"
"Did yu git him?" asked the anxious Johnny, rubbing his welt. "Plum'
center," responded the business-like Billy. "Go up agin, mebby I kin
git another," he suggested tentatively.
"Mebby you kin go to blazes. I ain't no gallery," grinned the now
exuberant owner of the welt.
"Who's got the buffalo?" he inquired as the great gun roared.
"Mus' be Cowan. He's shore all right. Sounds like a bloomin'
cannon," replied Billy. "Lemme alone with yore fool questions, I'm
busy," he complained as his talkative partner started to ask another.
"Go an' git me some water-I'm alkalied. An' git some .45's, mine's
purty near gone."
Johnny crawled down the arroyo and reappeared at Hopalong's barn.
As he entered the door a handful of empty shells fell on his hat and
dropped to the floor. He shook his head and remarked, "That mus' be
that fool Hopalong."
"Yore shore right. How's business?" inquired the festive Cassidy.
"Purty fair. Billy's got one. How many's gone?"
"Buck's got three, I got two and Skinny's got one. That's six, an'
Billy is seven. They's five more," he replied.
"How'd yu know?" queried Johnny as he filled his flask at the horse
trough.
"Because they's twelve cayuses behind the hotel. That's why."
"They might git away on `em," suggested the practical Johnny.
"Can't. They's all cashed in."
"Yu said that they's five left," ejaculated the puzzled water
carrier.
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