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An old man with very bandy legs came hobbling out of the toll-house, and went to open the gate, talking and muttering to himself: "Ay, ay! so yü be agwoin' after the young uns, Maister Rosewarne? Ay, ay! yü'll go up many a lane and by many a fuzzy 'ill, and acrass a bridge or two, afore yü come up wi' 'en, Maister Rosewarne." "Look sharp, Job!" said Rosewarne. "Carriage been through here lately?"
He's still over ther, nasty-drunk an' shootin' off what he's goin' t' do." He rubbed his hands in gleeful anticipation, gloating deeply in his throat: "Stirrin' times! ar! stirrin' times! . . . Now 'bout that ther hobo, Sargint " "Aw! damn th' hobo!" exploded Slavin impatiently. "Here, Nick! show me Windy's harse. Fwhat? Niver yeh mind fwhat for . . . now! Yu'll know all 'bout that later."
" Well, ef ye air," said the old man, slowly, "I'm a-thinkin' yu'll have to buck up ag'in Sherd Raines, fer ef I hain't like a goose a-pickin' o' grass by moonshine, Sherd air atter the gal fer hisself, not fer the Lord. Yes," he continued, after a short, dry laugh; "'n' mebbe ye'll hav to keep an eye open fer old Bill.
"It's going to be a shore 'nough sumptious scrap just th' kind yu allus like. Come on, th' boys are waitin' for yu." "Keep quiet!" hissed Hopalong. "What for?" Asked Pete in surprise. "Didn't yu say yu shore wanted to see that scrap?" "Shut yore face an' get scarce, or yu'll go home in cans!" As Hopalong seated himself once more Red strolled up to the door and knocked.
He detailed a reckless, sordid, bold scheme, which, on the pivot of a trading venture, was intended to spin a whole wheel of political convulsions. "They'll never let you get there," said old Pearse. "Won't they?" returned Zachary. "Oh yes, they will, an' when I leave, there'll be another dynasty, and I'll be a rich man." "Yu'll never leave," answered the old man.
Hopalong rode over to him and swinging down, picked up the gun and looked the officer over. "Shoo, yu'll be all right soon yore only plugged in th' arms," he remarked as he glanced up the street. Shadowy forms were gliding from cover to cover and he immediately caused consternation among them by his accuracy. "Ain't it sad?" He complained to the wounded man.
"Likes the salt," said Shorty. "Now, n-n-ow, here! Yu' don't guess yu'll be bridled, don't you? Open your teeth! Yu'd like to play yu' was nobody's horse and live private? Or maybe yu'd prefer ownin' a saloon?" Pedro evidently enjoyed this talk, and the dodging he made about the bit. Once fairly in his mouth, he accepted the inevitable, and followed Shorty to the bars.
Cassidy smiled and fired close to the Mexican's ear, who lost in one frightened jump a little of what he had so laboriously gained. "Yu'll wear out yore pants," said Mr. Cassidy, and then added grimly, "an' my patience." Mr. Travennes smiled and thought of the man who so ably seconded Mr. Cassidy's efforts and who was probably shot by this time.
Hopalong grabbed the intruder by the collar of his shirt and hauled him off the claim. "Yu keep off this, understand? I just kicked yore marshal out in th' street, an' I'll pay yu th' next call. If yu rambles in range of my guns yu'll shore get in th' way of a slug. Yu an' yore gang wants to browse on th' far side of th' range or yu'll miss a sunrise some mornin'. Scoot!"
"Sure!" replied the latter, "They was both in here 'bout half an hour ago, anyways." Slavin turned to Yorke. "Go yu an' hunt up thim fellers an' bring thim here!" he ordered. "Ravin' clean bug-house! that's what he is!" wailed Brophy. "That bar o' mine! oh, Lord! Yu'll git it soaked to yu' this time, Windy, an' don't yu' furgit it!" The prisoner paid no attention to the landlord's revilings.
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