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Updated: June 11, 2025
Pursuit was tried until the pursuers realized that their mounts were too worn out to stand a show against the fresh animals ridden by the survivors of the Oasis crowd. Red circled and joined Hopalong. "Blasted coyotes," he growled. "Killed Jackson an' Edwards, an' wanted the Kid! He's shore showed 'em what fighting is, all right.
But yu wants to look out that man," pointing to the now groping victim of Hopalong's blow, "is th' marshal of this town. He or his pals will get yu if yu don't watch th' corners." Hopalong walked over to the marshal, jerked him to his feet and slammed him against the bar. Then he tore the cheap badge from its place and threw it on the floor.
"That so?" replied Hopalong, surprised. "Well, I never seen it afore. My cayuse is is where the devil is it?" he asked, looking around anxiously. "How'd you get that one, then, if it ain't yours?" "Never had it 't ain't mine, nohow," replied Hopalong, with strong conviction. "Mine was a hoss."
Hopalong played either in great good luck or the contrary, while Frenchy played an even, consistent game and usually left off richer than when he began, and this decisive defeat bothered him more than he would admit, even to himself.
"When I tell you that you will not want him, do you still insist on seeing him?" "We'll see him, an' we'll want him, too." As the rain poured down again the sound of approaching horses was heard, and Hopalong ran to the door in time to see Buck Peters swing off his mount and step forward to enter the building.
It gathered speed and bounded over the rough ground, flashed between two rocks and leaped into the trench, where it crackled and roared in vain. "Now," said Hopalong, blazing at the mounds as fast as he could fire his rifle, "we'll just see what yu thinks of yore nice little covers."
"We can't get the cayuses down here, an' we can't swim that water without them. An' if we could, he'd pot us easy." "There's a way out of it somewhere," Red replied, disappearing over the edge of the bluff to gamble with Fate. "Hey! Come back here, you chump!" cried Hopalong, running forward. "He'll get you, shore!" "That's a chance I've got to take if I get him," was the reply.
At this time the old Spanish city was a bundle of high-strung nerves, and certain parts of it were calculated to furnish any and all kinds of excitement except revival meetings and church fairs. Hopalong straddled a lively nerve before he had been in the city an hour.
"I got it from Charley, an' there's more than yu can buy at fifty a shot." "Well, I'll just take a few for luck," Johnny responded, running out into the street. Returning in five minutes with both hands full of cigars he passed them around and grinned: "They're birds, all right!" Hopalong smiled, turned to Buck and related his conversation with Chancy. "What do yu think of that?"
His reasons for making this trip were two-fold: he wished to see Buck Peters, the foreman of the Bar-20 outfit, as he and Buck had punched cows together twenty years before and were firm friends; the other was that he wished to get square with Hopalong Cassidy, who had decisively cleaned him out the year before at poker.
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