Red was very well
satisfied with his Winchester, and he was a good judge.
"You did stop 'em a little," asserted Mr. Cassidy some time later when
he looked back. "You stopped 'em coming straight, but they're spreading
out to work up around us. Now, if we had good cayuses instead of these
wooden wonders, we could run away from 'em dead easy, draw their best
mounted warriors to the front an' then close with 'em. Good thing their
cayuses are well tired out, for as it is we've got to make a stand purty
soon. Gee! They don't like you, Red; they're calling you names in the
sign language. Just look at 'em cuss you!"
"How much water have you got?" inquired his friend with anxiety.
"Canteen plumb full. How're you fixed?"
"I got the same, less one drink. That gives us enough for a couple of
days with some to spare, if we're careful," Mr. Connors replied.
New Mexican canteens are built on generous lines and are known as
life-preservers.
"Look at that glory-hunter go!" exclaimed Red, watching a brave who was
riding half a mile to their right and rapidly coming abreast of them.
"Wonder how he got over there without us seeing him."
"Here; stop him!" suggested Hopalong, holding out his Sharps. "We can't
let him get ahead of us and lay in ambush--that's what he's playing to
do."
"My gun's good, and better, for me, at this range; but you know, I can't
hit a jack-rabbit going over rough country as fast as that feller is,"
replied his companion, standing up in his stirrups and firing.
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