Hopalong Cassidys Rustler Round-Up | Page 5

more C 80 cows over here
than they's Bar-20's over there."
Shorty reached for his revolver and yelled, "Yore a liar!"
Among the cowboys in particular and the Westerners in general at that
time, the three suicidal terms, unless one was an expert in drawing
quick and shooting straight with one movement, were the words "liar,"
"coward," and "thief." Any man who was called one of these in earnest,

and he was the judge, was expected to shoot if he could and save his
life, for the words were seldom used without a gun coming with them.
The movement of Shorty's hand toward his belt before the appellation
reached him was enough for Skinny, who let go at long range-and
missed.
The two reports were as one. Both urged their horses nearer and fired
again. This time Skinny's sombrero gave a sharp jerk and a hole
appeared in the crown. The third shot of Skinny's sent the horse of the
other to its knees and then over on its side. Shorty very promptly
crawled behind it and, as he did so, Skinny began a wide circle, firing
at intervals as Shorty's smoke cleared away.
Shorty had the best position for defense, as he was in a shallow coul e,
but he knew that he could not leave it until his opponent had either
grown tired of the affair or had used up his ammunition. Skinny knew it,
too. Skinny also knew that he could get back to the ranch house and lay
in a supply of food and ammunition and return before Shorty could
cover the twelve miles he had to go on foot.
Finally Thompson began to head for home. He had carried the matter as
far as he could without it being murder. Too much time had elapsed
now, and, besides, it was before breakfast and he was hungry. He
would go away and settle the score at some time when they would be
on equal terms.
He rode along the line for a mile and chanced to look back. Two C 80
punchers were riding after him, and as they saw him turn and discover
them they fired at him and yelled. He rode on for some distance and
cautiously drew his rifle out of its long holster at his right leg. Suddenly
he turned around in the saddle and fired twice. One of his pursuers fell
forward on the neck of his horse, and his comrade turned to help him.
Thompson wig-wagged again and rode on, reaching the ranch as the
others were finishing their breakfast.
At the table Red Connors remarked that the tardy one had a hole in his
sombrero, and asked its owner how and where he had received it.

"Had a argument with C 80 out'n th' line."
"Go `way! Ventilate enny?"
"One."
"Good boy, sonny! Hey, Hopalong, Skinny perforated C 80 this
mawnin'!"
Hopalong Cassidy was struggling with a mouthful of beef. He turned
his eyes toward Red without ceasing, and grinning as well as he could
under the circumstances managed to grunt out "Gu-," which was as
near to "Good" as the beef would allow.
Lanky Smith now chimed in as he repeatedly stuck his knife into a
reluctant boiled potato, "How'd yu do it, Skinny?"
"Bet he sneaked up on him," joshed Buck Peters; "did yu ask his pardin,
Skinny?"
"Ask nuthin'," remarked Red, "he jest nachurly walks up to C 80 an' sez,
`Kin I have the pleasure of ventilatin' yu?' an' C So he sez, `If yu do it
easy like,' sez he. Didn't he, Thompson?"
"They'll be some ventilatin' under th' table if yu fellows don't lemme
alone; I'm hungry," complained Skinny.
"Say, Hopalong, I bets yu I kin clean up C 80 all by my lonesome,"
announced Buck, winking at Red.
"Yah! Yu onct tried to clean up the Bend, Buckie, an' if Pete an' Billy
hadn't afound yu when they come by Eagle Pass that night yu wouldn't
be here eatin' beef by th' pound," glancing at the hard-working
Hopalong. "It was plum lucky fer yu that they was acourtin' that time,
wasn't it, Hopalong?" suddenly asked Red. Hopalong nearly strangled
in his efforts to speak. He gave it up and nodded his head.
"Why can't yu git it straight, Connors? I wasn't doin' no courtin', it was
Pete. I runned into him on th' other side o' th' pass. I'd look fine

acourtin', wouldn't I?" asked the downtrodden Williams.
Pete Wilson skillfully flipped a potato into that worthy's coffee, spilling
the beverage of the questionable name over a large expanse of blue
flannel shirt. "Yu's all right, yu are. Why, when I meets yu, yu was lost
in th' arms of yore ladylove. All I could see was yore feet. Go an' git
tangled up with