Mr. Billy Williams, who sat at the top of the stairs, was feeling hungry and
thirsty when he saw his friend, Mr. Pete Wilson, the slow witted,
approaching.
"Hey, Pete," he called, "come up here an' watch this door while I rustles
some grub. Keep yore eyes open," he cautioned.
As Pete began to feel restless the door opened and a dignified gentleman
with white whiskers came out into the hall and then retreated with great
haste and no dignity. Pete got the drop on the door and waited. Hopalong
yanked it open and kissed the muzzle of the weapon before he could stop, and
Pete grinned.
"Coming to th' fight?" He loudly asked. "It's going to be a shore `nough
sumptious scrap-just th' kind yu allus like. Come on, th' boys are waitin'
for yu."
"Keep quiet!" hissed Hopalong.
"What for?" Asked Pete in surprise. "Didn't yu say yu shore wanted to see
that scrap?"
"Shut yore face an' get scarce, or yu'll go home in cans!"
As Hopalong seated himself once more Red strolled up to the door and
knocked. Hopalong ripped it open and Red, looking as fierce and worried as he
could, asked Hopalong if he was all right. Upon being assured by smoking
adjectives that he was, the caller looked relieved and turned thoughtfully
away.
"Hey, yu! Come here!" called Hopalong.
Red waved his hand and said that he had to meet a man and clattered down the
stairs.
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