shirt th' other day—took it right off th' corral wall, where Billy's left it to dry." Then, seeing Buck raise his eyebrows, he explained: "Shore, he washed it again. That makes three times since last fall."
The proprietor laughed and pushed out the ever-ready bottle, but Hopalong shoved it aside and told the reason: "Ever since I was up to K. C. I've been spoiled. I'm drinkin' water an' slush."
"For Gawd's sake, has any more of yu fellers been up to K. C?" queried the proprietor in alarm.
"Shore: Red an' Billy was up there, too." responded Hopalong. "Red's got a few remarks to shout to yu about yore pain-killer. Yu better send for some decent stuff afore he comes to town," he warned.
Buck swung away from the bar and looked at his dead cigar. Then he turned to Hopalong. "What did you find?" he asked.
"Same old story: nice wide trail up to th' Staked Plain—then nothin'."
"It shore beats me," soliloquized the foreman. "It shore beats me."
"Think it was Tamale José's old gang?" asked Hopalong.
"If it was they took th' wrong trail home—that ain't th' way to Mexico."
Hopalong tossed aside his half-smoked cigarette. "Well, come on home; what's th' use stewin' over it? It'll come out all O.K. in th' wash." Then he laughed: "There won't be no piebald waitin' for it."
Evading Buck's playful blow he led the way to the door, and soon they were a cloud of dust on the plain. The proprietor, despairing of customers under the circumstances, absent-mindedly wiped off the bar, and sought his chair for a nap, grumbling about the way his trade had fallen off, for there were few customers, and those who did call were heavy with loss of sleep,
