to-night," he explained, thinking of the
elaborate preparations that he would have gone to if he had thought the
irrepressible would call.

"Well, I was down this way, an' seeing as how I had promised to drop
in I just natchurally dropped," replied Hopalong as he took the chair
proffered by his host.

After talking awhile on everything and nothing the sheriff coughed and
looked uneasily at his guest.

"Mr. Cassidy, I am sorry you called, for I like men of your energy and
courage and I very much dislike to arrest you," remarked the sheriff.
"Of course you understand that you are under arrest," he added with
anxiety.

"Who, me?" Asked Hopalong with a rising inflection.

"Most assuredly," breathed the sheriff.

"Why, this is the first time I ever heard anything about it," replied
the astonished cow-puncher. "I'm an American--don't that make any
difference?"

"Not in this case, I'm afraid. You see, it's for manslaughter."

"Well, don't that beat th' devil, now?" Said Hopalong. He felt sorry
that a citizen of the glorious United States should be prey for
troublesome sheriffs, but he was sure that his duty to Texas called upon
him never to submit to arrest at the hands of a Mexican. Remembering
the Alamo, and still behind his Colt, he reached over and took up the
shining weapon from the table and snapped it open on his knee. After
placing the cartridges in his pocket he tossed the gun over on the bed
and, reaching inside his shirt, drew out another and threw it after the
first.

"That's yore gun; I forgot to leave it," he said, apologetically.
"Anyhow yu needs two," he added.

Then he glanced around the room, noticed the poster and walked over
and read it. A full swift sweep of his gloved hand tore it from its
fastenings and crammed it under his belt. The glimmer of anger in his
eyes gave way as he realized that his head was worth a definite price,
and he smiled at what the boys would say when he showed it to them.
Planting his feet far apart and placing his arms akimbo he faced his
host in grim defiance.

"Got any more of these?" He inquired, placing his hand on the poster
under his belt.

"Several," replied the sheriff.

"Trot 'em out," ordered Hopalong shortly.

The sheriff sighed, stretched and went over to a shelf, from which he
took a bundle of the articles in question. Turning slowly he looked at
the puncher and handed them to him.

"I reckons they's all over this here town," remarked Hopalong.