He imagined he could still catch whiffs of burning cowhide
and again the picture of the camp came to his mind. Glancing again at
the point where Pie had disappeared, he stuffed his sombrero under a
strap on his saddle and slowly rode toward the lake. A coyote slunk
past him on a time-destroying lope and an owl hooted at the
foolishness of men. He camped at the base of a cottonwood and at
daylight took up his journey after a scanty breakfast from his saddle-
bags.
Shortly before noon he came in sight of the lake and looked for his
friend. He had just ridden around a clump of cotton-woods when he was
hit on the back with something large and soft. Turning in his saddle,
with his Colts ready, he saw Red sitting on a stump, a huge grin
extending over his features. He replaced the weapon, said something
about fools and dismounted, kicking aside the bundle of grass his
friend had thrown.
"Yore shore easy," remarked Red, tossing aside his cold cigarette.
"Suppose I was Trendley, where would yu be now?"
"Diggin' a hole to put yu in," pleasantly replied Hopalong. "If I
didn't know he wasn't around this part of the country I wouldn't a
rode as I did."
The man on the stump laughed and rolled a fresh cigarette. Lighting
it, he inquired where Mr. Trendley was, intimating by his words that
the rustler had not been found.
"About thirty miles to th' southeast," responded the other.
Pages:
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226