But when am I going to
get my cayuse? I've got a long way to go, an' delay is costly--how much
did you say these yaller fellers cost?" he asked significantly, trying
another handful of apricots.
"On the dead level, cross my heart an' hope to die, but I ain't seen
yore cayuse since you left here," earnestly replied Dave. "If you don't
know where it is, then somebody went an' lifted it. It looks like it's
up to you to do some hunting, 'stead of cultivating a belly-ache at _my_
expense. _I_ ain't trying to keep you, God knows!"
Hopalong glanced out of the window as he considered, and saw, entering
the saloon, the same puncher who had confessed to seeing his horse. "Hey
Dave; wait a minute!" and he dashed out of the store and made good time
towards the liquid refreshment parlor. Dave promptly nailed the covers
on the boxes of prunes and apricots and leaned innocently against the
cracker box to await results, thinking hard all the while. It looked
like a plain case of horse-stealing to him.
"Stranger," cried Hopalong, bouncing into the bar-room, "where did you
see that cayuse of mine?"
"The ancient relic of yore family was aheading towards Hoyt's Corners,"
the stranger replied, grinning broadly. "It's a long walk. Have
something before you starts?"
"Damn the walk! Who was riding him?"
"Nobody at all.
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