crept along the floor to the rear of the
room and shoved his rifle out among the branches of a stunted mesquite
which grew before a fissure in the wall. "You keep away from that windy
for a minute, Hoppy," he warned as he waited.

A terror-stricken lizard flashed out of the fissure and along the wall
where the roof had fallen in and flitted into a hole, while a fly buzzed
loudly and hovered persistently around Red's head, to the rage of that
individual. "Ah, ha!" he grunted, lowering the rifle and peering through
the smoke. A yell reached his ears and he forthwith returned to his
window, whistling softly.

Evidently Mr. Cassidy's eyes were better and his temper sweeter, for he
hummed "Dixie" and then jumped to "Yankee Doodle," mixing the two
airs with careless impartiality, which was a sign that he was thinking
deeply. "Wonder what ever became of Powers, Red. Peculiar feller, he
was."

"In jail, I reckon, if drink hasn't killed him."

"Yes; I reckon so," and Mr. Cassidy continued his medley, which prompted
his friend quickly to announce his unqualified disapproval.

"You can make more of a mess of them two songs than anybody I ever heard
murder 'em! _Shut up!_"--and the concert stopped, the vocalist venting
his feelings at an Indian, and killing the horse instead.

"Did you get him?" queried Red.

"Nope; but I got his cayuse," Hopalong replied, shoving a fresh
cartridge into the foul, greasy breech of the Sharps. "An' here's where
I get him--got to square up for my eyes some way," he muttered, firing.
"Missed! Now what do you think of that!" he exclaimed.

"Better take my Winchester," suggested Red, in a matter-of-fact way, but
he chuckled softly and listened for the reply.

"Aw, you go to the devil!" snapped Mr. Cassidy, firing again. "Whoop!
Got him that time!"

"Where?" asked his companion, with strong suspicion.

"None of yore business!"

"Aw, darn it! Who spilled the water?" yelled Red, staring blankly at the
overturned canteen.

"Pshaw! Reckon I did, Red," apologized his friend ruefully. "Now of all
the cussed luck!"

"Oh, well; we've got another, an' you had to wash out yore eyes. Lucky
we each had one--_Holy smoke!_ It's most all gone! The top is loose!"

Heartfelt profanity filled the room and the two disgusted punchers went
sullenly back to their posts. It was a calamity of no small magnitude,
for, while food could be dispensed with for a long time if necessary,
going without water was anot