Invisible bees seemed to be winging through the air, the angry and
venomous droning becoming more pronounced each passing moment, and the
irregular cracking of rifles grew louder rapidly. An angry _s-p-a-t!_
told of where a stone behind them had launched the ricochet which hurled
skyward with a wheezing scream. A handful of 'dobe dust sprang from the
corner of the building and sifted down upon them, causing Red to cough.
"That ricochet was a Sharps!" exclaimed Hopalong, and they lost no time
in getting into the building, where the discussion was renewed as they
prepared for the final struggle. Red grunted his cheerful approval, for
now he was out of the blazing sun and where he could better appreciate
the musical tones of the flying bullets; but his companion, slamming
shut the door and propping it with a fallen roof-beam, grumbled and
finally gave rein to his rancor by sneering at the Winchester.
"It shore gets me that after all I have said about that gun you will
tote it around with you and force yoreself into a suicide's grave,"
quoth Mr. Cassidy, with exuberant pugnacity. "I ain't in no way
objecting to the suicide part of it, but I can't see that it's at all
fair to drag _me_ onto the edge of everlasting eternity with you. If you
ain't got no regard for yore own life you shore ought to think a little
about yore friend's.
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