' trail along!"

These were a few of the salutations discernible among the medley of
playful yells, the safety valves of supercharged good-nature.

"Skr-e-e!" yelled Hopalong Cassidy, letting off a fusillade of shots in
the vicinity of Fleas, who rapidly retreated around the corner, where he
wagged his tail in eager expectation. He was not disappointed, for a cow
pony tore around in pursuit and Hopalong leaned over and scratched the
yellow back, thumping it heartily, and, tossing a chunk of beef into the
open jaws of the delighted dog, departed as he had come. The advent of
the outfit meant a square meal, and the dog knew it.

In Cowan's, lined up against the bar, the others were earnestly and
assiduously endeavoring, with a promise of success, to get By-and-by
drunk, which endeavors coincided perfectly with By-and-by's idea of the
fitness of things. The fellowship and the liquor combined to thaw
out his reserve and to loosen his tongue. After gazing with an air of
injured surprise at the genial loosening of his knees he gravely handed
his rifle with an exaggerated sweep of his arm, to the cowboy nearest
him, and wrapped his arms around the recipient to insure his balance.
The rifle was passed from hand to hand until it came to Buck Peters, who
gravely presented it to its owner as a new gun.

By-and-by threw out his stomach in an endeavor to keep his head in line
with his heels, and grasping the weapon with both hands turned to Cowan,
to whom he gave it.

"Yu hab this un. Me got two. Me keep new un, mebby so." Then he loosened
his belt and drank long and deep.

A shadow darkened the doorway and Hopalong limped in. Spying By-and-by
pushing the bottle into his mouth, while Red Connors propped him,
he grinned and took out five silver dollars, which he jingled under
By-and-by's eyes, causing that worthy to lay aside the liquor and
erratically grab for the tantalizing fortune.

"Not yet, sabe?" said Hopalong, changing the position of the money. "If
yu wants to corral this here herd of simoleons yu has to ride a cayuse
what Red bet me yu can't ride. Yu has got to grow on that there saddle
and stayed growed for five whole minutes by Buck's ticker. I ain't
a-goin' to tell yu he's any saw-horse, for yu'd know better, as yu
reckons Red wouldn't bet on no losin' proposition if he knowed better,
which same he don't. Yu straddles that four-laigged cloudburst an' yu
gets these, sabe? I ain't seen th' cayuse yet that yu couldn'