Hopalong Cassidy stopped swearing at the weather and looked up and along
the trail in front of him, seeing a hard-riding man approach. He
turned his head and spoke to Buck Peters, who rode close behind him.
"Somebody's shore in a hurry--why, it's Fred Neal."
It was. Mr. Neal was making his arms move and was also shouting
something at the top of his voice. The noise of the rain and of the
horses' hoofs splashing in the mud and water at first made his words
unintelligible, but it was not long before Hopalong heard something
which made him sit up even straighter. In a moment Neal was near enough
to be heard distinctly and the outfit shook itself out of its weariness
and physical misery and followed its leader at reckless speed. As they
rode, bunched close together, Neal briefly and graphically outlined the
relative positions of the combatants, and while Buck's more cautious
mind was debating the best way to proceed against the enemy, Hopalong
cried out the plan to be followed. There would be no strategy--Johnny,
wounded and desperate, was fighting for his life. The simplest way was
the best--a dash regardless of consequences to those making it, for time
was a big factor to the two men in Jackson's store.
"Ride right at 'em!" Hopalong cried. "I know that bunch. They'll be too
scared to shoot straight. Paralyze 'em! Three or four are gone now--an'
the whole crowd wasn't worth one of the men they went out to get.
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