"I know
just how you feel about it; feel that way myself. But there ain't
a-going to be no fighting while I've got these cows on my han's. That
gang'll be here when we come back, all right."
"Mebby one or two of 'em won't," remarked Hawkins, as he looked again
over the carnage along the fence. "I never did much pot-shooting, 'cept
agin Injuns; but I dunno--" He did not finish, for the strangers were
almost at his elbow.
Cranky Joe led the 4X contingent and he did the talking for it
without waste of time. "Who the hell busted that fence?" he demanded,
belligerently, looking around savagely. Johnny's hand twitched at the
words and the way they were spoken.
"I did; did you think somebody leaned agin it?" replied Hopalong, very
calmly,--so calmly that it was about one step short of an explosion.
"Well, why didn't you go around?"
"Three thousand stampeding cattle don't go 'round wire fences in the
dark."
"Well, that's not our fault. Reckon you better dig down an' settle up
for the damages, an' half a cent a head for water; an' then go 'round.
You can't stampede through the other fence."
"That so?" asked Hopalong.
"Reckon it is."
"Yo're real shore it is?"
"Well there's only six of us here, but there's six more that we can get
blamed quick if we need 'em. It's so, all right."
"Well, coming down to figures, there's eight here, with two
hoss-wranglers an' a cook to come," retorted Hopalong, kicking the
belligerent Johnny on the shins.
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