"Oh, yu needn't be hikin' for Albuquerque-WasheeWashee'ud charge yu
double for washin' yore shirt. Yu ought to fall in di' river some day-
then he might talk business," called Hopalong over his shoulder as he
heaved an old boot into the gallery. "Hey, yu hibernatin' son of
morphine, if yu don't git them flapjacks in here pretty sudden-like
I'll scatter yu all over di' landscape, sabe? Yu just wait till Johnny
comes!"
"Wonder where th' kid is?" asked Lanky, rolling a cigarette. "Off
somewhere lookin' at di' sun through di' bottom of my bottle,"
grumbled Billy.
Hopalong started to go out, but halted on the sill and looked
steadily off toward the northwest. "That's funny. Hey, fellows, here
comes Buck an' Johnny ridin' double-on a walk, too!" he exclaimed.
"Wonder what th'-thunder! Red, Buck's carryun' him! Somethin's
busted!" he yelled, as he dashed for his pony and made for the
newcomers.
"I told yu he was hittin' my bottle," pertly remarked Billy, as he
followed the rest outside.
"Did yu ever see Johnny drunk? Did yu ever see him drink more'n two
glasses? Shut yore wailin' face-they's somethin' worse'n that in this
here," said Red, his temper rising. "Hopalong an' me took yore cheap
liquor-it's under Pete's bunk," he added.
The trio approached on a walk and Johnny, delirious and covered with
blood, was carried into the bunk house.
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