t of an Apache who moved cautiously through a
chaparral lying about nine hundred yards away. As long as the distant
enemy lay quietly he could not be discerned, but he was not content
with assured safety and took a chance. Hopalong raised his rifle to his
shoulder as the Indian fired and the latter's bullet, striking the
edge of the hole through which Mr. Cassidy peered, kicked up a generous
handful of dust, some of which found lodgment in that individual's eyes.

"Oh! Oh! Oh! Wow!" yelled the unfortunate, dancing blindly around the
room in rage and pain, and dropping his rifle to grab at his eyes. "Oh!
Oh! Oh!"

His companion wheeled like a flash and grabbed him as he stumbled past.
"Are you plugged bad, Hoppy? Where did they get you? Are you hit bad?"
and Red's heart was in his voice.

"No, I ain't plugged bad!" mimicked Hopalong. "I ain't plugged at all!"
he blazed, kicking enthusiastically at his solicitous friend. "Get me
some water, you jackass! Don't stand there like a fool! I ain't going to
fall down. Don't you know my eyes are full of 'dobe?"

Red, avoiding another kick, hastily complied, and as hastily left
Mr. Cassidy to wash out the dirt while he returned to his post by the
window. "Anybody'd think you was full of red-eye, the way you act,"
muttered Red peevishly.

Hopalong, rubbing his eyes of the dirt, went back to the hole in the
wall and looked out. "Hey, Red! Come over here an' spill that brave's
conceit. I can't keep my eyes open long enough to aim, an' it's a nice
shot, too. It'd serve him right if you got him!"

Mr. Connors obeyed the summons and peered out cautiously. "I can't see
him, nohow; where is the coyote?"

"Over there in that little chaparral; see him now? _There!_ See him
moving. Do you mean to tell me--"

"Yep; I see him, all right. You watch," was the reply. "He's just over
nine hundred--where's yore Sharps?" He took the weapon, glanced at the
Buffington sight, which he found to be set right, and aimed carefully.

Hopalong blinked through another hole as his friend fired and saw the
Indian flop down and crawl aimlessly about on hands and knees. "What's
he doing now, Red?"

"Playing marbles, you chump; an' here goes for his agate," replied the
man with the Sharps, firing again. "There! Gee!" he exclaimed, as a
bullet hummed in through the window he had quitted for the moment, and
thudded into the wall, making the dry adobe fly. It had missed him by
only a few inches and he now