by Rex Beach
CHAPTER XI. Holding the Claim
"Oh, we're that gang from th' O-Bar-O," hummed Waffles, sinking thebranding-iron in the flank of a calf. The scene was one of greatactivity and hilarity. Several fires were burning near the huge corraland in them half a dozen irons were getting hot. Three calves were beingheld down for the brand of the "Bar-20" and two more were being draggedup on their sides by the ropes of the cowboys, the proud cow-poniesshowing off their accomplishments at the expense of the calves'feelings. In the corral the dust arose in steady clouds as calf aftercalf was "cut out" by the ropers and dragged out to get "tagged." Angrycows fought valiantly for their terrorized offspring, but always to noavail, for the hated rope of some perspiring and dust-grimed rider sentthem crashing to earth. Over the plain were herds of cattle and groupsof madly riding cowboys, and two cook wagons were stalled a shortdistance 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 individualstrove for a prize. The man who cut out and dragged to the fire the mostcalves in three days could leave for the Black Hills at the expirationof that time, the rest to follow 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 buthalf an hour more in which to compete. As Red disappeared into the seaof tossing horns Hopalong dashed out with a whoop.
"Hi, yu trellis-built rack of bones, come along there! Whoop!" heyelled, turning the prisoner over to the squad by the fire.
"Chalk up this here insignificant wart of cross-eyed perversity: an' howmany?" He called as he galloped back to the corral.
"One ninety-eight," announced Buck, blowing the sand from the tallysheet. "That's shore goin' some," he remarked to himself.
When the calf sprang up it was filled with terror, rage and pain, andcharged at Billy from the rear as that pessimistic soul was leaning overand poking his finger at a somber horned-toad. "Wow!" he yelled as hisfeet took huge steps up in the air, each one strictly on its own course."Woof!" he grunted in the hot sand as he arose on his hands and kneesand spat alkali.
"What's s'matter?" He asked dazedly of Johnny Nelson. "Ain't it funny!"he yelled sarcastically as he beheld Johnny holding his sides withlaughter. "Ain't it funny!" he repeated belligerently. "Of course thatfour-laigged, knock-kneed, wobblin' son-of-a-Piute had to cut me out.They wasn't nobody in sight but Billy! Why didn't yu say he was comin'?Think I can see four ways to once? Why didn't--" At this point Redcantered up with a calf, and by a quick maneuver, drew the taut ropeagainst the rear of Billy's knees, causing that unfortunate to sit downheavily. As he arose choking with broken-winded profanity Red draggedthe animal to the fire, and Billy forgot his grievances in the press oflabor.
"How many, Buck?" Asked Red.
"One-eighty."
"How does she stand?"
"Yore eighteen to th' bad," replied the foreman. "Th' son-of-a-gun!"marveled Red, riding off.
Another whoop interrupted them, and Billy quit watching out of thecorner eye for pugnacious calves as he prepared for Hopalong.
"Hey, Buck, this here cuss was with a Barred-Horseshoe cow," heannounced as he turned it over to the branding man. Buck made a tally ina separate column and released the animal. "Hullo, Red! Workin'?" AskedHopalong of his rival.
"Some, yu little cuss," answered Red with all the good nature in theworld. Hopalong was his particular "side partner," and he could lose tohim with the best of feelings.
"Yu looks so nice an' cool, an' clean, I didn't know," respondedHopalong, eyeing a streak of sweat and dust which ran from Red's eyes tohis chin and then on down his neck.
"What yu been doin'? Plowin' with yore nose?" Returned Red, smilingblandly at his friend's appearance.
"Yah!" snorted Hopalong, wheeling toward the corral. "Come on, yupie-eatin' doodle-bug; I'll beat yu to th' gate!"
The two ponies sent showers of sand all over Billy, who eyed themin pugnacious disgust. "Of all th' locoed imps that ever made lifemiserable fer a man, them's th' worst! Is there any piece of foolnonsense they hain't harnessed me with?" He beseeched of Buck. "Is thereanything 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 waterin. My boots an' toads in my bunk--ain't they never goin' to get sane?"
"Oh, they're only kids--they can't help it," offered Buck. "Didn't theyhobble my cayuse when I was on him an' near bust my neck?"
Hopalong interrupted the conversation by driving up another calf, andBuck, glancing at his watch, declared the contest at an end.
"Yu wins," he remarked to the newcomer. "An' now yu get scarce or Billywill shore straddle yore nerves. He said as how he was goin' to getsquare on yu to-night."
"I didn't, neither, Hoppy!" earnestly contradicted Billy, who badvisions 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," grinned Hopalong, "I'll shore make yu hard to find. Comeon, fellows," he said; "grub's ready. Where's Frenchy?"
"Over chewin' th' rag with Waffles about his hat--he's lost it again,"answered Red. "He needs a guardian fer that bonnet. Th' Kid an'Salvation has jammed it in th' corral fence an' Waffles has to stand ferit."
"Let's put it in th' grub wagon an see him cuss cookie," suggestedHopalong.
"Shore," indorsed Johnny; Cookie'll feed him bum grub for a week to getsquare.
Hopalong and Johnny ambled over to the corral and after some troublelocated the missing sombrero, which they carried to the grub wagon andhid in the flour barrel. Then they went over by the excited owner anddropped a few remarks about how strange the cook was acting and how hewas watching Frenchy.
Frenchy jumped at the bait and tore over to the wagon, where he and thecook spent some time in mutual recrimination. Hopalong nosed around andfinally dug up the hat, white as new-fallen snow.
"Here's a hat--found it in th' dough barrel," he announced, handing itover to Frenchy, who received it in open-mouthed stupefaction.
"Yu pie-makin' pirate! Yu didn't know where my lid was, did yu! Yucross-eyed lump of hypocrisy!" yelled Frenchy, dusting off the flourwith one full-armed swing on the cook's face, driving it into thatunfortunate's nose and eyes and mouth. "Yu white-washed Chink, yu--rubyore face with water an' yu've got pancakes."
"Hey! What you doin'!" yelled the cook, kicking the spot where he hadlast 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 confidentially, "I know who put up thisjoke on yu. Yu ask Billy who hid th' hat," suggested the tease. "Here hecomes now--see how queer he looks."
"Th' mournful Piute," ejaculated the cook. "I'll shore make him wishhe'd kept on his own trail. I'll flavor his slush [coffee] with year-olddish-rags!"
At this juncture Billy ambled up, keeping his weather eye peeled fortrouble. "Who's a dish-rag?" He queried. The cook mumbled somethingabout crazy hens not knowing when to quit cackling and climbed up in hiswagon. And that night Billy swore off drinking coffee.
When the dawn of the next day broke, Hopalong was riding toward theBlack Hills, leaving Billy to untie himself as best he might.
The trip was uneventful and several weeks later he entered Red Dog, arambling shanty town, one of those western mushrooms that sprang up in anight. He took up his stand at the Miner's Rest, and finally securedsix claims at the cost of nine hundred hard-earned dollars, a fundsubscribed by the outfits, as it was to be a partnership affair.
He rode out to a staked-off piece of hillside and surveyed his purchase,which consisted of a patch of ground, six holes, six piles of dirt anda log hut. The holes showed that the claims bad been tried and foundwanting.
He dumped his pack of tools and provisions, which he had bought on theway up, and lugged them into the cabin. After satisfying his curiosityhe went outside and sat down for a smoke, figuring up in his mind howmuch gold he could carry on a horse. Then, as he realized that he couldget a pack mule to carry the surplus, he became aware of a strangepresence 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 smokerings around the frowning barrel.
"Well?" He asked slowly.
"Nice day, stranger," replied the man with the rifle, "but don't yureckon yu've made a mistake?"
Hopalong glanced at the number burned on a near-by stake and carelesslyblew another smoke ring. He was waiting for the gun to waver.
"No, I reckons not," he answered. "Why?"
"Well, I'll jest tell yu since yu asks. This yere claim's mine an' I'ma reg'lar terror, I am. That's why; an' seein' as it is, yu better amblesome."
Hopalong glanced down the street and saw an interested group watchinghim, which only added to his rage for being in such a position. Thenhe started to say something, faltered and stared with horror at a pointseveral feet behind his opponent. The "terror" sprang to one side inresponse to Hop-along's expression, as if fearing that a snake or somesuch danger threatened him. As he alighted in his new position he fellforward and Hopalong slid a smoking Colt in its holster.
Several men left the distant group and ran toward the claim. Hopalongreached his arm inside the door and brought forth his rifle, with whichhe covered their advance.
"Anything yu want?" he shouted savagely.
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 thatwould screen any gun play and he stopped the game with a warning shout.Then the two held up their hands and advanced.
"We wants to git Dan," called out one of them, nodding at the prostratefigure.
"Come ahead," replied Hopalong, substituting a Colt for the rifle.
They carried their badly wounded and insensible burden back to thosewhom they had left, and several curses were hurled at the cowboy, whoonly smiled grimly and entered the hut to place things ready for asiege, should one come. He had one hundred rounds of ammunition andprovisions enough for two weeks, with the assurance of reinforcementslong before that time would expire. He cut several rough loopholes andlaid out his weapons for quick handling. He knew that he could stop anyadvance during the day and planned only for night attacks. How longhe could go without sleep did not bother him, because he gave it nothought, as he was accustomed to short naps and could awaken at will orat the slightest sound.
As dusk merged into dark he crept forth and collected several handfulsof dry twigs, which he scattered around the hut, as the cracking ofthese would warn him of an approach. Then he went in and went to sleep.
He awoke at daylight after a good night's rest, and feasted on cannedbeans and peaches. Then he tossed the cans out of the door and shovedhis hat out. Receiving no response he walked out and surveyed the townat his feet. A sheepish grin spread over his face as he realized thatthere was no danger. Several red-shirted men passed by him on their wayto town, and one, a grizzled veteran of many gold camps, stopped andsauntered up to him.
"Mornin'," said Hopalong.
"Mornin'," replied the stranger. "I thought I'd drop in an' say that Isaw that gun-play of yourn yesterday. Yu ain't got no reason to look fera rush. This camp is half white men an' half bullies, an' th' white menwon't stand fer no play like that. Them fellers that jest passed areneighbors of yourn, an' they won't lay abed if yu needs them. But yuwants to look out fer th' joints in th' town. Guess this business is outof yore line," he finished as he sized Hopalong up.
"She shore is, but I'm here to stay. Got tired of punchin' an' reckonedI'd get 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 sohigh. Got reckless th' other day an' had a egg at fifty cents."
Hopalong whistled and glanced at the empty cans at his feet. "Anymarshal 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 something," invited theminer.
"I'd shore like to, but I can't let no gang get in that door," repliedthe puncher.
"Oh, that's all right; I'll call my pardner down to keep house till yugits back. He can hold her all right. Hey, Jake!" he called to a man whowas some hundred paces distant; "Come down here an' keep house till wegits back, will yu?"
The man lumbered down to them and took possession as Hopalong and hisnewly found friend started for the town.
They entered the "Miner's Rest" and Hopalong fixed the room in his mindwith one swift glance. Three men--and they looked like the crowd he hadstopped before--were playing poker at a table near the window. Hopalongleaned with his back to the bar and talked, with the players always insight.
Soon the door opened and a bewhiskered, heavy-set man tramped in, andwalking up to Hopalong, looked him over.
"Huh," he sneered, "Yu are th' gent with th' festive guns that pluggedDan, ain't yu?"
Hopalong looked at him in the eyes and quietly replied:
"An' who th' deuce are yu?"
The stranger's eyes blazed and his face wrinkled with rage as heaggressively 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 Hopalong's chaps. "Yu cow-wrastlers make me tired, an' I'mgoin' to show yu that this town is too good for you. Yu can say it rightnow that yu are a ornery, game-leg--"
Hopalong smashed his insulter squarely between the eyes with all thepower of his sinewy body behind the blow, knocking him in a heap underthe table. Then he quickly glanced at the card players and saw a hostilemovement. His gun was out in a flash and he covered the trio as hewalked up to them. Never in all his life had he felt such a desire tokill. His eyes were diamond points of accumulated fury, and those whomhe faced quailed before him.
"Yu scum! Draw, please draw! Pull yore guns an' gimme my chance! Threeto one, an' I'll lay my guns here," he said, placing them on the bar andremoving his hands. "'Nearer My God to Thee' is purty appropriate feryu just now! Yu seem to be a-scared of yore own guns. Git down on yoredirty knees an' say good an' loud that yu eats dirt! Shout out thatyu are too currish to live with decent men," he said, even-toned anddistinct, his voice vibrant with passion as he took up his Colts. "Getdown!" he repeated, shoving the weapons forward and pulling back thehammers.
The trio glanced at each other, and all three dropped to their knees andrepeated in 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 kickedthe 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 tothe 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 slammedhim against the bar. Then he tore the cheap badge from its place andthrew it on the floor. Reaching down, he drew the marshal's revolverfrom 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 gain'to pick up that tin lie," pointing at the badge, "an' yore goin' to doit right now. Then yore gain' to get kicked out of that door, an' ifyu stops runnin' while I can see yu I'll fill yu so full of holes yu'llcatch cold. Yore a sumptious marshal, yu are! Yore th' snortingest ki-yithat ever stuck its tail atween its laigs, yu are. Yu pop-eyed wallflower, yu wants to peep to yoreself or some papoose'll slide yu overth' Divide so fast yu won't have time to grease yore pants. Pick up thatlicense-tag an' let me see you perculate so lively that yore back'lllook
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 manbefore him. He slid the weapon in his belt and drew his hand across hisfast-closing eyes. Cursing streaks of profanity, he staggered to thedoor and landed in a heap in the street from the force of Hopalong'skick. Struggling to his feet, he ran unsteadily down the block anddisappeared around a corner.
The bartender, cool and unperturbed, pushed out three glasses on histreat: "I've seen yu afore, up in Cheyenne--'member? How's yore friendRed?" He asked as he filled the glasses with the best the houseafforded.
"Well, shore 'nuff! 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 wartof a town needs siftin' out. It was only last week I was wishin' one ofyore 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 alead mine. But he's got a tough gang circulating with him. Ever hear ofDutch 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' saltedyesterday was a bosom friend of th' marshal's, an' he passed in hischips last night."
"So?"
"Yep. Bought a bottle of ready-made nerve an' went to his own funeral.Aristotle Smith was lookin' fer him up in Cheyenne last year. Aristotlesaid he'd give a century fer five minutes' palaver with him, but heshied th' town an' didn't come back. Yu know Aristotle, don't yu? He'sth' geezer that made fame up to Poison Knob three years ago. He used togo to town ridin' astride a log on th' lumber flume. Made four miles insix minutes with th' promise of a ruction when he stopped. Once whenhe 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' down that valley like he wanted to go somewhere. He swum outat Potter's Dam an' it took him a day to walk back. But he didn't makethat play again, because he was frequently sober, an' when he wasn'the'd only stand off an' swear at th' slide."
"That's Aristotle, all hunk. He's th' chap that used to play checkerswith Deacon Rawlins. They used empty an' loaded shells for men, an' whenthey got a king they'd lay one on its side. Sometimes they'd jar th'board 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's been robbed,an' laid behind th' houses fer a week lookin' fer th' feller that doneit."
"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 jointby th' plaza an' hollered 'Fire,' an' they did. He was shore a goodfeller, all th' same," answered the bartender. Hopalong laughed andstarted for the door. Turning around he looked at his miner friend andasked: "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, slipping out of the door andwatching for trouble. There was no opposition shown him, and he arrivedat his claim to find Jake in a heated argument with another of the gang.
"Here he comes now," he said as Hopalong walked up. "Tell him what yusaid to me."
"I said yu made a mistake," said the other, turning to the cowboy in ahalf apologetic manner.
"An' what else?" Insisted Jake.
"Why, ain't that all?" Asked the claim-jumper's friend in feignedsurprise, wishing that he had kept quiet.
"Well I reckons it is if yu can't back up yore words," responded Jake inopen contempt.
Hopalong grabbed the intruder by the collar of his shirt and hauled himoff the claim. "Yu keep off this, understand? I just kicked yore marshalout in th' street, an' I'll pay yu th' next call. If yu rambles in rangeof my guns yu'll shore get in th' way of a slug. Yu an' yore gang wantsto browse on th' far side of th' range or yu'll miss a sunrise somemornin'. Scoot!"
Hopalong turned to his companion and smiled. "What'd he say?" He askedgenially.
"Oh, he jest shot off his mouth a little. They's all no good. I'vecollided with lots of them all over this country. They can't face a goodman an' keep their nerve. What'd yu say to th' marshal?"
"I told him what he was an' threw him outen th' street," repliedHopalong. "In about two weeks we'll have a new marshal an' he'll shorebe a dandy."
"Yes? Why don't yu take th' job yoreself? 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 inMontana, 'bout twenty years back?"
"Shore! Him and Frenchy McAllister 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' uphere?"
"Yes," responded Hopalong, struggling with another can while waiting forthe fire to catch up. "Better have some grub with me--don't like to eatalone," invited the cowboy, the reaction of his late rage swinging himto the other extreme.
When their tobacco had got well started at the close of the meal andcontent had taken possession of them Hopalong laughed quietly andfinally spoke:
"Did yu ever know Aristotle Smith when yu was up in Montana?"
"Did I! Well, me an' Aristotle prospected all through that country tillhe got so locoed I had to watch him fer fear he'd blow us both up. Hegreased th' fryin' pan with dynamite one night, an' we shore had to eatjerked meat an' canned stuff all th' rest of that trip. What made yuask? Is he comin' up too?"
"No, I reckons not. Jimmy, th' bartender, said that he cashed in upat 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' sunshore warped that punt till it wasn't even good for a hencoop."
"Nope. That was Sister--Annie Tompkins. He was purty near as bad asAristotle, though. He roped a puma up on th' Sacramentos, an' didn'tpunch no more fer three weeks. Well, here comes my pardner an' I reckonsI'll amble right along. If yu needs any referee or a side pardner in anyruction yu has only got to warble up my way. So long."
The next ten days passed quietly, and on the afternoon of the eleventhHopalong'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 Iwould drop in an' say that they're comin' after yu to-night, shore. Justheard of it from yore friend Jimmy. Yu can count on us when th' rushcomes. But why didn't yu say yu was a pard of Buck Peters'? Me an' himused to shoot up Laramie together. From what yore friend James says, yucan handle this gang by yore lonesome, but if yu needs any encouragementyu make some sign an' we'll help th' event along some. They's eight ofus that'll be waitin' up to get th' returns an' we're shore goin' to bein range."
"Gee, it's nice to run across a friend of Buck's! Ain't he ason-of-a-gun?" Asked Hopalong, delighted at the news. Then, withoutwaiting for a reply, he went on: "Yore shore square, all right, an' Ihates to refuse yore offer, but I got eighteen friends comin' up an'they ought to get here by tomorrow. Yu tell Jimmy to head them this waywhen they shows up an' I'll have th' claim for them. There ain't nouse of yu fellers gettin' mixed up in this. Th' bunch that's comin' canclean out any gang this side of sunup, an' I expects they'll shore beanxious to begin when they finds me eatin' peaches an' wastin' my timeshootin' bums. Yu pass th' word along to yore friends, an' tell them tolay low an' see th' Arory Boerallis hit this town with its tail up. TellJimmy to do it up good when he speaks about me holdin' th' claim--I likesto 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 ag
e. Say now, I reckons hewasn't a reg'lar terror on wheels! Why, I've seen him do more foolishthings than any man I knows of, an' I calculate that if Buck palswith yu there ain't no water in yore sand. My name's Tom Halloway," hesuggested.
"An' mine's Hopalong Cassidy," was the reply. "I've heard Buck speak ofyu."
"Has yu? Well, don't it beat all how little this world is? Somebodyallus 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 hestrode off. Then he stopped and turned around. "Hey, mister!" hecalled. "They are goin' to roll a fire barrel down agin yu from behind,"indicating by an outstretched arm the point from where it would start."If it burns yu out I'm goin' to take a band from up there," pointing toa 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 andshovel, he went out behind the cabin and dug a trench parallel with andabout twenty paces away from the rear wall. Heaping the excavated dirtup on the near side of the cut, he stepped back and surveyed his laborwith open satisfaction. "Roll yore fire barrel an' be dogged," hemuttered. "Mebby she won't make a bully light for pot shots, though," headded, grinning at the execution he would do.
Taking up his tools, he went up to the place from where the gang wouldroll the barrel, and made half a dozen mounds of twigs, being careful tomake them very flimsy. Then he covered them with earth and packedthem gently. The mounds looked very tempting from the view-point of amarksman in search of earth-works, and appeared capable of stopping anyrifle ball that could be fired against them. Hopalong looked them overcritically and stepped back.
"I'd like to see th' look on th' face of th' son-of-a-gun that uses themfor cover--won't he be surprised" and he grinned gleefully as he picturedhis shots boring through them. Then he placed in the center of each achip or a pebble or something that he thought would show up well in thefirelight.
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 hisexuberance. When he entered the door he had another idea, and fell towork scooping out a shallow cellar, deep enough to shelter him whenlying at full length. Then he stuck his head out of the window andgrinned at the false covers with their prominent bull's-eyes.
"When that prize-winnin' gang of ossified idiots runs up agin' thesefortifications they shore will be disgusted. I'll bet four dollars an'seven cents they'll think their medicine-man's no good. I hopes thatpuff-eyed marshal will pick out that hump with th' chip on it," and hehugged himself in anticipation.
He then cut down a sapling and fastened it to the roof and on it hetied his neckerchief, which fluttered valiantly and with defiance inthe light breeze. "I shore hopes they appreciates that," he remarkedwhimsically, as he went inside the hut and closed the door.
The early part of the evening passed in peace, and Hopalong, tired ofwatching in vain, wished for action. Midnight came, and it was not untilhalf an hour before dawn that he was attacked. Then a noise sent him toa loophole, where he fired two shots at skulking figures some distanceoff. A fusillade of bullets replied; one of them ripped through the doorat a weak spot and drilled a hole in a can of the everlasting peaches.Hopalong set the can in the frying pan and then flitted from loophole toloophole, shooting quick and straight. Several curses told him that hehad not missed, and he scooped up a finger of peach juice. Shots thuddedinto the walls of his fort in an unceasing stream, and, as it grewlighter, several whizzed through the loopholes. He kept close to theearth and waited for the rush, and when it came sent it back, minus twoof its members.
As he reloaded his Colts a bullet passed through his shirt sleeve and hepromptly nailed the marksman. He looked out of a crack in the rear walland saw the top of an adjoining hill crowned with spectators, all ofwhom were armed. Some time later he repulsed another attack and heard afaint cheer from his friends on the hill. Then he saw a barrel, blazingfrom end to end, roll out from the place he had so carefully coveredwith mounds. It gathered speed and bounded over the rough ground,flashed between two rocks and leaped into the trench, where it crackledand roared in vain.
"Now," said Hopalong, blazing at the mounds as fast as he could fire hisrifle, "we'll just see what yu thinks of yore nice little covers."
Yells of consternation and pain rang out in a swelling chorus, and legsand arms jerked and flopped, one man, in his astonishment at the shotthat 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 thediscomfited remnant of barrel-rollers broke for real cover.
Then he stopped another rush from the front, made upon the suppositionthat he was thinking only of the second detachment. A hearty cheer arosefrom Tom Halloway and his friends, ensconced in their rocky position,and it was taken up by those on the hill, who danced and yelled theirdelight at the battle, to them more humorous than otherwise.
This recognition of his prowess from men of the caliber of his audiencemade him feel good, and he grinned: "Gee, I'll bet Halloway an' hisfriends is shore itchin' to get in this," he murmured, firing at a headthat was shown for an instant. "Wonder what Red'll say when Jimmy tellshim--bet he'll plow dust like a cyclone," and Hopalong laughed, picturingto himself the satiation of Red's anger. "Old red-headed son-of-a-gun,"murmured the cowboy affectionately, "he shore can fight."
As he squinted over the sights of his rifle his eye caught sight of amoving 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 nothis friends. Then a second body numbering eight cantered into sight andfollowed 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, andrecklessly emptied them into the bushes and between the rocks and trees,searching every likely place for a human target. Then he slipped hisrifle in a loophole and waited for good shots, having worked off thedangerous pressure of his exuberance.
Soon he heard a yell from the direction of the "Miner's Rest," and fellto jamming cartridges into his revolvers so that he could sally out andjoin in the fray by the side of Red.
The thunder of madly pounding hoofs rolled up the trail, and soon ahorse and rider shot around the corner and headed for the copse. Threemore 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 andsent shot after shot into the fleeing mob, which he could not follow onaccount of the nature of the ground. Buck wheeled and dashed down thetrail again with Red a close second, the others packed in a solid massand after them. At the first level stretch the newcomers swept downand 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 ofisolated duels, and soon Hopalong saw panic-stricken horses carryingtheir riders out of the other side of the town. Then he went gunning forthe man who had rustled his horse. He was unsuccessful and returned tohis peaches.
Soon the riders came up, and when they saw Hopalong shove a peach intohis powder-grimed mouth they yelled their delight.
"Yu old maverick! Eatin' peaches like yu was afraid we'd git some!"shouted Red indignantly, leaping down and running up to his pal asthough to thrash him.
Hopalong grinned pleasantly and fired a peach against Red's eye. "Iwas savin' that one for yu, Reddie," he remarked, as he avoided Buck'splayful kick. "Yu fellers git to work an' dig up some wealth--I'mhungry." Then he turned to Buck: "Yore th'
marshal of this town, an' anyson-of-a-gun what don't like it had better write. Oh, yes, here comesTom 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!" hesaid.
"Yu shore did an' yu was purty devilish, but that there Cassidy of yournbeats anything I ever seen."
"He's a good kid," replied Buck, glancing to where Red and Hopalong werequarreling as to who had eaten the most pie in a contest held some yearsbefore.
Johnny, nosing around, came upon the perforated and partially scatteredpiles of earth and twigs, and vented his disgust of them by kicking themto 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 theexuberance of his pride. "Yu son-of-a-gun! Yu shore ought to be ashamedto treat 'em that way!"
"Shore," replied Hopalong. "But I ain't!"
