ll he had a gun in each hand.

As he disappeared from sight Goodeye and Bill Jones stepped from behind
the store and started to run away. Not able to resist the temptation to
look again, they stopped and turned and Bill laughed.

"Easy as sin," he said.

"Run, yu fool--Red an' Buck'll be here. Want to git plugged?" shouted
Goodeye angrily.

They turned and started for a group of ponies twenty yards away, and as
they leaped into the saddles two shots were fired from the street. As
the reports died away Buck and Red turned the corner of the store, Colts
in hand, and, checking their rush as they saw the saddles emptied, they
turned toward the street and saw Hopalong, with blood oozing from an
abrasion on his cheek, sitting up cross-legged, with each hand holding a
gun, from which came thin wisps of smoke.

"Th' son-of-a-gun!" cried Buck, proud and delighted.

"Th' son-of-a-gun!" echoed Red, grinning.

CHAPTER VIII. Hopalong Keeps His Word

The waters of the Rio Grande slid placidly toward the Gulf, the hot sun
branding the sleepy waters with streaks of molten fire. To the north
arose from the gray sandy plain the Quitman Mountains, and beyond them
lay Bass Ca on. From the latter emerged a solitary figure astride a
broncho, and as he ascended the topmost rise he glanced below him at the
placid stream and beyond it into Mexico. As he sat quietly in his saddle
he smiled and laughed gently to himself. The trail he had just followed
had been replete with trouble which had suited the state of his mind
and he now felt humorous, having cleaned up a pressing debt with his
six-shooter. Surely there ought to be a mild sort of excitement in the
land he faced, something picturesque and out of the ordinary. This
was to be the finishing touch to his trip, and he had left his two
companions at Albuquerque in order that he might have to himself all
that he could find.

Not many miles to the south of him lay the town which had been the
rendezvous of Tamale Jose, whose weakness had been a liking for other
people's cattle. Well he remembered his first man hunt: the discovery
of the theft, the trail and pursuit and--the ending. He was scarcely
eighteen years of age when that event took place, and the wisdom he had
absorbed then had stood him in good stead many times since. He had even
now a touch of pride at the recollection how, when his older companions
had failed to get Tamale Jose, he with his undeveloped strategy had
gained