But what'll we do now? What's the next play?" asked
Red, hurriedly, his eyes searching the sky-line of the hills. "The rest
of the coyotes will be here purty soon, an' they'll be madder than ever
now. An' you better gimme back that gun, too."
"Take yore old gun--who wants the blamed thing, anyhow?" Hopalong
demanded, throwing the weapon at his friend as he ran to bring up the
hidden horse. When he returned he grinned pleasantly. "Why, we'll go on
like we was greased for calamity, that's what we'll do. Did you reckon
we was going to play leap-frog around here an' wait for the rest of them
paint-shops, like a blamed fool pair of idiots?"
"I didn't know what _you_ might do, remembering how you acted when I met
you," retorted Red, shifting his cartridge belt so the empty loops were
behind and out of the way. "But I shore knowed what we ought to do, all
right."
"Well, mebby you also know how many's headed this way; do you?"
"You've got me stumped there; but there's a round dozen, anyway," Red
replied. "You see, the three that chased me were out scouting ahead of
the main bunch; an' I didn't have no time to take no blasted census."
"Then we've got to hit the home trail, an' hit it hard. Wind up that
four-laigged excuse of yourn, an' take my dust," Hopalong responded,
leading the way. "If we can get home there'll be a lot of disgusted
braves hitting the high spots on the back trail trying to find a way
out.
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