Holden sobbed and muttered as the minutes dragged along, at times acting
so strangely as to draw a covert side-glance from one or both of the
Bar-20 punchers. Then Mr. Connors saw his boon companion suddenly lean
out of a window and immediately become the target for the hard-working
enemy. He swore angrily at the criminal recklessness of it. "Hey, you!
Come in out of that! Ain't you got no brains at all, you blasted idiot!
Don't you know that we need every gun?"
"Yes; that's right. I sort of forgot," grinned the reckless one, obeying
with alacrity and looking sheepish. "But you know there's two thundering
big tarantulas out there fighting like blazes. You ought to see 'em
jump! It's a sort of a leap-frog fight, Red."
"Fool!" snorted Mr. Connors belligerently. "_You'd_ 'a' jumped if one of
them slugs had 'a' got you! Yo're the damnedest fool that ever walked on
two laigs, you blasted sage-hen!" Mr. Connors was beginning to lose his
temper and talk in his throat.
"Well, they didn't get me, did they? What you yelling about, anyhow?"
growled Hopalong, trying to brazen it out.
"An' _you_ talking about suicide to me!" snapped Mr. Connors, determined
to rub it in and have the last word.
Mr. Holden stared, open-mouthed, at the man who could enjoy a miserable
spider fight under such distressing circumstances, and his shaken nerves
became steadier as he gave thought to the fact that he was a companion
of the two men about whose exploits he had heard so much.
Pages:
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119