He slid over the
edge and Pete grabbed him.
"Next," suggested Pete, expectantly.
Tim tossed his Colt over the edge. "Here's another," he swore, following
the weapon. He was grabbed and bound in a trice.
"When may we expect you, Mr. Duke?" asked Johnny, looking up.
"Presently, friend, presently. I want to--_wow_!" he finished, and
lost no time in his descent, which was meteoric. "That feller'll _kill_
somebody if he ain't careful!" he complained as Pete tied his hands
behind his back.
"You wait till daylight an' see," cheerily replied Pete as the three
were led off to join their friends in the corral.
There was no further action until the sun arose and then Hopalong
hailed the house and demanded a parley, and soon he and Boggs met midway
between the shack and the line.
"What d'you want?" asked Boggs, sullenly.
"Want you to stop this farce so I can go on with my drive."
"Well, I ain't holding you!" exploded the 4X foreman.
"Oh, yes; but you are. I can't let you an' yore men out to hang on our
flanks an' worry us; an' I don't want to hold you in that shack till you
all die of thirst, or come out to be all shot up. Besides, I can't fool
around here for a week; I got business to look after."
"Don't you worry about us dying with thirst; that ain't worrying us
none."
"I heard different," replied Hopalong, smiling.
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