I'll bet Halloway an' his
friends is shore itchin' to get in this," he murmured, firing at a head
that was shown for an instant. "Wonder what Red'll say when Jimmy tells
him--bet he'll plow dust like a cyclone," and Hopalong laughed, picturing
to himself the satiation of Red's anger. "Old red-headed son-of-a-gun,"
murmured the cowboy affectionately, "he shore can fight."

As he squinted over the sights of his rifle his eye caught sight of a
moving body of men as they cantered over the flats about two miles away.
In his eagerness he forgot to shoot and carefully counted them. "Nine,"
he grumbled. "Wonder what's th' matter?" Fearing that they were not
his friends. Then a second body numbering eight cantered into sight and
followed the first.

"Whoop! There's th' Red-head!" he shouted, dancing in his joy. "Now,"
he shouted at the peach can joyously, "yu wait about thirty minutes an'
yu'll shore reckon Hades has busted loose!"

He grabbed up his Colts, which he kept loaded for repelling rushes, and
recklessly emptied them into the bushes and between the rocks and trees,
searching every likely place for a human target. Then he slipped his
rifle in a loophole and waited for good shots, having worked off the
dangerous pressure of his exuberance.

Soon he heard a yell from the direction of the "Miner's Rest," and fell
to jamming cartridges into his revolvers so that he could sally out and
join in the fray by the side of Red.

The thunder of madly pounding hoofs rolled up the trail, and soon a
horse and rider shot around the corner and headed for the copse. Three
more raced close behind and then a bunch of six, followed by the rest,
spread out and searched for trouble.

Red, a Colt in each hand and hatless, stood up in his stirrups and
sent shot after shot into the fleeing mob, which he could not follow on
account of the nature of the ground. Buck wheeled and dashed down the
trail again with Red a close second, the others packed in a solid mass
and after them. At the first level stretch the newcomers swept down
and hit their enemies, going through them like a knife through cheese.
Hopalong danced up and down with rage when he could not find his horse,
and had to stand and yell, a spectator.

The fight drifted in among the buildings, where it became a series of
isolated duels, and soon Hopalong saw panic-stricken horses carrying
their riders out of the other side of the town. Then he went gunning for
the man who had rust