Hopalong told in a graphic, terse manner all
that was necessary, while Buck and Cowan hurriedly bandaged his wounds.
"Come on! Come on!" shouted the mounted crowd outside, angry, and
impatient for a start, the prancing of horses and the clinking of metal
adding to the noise. "Get a move on! _Will_ you hurry up!"
"Listen, Hoppy!" pleaded Buck, in a furore. "Shut up, you outside!" he
yelled. "You say they know that you got away, Hoppy?" he asked. "All
right--_Lanky!_" he shouted. "_Lanky!_"
"All right, Buck!" and Lanky Smith roughly pushed his way through the
crowd to his foreman's side. "Here I am."
"Take Skinny and Pete with you, an' a lead horse apiece. Strike straight
for Powers' old ranch house. Them Injuns'll have pickets out looking for
Hoppy's friends. You three get the pickets nearest the old trail through
that arroyo to the southeast, an' then wait for us. We'll come along the
high bank on the left. Don't make no noise doing it, neither, if you can
help it. Understand? Good! Now ride like the devil!"
Lanky grabbed Pete and Skinny on his way out and disappeared into the
corral; and very soon thereafter hoof-beats thudded softly in the sandy
street and pounded into the darkness of the north, soon lost to the ear.
An uproar of advice and good wishes crashed after them, for the game had
begun.
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