Several shots echoed from the far side of the knoll and they knew that
Red was all right. Billy was covering a cluster of rocks that
protruded above the others and, as they looked, his rifle rang out and
the last defender leaped down and disappeared in the chaparral. He
wore yellow trousers and an old boiled shirt.
By an'-by, by all that's bad!" yelled Hopalong. "Th' measly coyote!
An' me a-fillin' his ornery hide with liquor. Well, they'll have to
find him all over again now," he complained, astounded by the
revelation. He fired into the chaparral to express his pugnacious
disgust and scared out a huge tarantula, which alighted on Skinny's
chaps, crawling rapidly toward the unconscious man's neck. Hopalong's
face hardened and he slowly covered the insect and fired, driving it
into the sand, torn and lifeless. The bullet touched the leathern
garment and Skinny remonstrated, knowing that Hopalong was in no
condition for fancy shooting.
"Huh!" exclaimed Hopalong. "That was a tarantula what I plugged. He
was headin' for yore neck," he explained, watching the chaparral with
apprehension.
"Go `way, was it? Bully for yu!" exclaimed Skinny, tarantulas being
placed at par with rattlesnakes, and he considered that he had been
saved from a horrible death. "Thought yu said they wasn't no bugs over
here," he added in an aggrieved tone.
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