the swearing Hopalong inside, and then the lead they pumped
into the wrecked door was scandalous. Another panel fell in and
Hopalong's "C" was destroyed. A wide crack appeared in the one above it
and grew rapidly. Its mate began to gape and finally both were driven
in. The increase in the light caused by these openings allowed Red and
Lanky to secure better aim and soon the fire of the defenders died out.

Johnny dropped his rifle and, drawing his six-shooter, ran out and
dashed for the dilapidated door, while Hopalong covered that opening
with a fusilade.

As Johnny's shoulder sent the framework flying inward he narrowly missed
sudden death. As it was he staggered to the side, out of range, and
dropped full length to the ground, flat on his face. Hopalong's rifle
cracked incessantly, but to no avail. The man who had fired the shot was
dead. Buck got him immediately after he had shot Johnny.

Calling to Skinny and Red to cover him, Buck sprinted to where Johnny
lay gasping. The bullet had struck his shoulder. Buck, Colt in hand,
leaped through the door, but met with no resistance. He signaled to
Hopalong, who yelled, "They's none left."

The trees and rocks and gullies and buildings yielded men who soon
crowded around the hotel. A young doctor, lately graduated, appeared. It
was his first case, but he eased Johnny. Then he went over to Hopalong,
who was now raving, and attended to him. The others were patched up
as well as possible and the struggling young physician had his pockets
crammed full of gold and silver coins.

The scene of the wrecked barroom was indescribable. Holes, furrows,
shattered glass and bottles, the liquor oozing down the walls of the
shelves and running over the floor; the ruined furniture, a wrecked bar,
seared and shattered and covered with blood; bodies as they had been
piled in the corners; ropes, shells, hats; and liquor everywhere, over
everything, met the gaze of those who had caused the chaos.

Perry's Bend had failed to wipe out the score.

CHAPTER IV. The Vagrant Sioux

Buckskin gradually readjusted itself to the conditions which had existed
before its sudden leap into the limelight as a town which did things.
The soiree at the Houston House had drifted into the past, and was
now substantially established as an epoch in the history of the
town. Exuberant joy gave way to dignity and deprecation, and to solid
satisfaction; and the conversations across the bar brought forth
p