Not
content with the damage he had inflicted, he leaned over and swooped
it up. Riding further he also swooped up a stone and tied the kerchief
around it, and then stood up in his stirrups and drew back his arm with
critical judgment. He sat quietly for a time after the gaudy missile had
disappeared into the stream and then, wheeling, cantered away. But he
did not return to the town of Grant--he lacked the nerve to face Dave
Wilkes and tell his childish and improbable story. He would ride on and
meet Red as they had agreed; a letter would do for Mr. Wilkes, and after
he had broken the shock in that manner he could pay him a personal visit
sometime soon. Dave would never believe the story and when it was told
Hopalong wanted to have the value of the horse in his trousers pocket.
Of course, Ben Ferris _might_ have told the truth and he might return
the horse according to directions. Hopalong emerged from his reverie
long enough to appeal to his mount:
"Bronc, I've been thinking: am I or am I not a jackass?"
CHAPTER VIII
RED BRINGS TROUBLE
After a night spent on the plain and a cigarette for his breakfast,
Hopalong, grouchy and hungry, rode slowly to the place appointed for his
meeting with Red, but Mr. Connors was over two hours late. It was now
mid-forenoon and Hopalong occupied his time for a while by riding out
fancy designs on the sand; but he soon tired of this makeshift diversion
and grew petulant.
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