"Lovely
place!" he sneered.
"You better save them cartridges, Hoppy," interposed Red as his
companion fired again, feeling that he must say something.
"An' what for?" blazed his friend. "To plug sand storms? Anybody
what we find on this God-forsaken lay-out won't have to be shot-they
will commit suicide an' think it's fun! Tell yu what, if them rustlers
hangs out on this sand range they're better men than I reckons they
are. Anybody what hides up here shore earns all he steals. "Hopalong
grumbled from force of habit and because no one else would. His
companions understood this and paid no attention to him, which
increased his disgust.
"What are we up here for?" He asked, belligerently. "Why, because
them Double Arrow idiots can't even watch a desert! We have to do
their work for them an' they hangs around home an' gets slaughtered!
Yes, sir!" he shouted, "they can't even take care of themselves when
they're in line-houses what are forts. Why, that time we cleaned out
them an' th' C-80 over at Buckskin they couldn't help runnin' into
singin' lead!"
"Yes," drawled Red, whose recollection of that fight was vivid.
"Yas, an' why?" He asked, and then replied to his own question.
"Because yu sat up in a barn behind them, Buck played his gun on th'
side window, Pete an' Skinny lay behind a rock to one side of Buck, me
an' Lanky was across th' Street in front of them, an' Billy an' Johnny
was in th' arroyo on th' other side.
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