"It's Powers' old shack, boys!" shouted a man in the door to the
restless force outside, which immediately became more restless. "Hey!
Don't go yet!" he begged. "Wait for me an' the rest. Don't be a lot of
idiots!"
Excited and impatient voices replied from the darkness, vexed, grouchy,
and querulous. "Then get a move on--_whoa!_--it'll be light before we
get there if you don't hustle!" roared one voice above the confusion.
"You know what _that_ means!"
"Come on! Come on! For God's sake, are you tied to the bar?"
"Yo're a lot of old grandmothers! Come on!"
Hopalong appeared in the door. "I'll show you the way, boys!" he
shouted. "Cowan, put my saddle on yore cayuse--_pronto_!"
"Good for you, Hoppy!" came from the street. "We'll wait!"
"You stay here; yo're hurt too much!" cried Buck to his puncher, as he
grabbed up a box of cartridges from a shelf behind the bar. "Ain't you
got no sense? There's enough of us to take care of this without you!"
Hopalong wheeled and looked his foreman squarely in the eyes. "Red's
out there, waiting for me--I'm going! I'd be a fine sort of a coyote to
leave him in that hell hole an' not go back, wouldn't I!" he said, with
quiet determination.
"Good for you, Cassidy!" cried a man who hastened out to mount.
"Well, then, come on," replied Buck. "There's blamed few like you," he
muttered, following Hopalong outside.
Pages:
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126