"They are, and you may never see Texas again."

"So? Well, yu tell yore most particular friends that the job is worth
five thousand, and that it will take so many to do it that when th'
mazuma is divided up it won't buy a meal. There's only one man in this
country tonight that can earn that money, an' that's me," said the
puncher. "An' I don't need it," he added, smiling.

"But you are my prisoner--you are under arrest," enlightened the sheriff,
rolling another cigarette. The sheriff spoke as if asking a question.
Never before had five hundred dollars been so close at hand and yet so
unobtainable. It was like having a check-book but no bank account.

"I'm shore sorry to treat yu mean," remarked Hopalong, "but I was paid a
month in advance an' I'll have to go back an' earn it."

"You can--if you say that you will return," replied the sheriff
tentatively. The sheriff meant what he said and for the moment had
forgotten that he was powerless and was not the one to make terms.

Hopalong was amazed and for a time his ideas of Mexicans staggered under
the blow. Then he smiled sympathetically as he realized that he faced a
white man.

"Never like to promise nothin'," he replied. "I might get plugged, or
something might happen that wouldn't let me." Then his face lighted up
as a thought came to him. "Say, I'll cut di' cards with yu to see if I
comes back or not."

The sheriff leaned back and gazed at the cool youngster before him.
A smile of satisfaction, partly at the self-reliance of his guest and
partly at the novelty of his situation, spread over his face. He reached
for a pack of Mexican cards and laughed. "Man! You're a cool one--I'll do
it. What do you call?"

"Red," answered Hopalong.

The sheriff slowly raised his hand and revealed the ace of hearts.
Hopalong leaned back and laughed, at the same time taking from his
pocket the six extracted cartridges. Arising and going over to the
bed he slipped them in the chambers of the new gun and then placed the
loaded weapon at the sheriff's elbow.

"Well, I reckon I'll amble, sheriff," he said as he opened the door. "If
yu ever sifts up my way drop in an' see me--th' boys'll give yu a good
time."

"Thanks; I will be glad to," replied the sheriff. "You'll take your
pitcher to the well once too often some day, my friend. This courtesy,"
glancing at the restored revolver, "might have cost you dearly."

"Shoo! I did that once an' th' feller tried to use it," replied