hull lot of future. I 'll naturally blow most of his head off, which is frequent fatal. What 's that? Oh, he 's a bad man, is he? Uh-huh; so 'm I. Well, I 'm goin' to run along now an' see th' boss. If you won't tell, you won't. I 'll be back soon," and he sauntered to the street and headed for Pete's saloon, where the agent had said Mr. Clarke was wont to pass his fretful hours.
As he turned the corner he bumped into Hopalong and Johnny, who grabbed at him, and missed. He backed off and rested on his toes, gingery and alert. "Keep yore dusty han's off'n me," he said, quietly. "I 'm goin' down to palaver with a gent what I don't like."
Hopalong's shrewd glance looked him over. "What did this gent do?" he asked, and he would not be evaded.
"Oh, he insulted a nice li'l girl, an' I 'm in a hurry."
"G'way!" exclaimed Johnny. "That straight?"
"Too d—n straight," snapped Sammy. "He went an' bruised her wrists an' made her cry."
"Lead th' way, Kid," rejoined Johnny, readjusting
