then he laughed silently. "Buck's got too many feet," he seriously remarked to his friend.
"Swing th' girl yu loves th' best!—he ain't lonesome, look at that"
Two shots rang out in quick succession and Harris stumbled, wheeled and pitched forward on his face as Hopalong's sombrero spun across his body. For a second there was an intense silence, heavy, strained and sickening. Then a roar broke forth and the crowd of frenzied merry-makers, headed by Hopalong, poured out into the street and spread out to search the town. As daylight dawned the searchers began to straggle back with the same report of failure. Buck and Red met on the street near the door and each looked questioningly at the other. Each shook his head and looked around, their fingers toying absentmindedly at their belts. Finally Buck cleared his throat and remarked casually, "Mebby he's following 'em."
Red nodded and they went over toward their horses. As they were hesitating which route to take, Billy Jordan came up.
"Mebby yu'd like to see yore pardner—he's out by Buzzard's Spring. We'll take care of him," jerking his thumb over his shoulder toward the saloon where Harris's body lay. "And we'll all git th' others later. They cain't git away for long."
Buck and Red nodded and headed for Buzzard's Spring. As they neared the water hole they saw Hopalong sitting on a rock, his head resting in one hand while the other hung loosely from his knee. He did not notice them when they arrived, and with a ready tact they sat quietly on their horses and looked in every direction except toward him. The sun became a ball of molten fire and the sand flies annoyed them incessantly, but still they sat and waited, silent and apologetic.
Hopalong finally arose, reached for his sombrero, and, finding it gone, swore long and earnestly at the scene its loss brought before him. He walked over to his horse and, leaping into the
