buck paused andRed groped for an excuse: "Why don't you send Billy?" He blurted indesperation.
The foreman's smile assumed alarming proportions and he slapped histhigh in joy: "Good boy!" he laughed. "Billy's th' man--good Lord, butwon't he give Cupid cold feet! Rustle around an' send th' pessimisticsoul to me."
Red, grinning and happy, rapidly visited door after door, shouted, "Hey,Billy!" and proceeded to the next one. He was getting pugnacious athis lack of success when he espied Mr. Billy Williams tacking along theaccidental street as if he owned it. Mr. Williams was executing fancysteps and was trying to sing many songs at once.
Red stopped and grabbed his bibulous friend as that person veered tostarboard: "Yore a peach of a life-preserver, yu are!" he exclaimed.
Billy balanced himself, swayed back and forth and frowned hisdispleasure at this unwarranted action: "I ain't no wife-deserter!" heshouted. "Unrope me an' give me th' trail! No tenderfoot can ride me!"Then he recognized his friend and grinned joyously: "Shore I will, butonly one. Jus' one more, jus' one more. Yu see, m'friend, it was allJimmy's fault. He--"
Red secured a chancery hold and dragged his wailing and remonstratingfriend to Buck, who frowned with displeasure.
"This yere," said Red in belligerent disgust, "is th' dod-blasted herowhat's a-goin' to save Hopalong from a mournful future. What are wea-goin' to do?"
Buck slipped the Colt's from Billy's holster and yanked the erring oneto his feet: "Fill him full of sweet oil, source him in th' trough, walkhim around for awhile an' see what it does," he ordered.
Two hours later Billy walked up to his foreman and weakly asked what waswanted. 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 Hopalong," said the foreman sternly."Stay with him all th' time, for there is a plot on foot to wing him onth' sly. If yu ain't mighty spry he'll be dead by night."
Having delivered the above instructions and prevarications, Buckthrottled the laugh which threatened to injure him and scowled at Red,who again fled into the saloon for fear of spoiling it all with revealedmirth.
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 likea flea on a cow. Mebby there'll be a woman in th' game, but that ain'tnone of yore funeral--yu do what I said."
"Blast th' women!" exploded Billy, moving off. When he had entered thehotel Buck went in to Red.
"For Pete's sake!" moaned that person in senseless reiteration. "Th'Lord help Billy! Holy Mackinaw!" he shouted. "Gimme a drink an' let metell th' boys."
The members of the outfit were told of the plot and they gave theiruproarious sanction, all needing bracers to sustain them.
Billy found the clerk swapping lies with the bartender and, procuringthe desired information, climbed the stairs and hunted for room No. 6.Discovering it, he dispensed with formality, pushed open the door andentered.
He found his friend engaged in conversation with a pretty youngwoman, and on a couch at the far side of the room lay an elderlywhite-whiskered gentleman who was reading a magazine. Billy felt like acriminal for a few seconds and then there came to him the thought thathis was a mission of great import and he braced himself to face anyordeal. "Anyway," he thought, "th' prettier they are th' more dust theycan raise."
"What are yu doing here?" Cried Hopalong in amazement.
"That's all right," averred the protector, confidentially.
"What's all right?"
"Why, everything," replied Billy, feeling uncomfortable.
The elderly man hastily sat up and dropped his magazine when he sawthe armed intruder, his eyes as wide open as his mouth. He felt forhis spectacles, but did not need them, for he could see nothing but theColt's which Billy jabbed at him.
"None of that!" snapped Billy. "'ands up!" he ordered, and the hands wentup so quick that when they stopped the jerk shook the room. Peering overthe gentleman's leg, Billy saw the spectacles and backed to the wallas he apologized: "It's shore on me, Stranger--I reckoned yu wascontemplatin' some gun-play."
Hopalong, blazing with wrath, arose and shoved Billy toward the hail,when Mr. Johnny Nelson, oozing fight and importance, intruded his personinto the zone of action.
"Lord!" ejaculated the newcomer, staring at the vision of femaleloveliness which so suddenly greeted him. "Mamma," he added under hisbreath. Then he tore off his sombrero: "Come out of this, Billy, yuchump!" he exploded, backing toward the door, being followed by theprotector.
Hopalong slammed the door and turned to his hostess, apologizing for thedisturbance.
"Who are they?" Palpitated Miss Deane.
"What the deuce are they doing up here!" blazed her father. Hopalongdisclaimed any knowledge of them and just then Billy opened the door andlooked in.
"There he is again!" cried Miss Deane, and her father gasped. Hopalongran out into the hall and narrowly missed kicking Bi
lly into KingdomCome as that person slid down the stairs, surprised and indignant.
Mr. Billy Williams, who sat at the top of the stairs, was feeling hungryand thirsty when he saw his friend, Mr. Pete Wilson, the slow witted,approaching.
"Hey, Pete," he called, "come up here an' watch this door while Irustles some grub. Keep yore eyes open," he cautioned.
As Pete began to feel restless the door opened and a dignified gentlemanwith white whiskers came out into the hall and then retreated with greathaste and no dignity. Pete got the drop on the door and waited. Hopalongyanked it open and kissed the muzzle of the weapon before he could stop,and Pete grinned.
"Coming to th' fight?" He loudly asked. "It's going to be a shore 'noughsumptious scrap--just th' kind yu allus like. Come on, th' boys arewaitin' for yu."
"Keep quiet!" hissed Hopalong.
"What for?" Asked Pete in surprise. "Didn't yu say yu shore wanted tosee that scrap?"
"Shut yore face an' get scarce, or yu'll go home in cans!"
As Hopalong seated himself once more Red strolled up to the door andknocked. Hopalong ripped it open and Red, looking as fierce and worriedas he could, asked Hopalong if he was all right. Upon being assured bysmoking adjectives that he was, the caller looked relieved and turnedthoughtfully away.
"Hey, yu! Come here!" called Hopalong.
Red waved his hand and said that he had to meet a man and clattereddown the stairs. Hopalong thought that he, also, had to meet a man and,excusing himself, hastened after his friend and overtook him in theStreet, where he forced a confession. Returning to his hostess he toldher of the whole outrage, and she was angry at first, but seeing thehumorous side of it, she became convulsed with laughter. Her fatherre-read his paragraph for the thirteenth time and then, slamming themagazine on the floor, asked how many times he was expected to read tenlines before he knew what was in them, and went down to the bar.
Miss Deane regarded her companion with laughing eyes and then becamesuddenly sober as he came toward her.
"Go to your foreman and tell him that you will shoot to-morrow, for Iwill see that you do, and I will bring luck to the Bar-20. Be sure tocall 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 entrance hushed the hilarity which had reigned. Stridingto where Buck stood, he placed his hands on his hips and searched theforeman's eyes.
Buck smiled: "Yu ain't mad, are yu?" He asked.
Hopalong relaxed: "No, but blame 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 wavedhis hand toward the bar:
"Come up, yu sons-of-guns. Yore a cussed nuisance sometimes, but yore abully gang all th' same."
CHAPTER XXV. Mr. Ewalt Draws Cards
Tex Ewalt, cow-puncher, prospector, sometimes a rustler, but always adude, rode from El Paso in deep disgust at his steady losses at faroand monte. The pecuniary side of these caused him no worry, for he wasflush. This pleasing opulence was due to his business ability, forhe had recently sold a claim for several thousand dollars. The firstoperation 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 hadparted with just three hundred and seventy dollars to feed his vanity.He desired something contrasty and he procured it. His sombrero, of grayfelt a quarter of an inch thick, flaunted a band of black leather, onwhich was conspicuously displayed a solid silver buckle. His neck wasprotected by a crimson kerchief of the finest, heaviest silk. His shirt,in pattern the same as those commonly worn in the cow country, was ofbuckskin, soft as a baby's cheek and impervious to water, and the Angoragoatskin chaps, with the long silken hair worn outside, were as whiteas snow. Around his waist ran loosely a broad, black leather beltsupporting a heavy black holster, in which lay its walnut-handledburden, a .44 caliber six-shooter; and thirty center-fire cartridgespeeked from their loops, fifteen on a side. His boots, the soles thinand narrow and the heels high, were black and of the finest leather.Huge spurs, having two-inch rowels, were held in place by buckskinstraps, on which, also, were silver buckles. Protecting his hands wereheavy buckskin gloves, also waterproof, having wide, black gauntlets.
Each dainty hock of his dainty eight-hundred-pound buckskin pony wasblack, and a black star graced its forehead. Well groomed, withflowing mane and tail, and with the brand on its flank being almostimperceptible, the animal was far different in appearance from most ofthe cow-ponies. Vicious and high-spirited, it cavorted just enough toshow 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 flashedback the sunlight. At the pommel hung a thirty-foot coil of braidedhorsehair rope, and at the rear was a Sharp's .50-caliber, breech-loadingrifle, its owner having small use for any other make. The color of thebridle was the same as the saddle and it supported a heavy U bit whichwas 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 onacount of his losses, but also by reason of his mission, for under allhis finery beat a heart as black as any in the cow country. For monthshe had smothered hot hatred and he was now on his way to ease himself ofit.
He and Slim Travennes had once exchanged shots with Hopalong in SantaFe, and the month which he had spent in bed was not pleasing, and fromthat encounter had sprung the hatred. That he had been in the wrong madeno difference with him. Some months later he had learned of the deathof Slim, and it was due to the same man. That Slim had again been inthe wrong also made no difference, for he realized the fact and nothingelse.
Lately he had been told of the death of Slippery Trendley and DeaconRankin, and he accepted their passing as a personal affront. That theyhad been caught red-handed in cattle stealing of huge proportions andreceived only what was customary under the conditions formed no excusein his mind for their passing. He was now on his way to attend thecarnival at Muddy Wells, knowing that his enemy would be sure to bethere.
While passing through Las Cruces he met Porous Johnson and Silent Somes,who were thirsty and who proclaimed that fact, whereupon he relievedthem of their torment and, looking forward to more treatment of asimilar nature, they gladly accompanied him without asking why or where.
As they left the town in their rear Tex turned in his saddle andsurveyed 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, BillyJackson, Terry Nolan an' Sailor Carson was lynched."
"What!" they shouted.
"Fish O'Brien, Pinochle Schmidt, Tom Wilkins, Apache Gordon, Charley ofth' Bar Y, Penobscot Hughes an' about twenty others died fightin'."
Porous looked his astonishment: "Cavalry?"
"An' I'm going after th' dogs who did it," he continued, ignoring thequestion. "Are yu with me?--Yu used to pal with some of them, didn'tyu?"
"We did, an' we're shore with yu!" cried Porous.
"Yore right," endorsed Silent. "But who done it?"
"That gang what's punchin' for th' Bar-20-Hopalong Cassidy is th' oneI'm pining for. Yu fellers can take care of Peters an' Connors."
The two stiffened and exchanged glances of uncertainty and apprehension.The outfit of the Bar-20 was too well known to cause exuberant joy tospring from the idea of war with it, and well in the center of all thetales concerning it were the persons Tex had named. To deliberatelyset forth with the avowed intention of planting these was not at allcalculated to induce sweet dreams.
Tex sneered his contempt.
"Yore shore uneasy: yu ain't a-scared, are yu?" He drawled. Porousrelaxed an
d made a show of subduing his horse: "I reckon I ain't scaredplumb to death. Yu can deal me a hand," he asserted.
"I'll draw cards too," hastily announced Silent, buttoning his vest."Tell us about that jamboree over in th' Panhandle."
Tex repeated the story as he had heard it from a bibulous member of theBarred Horseshoe, and then added a little of torture as a sauce to whettheir 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'da got Cassidy up in Santa Fe, 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 nothingwith 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' townplumb off th' earth, an' now I'm going to do some wipin' of my ownaccount. I'll prune that gang of some of its blossoms afore long. It'scost me seventeen friends so far, an' I'm going to stop th' leak, ormake another."
They entered Muddy Wells at sunrise on the day of the carnival and,eating a hearty breakfast, sallied forth to do their share toward makingthe festivities a success.
The first step considered necessary for the acquirement of case andpolish was begun at the nearest bar, and Tex, being the host, was soliberal that his friends had reached a most auspicious state when theyfollowed him to Tom Lee's.
Tex was too wise to lose his head through drink and had taken onlyenough to make him careless of consequences. Porous was determined tosing "Annie Laurie," although he hung on the last word of the firstline until out of breath and then began anew. Silent, not wishing to beoutdone, bawled at the top of his lungs a medley of music-hall words tothe air of a hymn.
Tex, walking as awkwardly as any cow-puncher, approached Tom Lee's, histwo friends trailing erratically, arm in arm, in his rear. Swinging hisarm he struck the door a resounding blow and entered, hand on gun, as itcrashed back. Porous and Silent stood in the doorway and quarreled asto what each should drink and, compromising, lurched in and seatedthemselves on a table and resumed their vocal perpetrations.
Tex swaggered over to the bar and tossed a quarter upon it: "Cornjuice," he laconically exclaimed. Tossing off the liquor and glancingat his howling friends, he shrugged his shoulders and strode out by therear door, slamming it after him. Porous and Silent, recounting friendswho had "cashed in" fell to weeping and they were thus occupied whenHopalong and Buck entered, closely followed by the rest of the outfit.
Buck walked to the bar and was followed by Hopalong, who declined hisforeman's offer to treat. Tom Lee set a bottle at Buck's elbow andplaced his hands against the bar.
"Friend of yourn just hit the back trail," he remarked to Hopalong. "Hewas primed some for trouble, too," he added.
"Yaas?" Drawled Hopalong with little interest.
The proprietor restacked the few glasses and wiped off the bar. "Them'shis pardners," he said, indicating the pair on the table.
Hopalong turned his head and gravely scrutinized them. Porous wasbemoaning 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 SantaFe a couple of years back. Since he's throwed back on yore range Ireckon 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 thecash box. "But, say, you should oughter see his rig."
"Yaas?"
"He's shore a cow-punch dude--my, but he's some sumptious an'highfalutin'. An' bad? Why, he reckons th' Lord never brewed a morehigh-toned brand of cussedness than his'n. He shore reckons he's thebaddest man that ever simmered."
"How'd he look as th' leadin' man in a necktie festival?" Blazed Johnnyfrom across the room, feeling called upon to help the conversation.
"He'd be a howlin' success, son," replied Skinny Thompson, "judgin' byhis friends what we elevated over in th' Panhandle."
Lanky Smith leaned forward with his elbow on the table, resting his chinin the palm of his hand: "Is Ewalt still a-layin' for yu, Hopalong?" Heasked.
Hopalong turned wearily and tossed his half-consumed cigarette into thebox of sand which did duty as a cuspidore: "I reckon so; an' he shorecan hatch whenever he gets good an ready, too."
"He's probably a-broodin' over past grievances," offered Johnny, ashe suddenly pushed Lanky's elbow from the table, nearly causing acatastrophe.
"Yu'll be broodin' over present grievances if yu don't look out, yueverlastin' nuisance yu," growled Lanky, planting his elbow in itsformer position with an emphasis which conveyed a warning.
"These bantams ruflle my feathers," remarked Red. "They go aroundbraggin' 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'llgenerally find they's been settin' on a door-knob."
"Did yu ever see a hen leave th' walks of peace an' bugs an' rustlehell-bent across th' trail plumb in front of a cayuse?" Asked Buck."They'll leave off rustlin' grub an' become candidates for th' graveyardjust for cussedness. Well, a whole lot of men are th' same way. How manytimes have I seen them swagger into a gin shop an' try to run thingssudden an' hard, an' 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 FrozenNose, up in Montana?" Asked Johnny, winking at the rest.
"An' we did run it, for a while," responded Buck. "But that only goes toshow that most young men are chumps--we were just about yore age then."
Red laughed at the youngster's discomfiture: "That little squib of yournshore touched her off--I reckon we irrigates on yu this time, don't we?"
"Th' more th' Kid talks, th' more money he needs," remarked Lanky,placing his glass on the bar. "He had to blow me an' Skinny twice lastnight."
"I got two more after yu left," added Skinny "He shore oughter practicekeeping still."
At one o'clock sharp Hopalong walked up to the clerk of the hotel andgrinned. The clerk looked up:
"Hullo, Cassidy?" He exclaimed, genially. "What was all that fussabout this mornin' when I was away? I haven't seen you for a long time,have I? How are you?"
"That fuss was a fool joke of Buck's, an' I wish they had been throwedout," Hopalong replied. "What I want to know is if Miss Deane is in herroom. Yu see, I have a date with her."
The clerk grinned:
"So she's roped you, too, has she?"
"What do yu mean?" Asked Hopalong in surprise. "Well, well," laughed theclerk. "You punchers are easy. Any third-rate actress that looks good toeat can rope you fellows, all right. Now look here, Laura, you keep shyof her corral, or you'll be broke so quick you won't believe you everhad a cent: that's straight. This is the third year that she's been hereand I know what I'm talking about. How did you come to meet her?"
Hopalong explained the meeting and his friend laughed again:
"Why, she knows this country like a book. She can't get lost anywherearound here. But she's blame clever at catching punchers."
"Well, I reckon I'd better take her, go broke or not," replied Hopalong."Is she in her room?"
"She is, but she is not alone," responded the clerk. "There is adude puncher up there with her and she left word here that she wasindisposed, which means that you are outlawed."
"Who is he?" Asked Hopalong, having his suspicions. "That friend ofyours: Ewalt. He sported a wad this morning when she passed him, and shelet him make her acquaintance. He's another easy mark. He'll be bustedwide open to-night."
"I
reckon I'll see Tex," suggested Hopalong, starting for the stairs.
"Come back, you chump!" cried the clerk. "I don't want any shootinghere. What do you care about it? Let her have him, for it's an easy wayout of it for you. Let him think he's cut you out, for he'll spend allthe more freely. Get your crowd and enlighten them--it'll be better thana 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. Gotany real high-toned brands?"
"Cortez panatella--two for a simoleon," Chancy replied. "But, seein' thatit's you, I'll throw off a dollar on a dozen. They're a fool notion ofthe old man, for we can't sell one in a month."
Hopalong dug up a handful and threw one on the counter, lightinganother: "Yu light a Cortez panatella with me," he said, pocketing theremainder. "That's five simoleons she didn't get. So long."
He journeyed to Tom Lee's and found his outfit making merry. Passingaround his cigars he leaned against the bar and delighted in the firstreally good smoke he had since he came home from Kansas City.
Johnny Nelson blew a cloud of smoke at the ceiling and paused with apleased expression on his face:
"This is a lalapoloosa of a cigar," he cried. "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 ashot."
"Well, I'll just take a few for luck," Johnny responded, running outinto the street. Returning in five minutes with both hands full ofcigars he passed them around and grinned: "They're birds, all right!"
Hopalong smiled, turned to Buck and related his conversation withChancy. "What do yu think of that?" He asked as he finished.
"I think Charley oughter be yore guardian," 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 ofits enthusiasm and money at the booths on the way. Cow-punchers rubbedelbows with Indians and Mexicans, and the few tourists that were presentwere delighted with the picturesque scene. The town was full of fakirsand before one of them stood a group of cow-punchers, apparentlydrinking in the words of a barker.
"Right this way, gents, and see the woman who don't eat. Lived for twoyears without food, gents. Right this way, gents. Only a quarter of adollar. 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 fromthe center of the group.
"Th' cane yu ring th' cane yu get!" came from the other side of thestreet and Hopalong purchased rings for the outfit. Twenty-four ringsgot one cane, and it was divided between them as they wended their waytoward the grounds.
"That makes six wheels she didn't get," murmured Hopalong. As theypassed the snake charmer's booth they saw Tex and his companion aheadof them in the crowd, and they grinned broadly. "I like th' front row inth' balcony," remarked Johnny, who had been to Kansas City. "Don't cryin th' second act--it ain't real," laughed Red. "We'll hang John Brown ona sour appletree--in th' Panhandle," sang Skinny as they passed them.
Arriving at the grounds they hunted up the registration committee andentered in the contests. As Hopalong signed for the revolver competitionhe was rudely pushed aside and Tex wrote his name under that of hisenemy. Hopalong was about to show quick resentment for the insult, butthought of what Charley had said, and he grinned sympathetically. Theseats were filling rapidly, and the outfit went along the ground lookingfor friends. A bugle sounded and a hush swept over the crowd as theannouncement was made for the first event.
"Broncho-busting-Red Devil, never ridden: Frenchy McAllister, Tin-Cup,Montana; Meteor, killed his man: Skinny Thompson, Bar-20, Texas; Vixen,never ridden: Lefty Allen, O-Bar-O, Texas."
All eyes were focused on the plain where the horse was being led outfor the first trial. After the usual preliminaries had been gone throughFrenchy walked over to it, vaulted in the saddle and the bandage wastorn from the animal's eyes. For ten minutes the onlookers were heldspellbound by the fight before them, and then the horse kicked andgalloped away and Frenchy was picked up and carried from the field.
"Too bad!" cried Buck, running from the outfit.
"Did yu see it?" asked Johnny excitedly, "Th' cinch busted." Anotherhorse was led out and Skinny Thompson vaulted to the saddle, and aftera fight of half an hour rode the animal from the enclosure to theclamorous shouts of his friends. Lefty Allen also rode his mount fromthe same gate, but took ten minutes more in which to do it.
The announcer conferred with the timekeepers and then stepped forward:"First, Skinny Thompson, Bar-20, thirty minutes and ten seconds; second,Lefty Allen, O-Bar-O, forty minutes and seven seconds."
Skinny returned to his friends shamefacedly and did not look as if hehad just won a championship. They made way for him, and Johnny, whocould not restrain his enthusiasm pounded him on the back and cried: "Yuold son-of-a-gun!"
The announcer again came forward and gave out the competitors for thenext contest, steer-roping and tying. Lanky Smith arose and, coiling hisrope carefully, disappeared into the crowd. The fun was not so great inthis, but when he returned to his outfit with the phenomenal time of sixminutes and eight seconds for his string of ten steers, with twenty-twoseconds for one of them, they gave him vociferous greeting. Three of hissteers 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 minuteover him and Lanky retained the championship.
Red Connors shot with such accuracy in the rifle contest as to run hispoints twenty per cent higher than Waffles, of the O-Bar-O, and won thenew rifle.
The main interest centered in the revolver contest, for it was knownthat the present champion was to defend his title against an enemy andfears were expressed in the crowd that there would be an "accident."Buck Peters and Red stood just behind the firing line with their handson hips, and Tex, seeing the precautions, smiled grimly as he advancedto the line.
Six bottles, with their necks an inch above a board, stood twenty pacesfrom him, and he broke them all in as many shots, taking twelve secondsin which to do it. Hopalong followed him and tied the score. Three tinballs rolling erratically in a blanket supported by two men weresent flying into the air in four shots, Tex taking six seconds. Hiscompetitor sent them from the blanket in three shots and in the sametime. In slow shooting from sights Tex passed his rival in points andstood to win. There was but one more event to be contested and in itHopalong found his joy.
Shooting from the hip when the draw is timed is not the sport of evengood shots, and when Tex made sixty points out of a possible hundred, hefelt that he had shot well. When Hopalong went to the line hisfriends knew that they would now see shooting such as would be almostunbelievable, that the best draw-and-shoot marksman in their State wasthe man who limped slightly as he advanced and who chewed reflectivelyon his fifty-cent cigar. He wore two guns and he stepped with confidencebefore the marshal of the town, who was also judge of the contest.
The iron ball which lay on the ground was small enough for the use of arifle and could hardly be seen from the rear seats of the amphitheater.There was a word spoken by the timekeeper, and a gloved hand flasheddown and up, and the ball danced and spun and leaped and rolled as shotafter shot followed it with a precision and speed which brought theaudience to a heavy silence. Taking the gun which Buck tossed to himand throwing it into the empty holster, he awaited the signal, and thensmoke poured from his hips and the ball jumped continuously. Both gunsemptied in the two-hand shooting, he wheeled and jerked loose the gunswhich the ma
rshal wore, spinning around without a pause, the targethardly ceasing in its rolling. Under his arms he shot, backward andbetween his legs; leaping from side to side, ducking and dodging,following the ball wherever it went. Reloading the weapons quickly,he stepped forward and followed the ball until once more his gunswere empty. Then he turned and walked back to the side of the marshal,smiling a little. His friends, and there were many in the crowd, tornfrom their affected nonchalance by shooting the like of which they hadnot attributed even to him, roared and shouted and danced in a frenzy ofdelight.
Red also threw his guns to Hopalong, who caught them in the air andturning, faced Tex, who stood white of face and completely lost in theforgetfulness of admiration and amazement. The guns jerked again and abutton flew from the buckskin shirt of his enemy; another tore a flowerfrom his breast and another drove it into the ground at his feet asothers stirred his hair and cut the buckle off his pretty sombrero. Tex,dazed, but wise enough to stand quiet, felt his belt tear loose and dropto his feet, felt a spur rip from its strap and saw his cigarette leapfrom his lips. Throwing the guns to Red, Hopalong laughed and abruptlyturned and was lost in the crowd.
For several seconds there was silence, but when the dazed minds realizedwhat their eyes had seen, there arose a roar which shook the houses inthe town. Roar after roar thundered forth and was sent crashing backagain by the distant walls, sweeping down on the discomfited dude andcausing him to slink into the crowd to find a place less conspicuous. Hewas white yet and keen fear gripped his heart as he realized that he hadcome to the carnival with the expressed purpose of killing his enemy infair combat. The whole town knew it, for he had taken pains to spreadthe news.
The woman he had been with knew it from words which she had overheardwhile on her way to the grounds with him. His friends knew it and wouldlaugh him into forgetfulness as the fool who boasted. Now he understoodwhy he had lost so many friends: they had attempted what he had sworn toattempt. Look where he would he could see only a smoke-wrapped demon whomoved and shot with a speed incredible. There was reason why Slim haddied. There was reason why Porous and Silent had paled when they learnedof their mission.
He hated his conspicuous clothes and his pretty broncho, and thewoman who had gotten him to squander his money, and who was doubtlessconvulsed with laughter at his expense. He worked himself into a passionwhich knew no fear and he ran for the streets of the town, there tomake good his boast or to die. When he found his enemy he felt himselfgrasped with a grip of steel and Buck Peters swung him around andgrinned maliciously in his face:
"You plaything!" hoarsely whispered the foreman. "Why don't yu get awaywhile yu can? Why do yu want to throw yoreself against certain death? Idon't want my pleasure marred by a murder, an' that is what it willbe if yu makes a gun-play at Hopalong. He'll shoot yu as he did yorebuttons. Take yore pretty clothes an' yore pretty cayuse an' go wherethis is not known, an' if ever again yu feels like killing Hopalong, getdrunk an' forget it."
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