strange sounds from the other side of
the bar. Hopalong was intently studying a chromo on the wall and Johnny
gazed vacantly out of the window.

"What's that? What in the deuce is that?" quickly demanded the man with
the apron, swiftly reaching for his bung-starter.

_Tickety-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic_, the noise went on, and Hopalong, slowly
rolling his eyes, looked at the floor. A screw rebounded and struck his
foot, while shot were rolling recklessly.

"Them's making the noise," Johnny explained after critical survey.

"Hang it! I knowed we ought to 'a' got them wedges!" Hopalong exclaimed,
petulantly, closing the bottom of the sheath. "Why, I won't have no gun
left soon 'less I holds it in." The complaint was plaintive.

"Must be filtering through the stopper," Johnny remarked. "But don't it
sound nice, especially when it hits that brass cuspidor!"

The bartender, grasping the mallet even more firmly, arose on his toes
and peered over the bar, not quite sure of what he might discover. He
had read of infernal machines although he had never seen one. "What the
blazes!" he exclaimed in almost a whisper; and then his face went hard.
"You get out of here, quick! You've had too much already! I've seen
drunks, but--G'wan! Get out!"

"But we ain't begun yet," Hopalong interposed hastily. "You see--"

"Never mind what I see! I'd hate to see what you'll be seeing before
long. God help you when you finish!" rather impolitely interrupted the
bartender. He waved the mallet and made for the end of the counter with
no hesitancy and lots of purpose in his stride. "G'wan, now! Get out!"

"Come on, Johnny; I'd shoot him only we didn't put no powder with the
shot," Hopalong remarked sadly, leading the way out of the saloon and
towards the hardware store.

"You better get out!" shouted the man with the mallet, waving the weapon
defiantly. "An' don't you never come back again, neither," he warned.

"Hey, it leaked," Hopalong said pleasantly as he closed the door of the
hardware store behind him, whereupon the clerk jumped and reached for
the sawed-off shotgun behind the counter. Sawed-off shotguns are great
institutions for arguing at short range, almost as effective as dynamite
in clearing away obstacles.

"Don't you come no nearer!" he cried, white of face. "You git out, or
I'll let _this_ leak, an' give you _all_ shot, an' more than you can
carry!"

"Easy! Easy there, pardner; we want them wedges," Hopalong replied,
somewha