ratched each leg with the foot of the other and squirmed incessantly,
kicking out with both feet at once. A warning metallic whir-r-r! on his
left caused to yank them in again, and turning his head quickly he the
pleasure of lopping off the head of a rattlesnake with his Colt's.

"Glad yu wasn't a copperhead," he exclaimed. "Somebody had ought 'a'
shot that fool Noah. Blast the ants!" He drowned with a jet of tobacco
juice a Gila monster that was staring at him and took a savage delight
in its frantic efforts to bury itself.

Soon he heard Skinny swear and he sung out: "What's the matter, Skinny?
Git plugged again?"

"Naw, bugs--ain't they mean?" Plaintively asked his friend. "They ain't
none over here. What kind of bugs?"

"Sufferin' Moses, I ain't no bugologist! All kinds!"

But Hopalong got it at last. He had found tobacco and rolled a
cigarette, and in reaching for a match exposed his shoulder to a shot
that broke his collar bone. Skinny's rifle cracked in reply and the
offending brave rolled out from behind a rock. From the fuss emanating
from Hopalong's direction Skinny knew that his neighbor had been hit.

"Don't yu care, Hoppy. I got th' cuss," he said consolingly. "Where'd he
git yu?" he asked.

"In di' heart, yu pie-faced nuisance. Come over here an' corral this
cussed bandage an' gimme some water," snapped the injured man.

Skinny wormed his way through the thorny chaparral and bound up the
shoulder. "Anything else?" he asked.

"Yes. Shoot that bunch of warts an' blow that tobacco-eyed Gila to
Cheyenne. This here's worse than the time we cleaned out th' C 80
outfit!" Then he kicked the dead toad and swore at the sun.

"Close yore yap; yore worse than a kid! Anybody'd think yu never got
plugged afore," said Skinny indignantly.

"I can cuss all I wants," replied Hopalong, proving his assertion as he
grabbed his gun and fired at the dead Indian. A bullet whined above
his head and Skinny fired at the smoke. He peeped out and saw that his
friends were getting nearer to the knoll.

"They's closin' in now. We'll soon be gittin' home," he reported.

Hopalong looked out in time to see Buck make a dash for a bowlder that
lay ten yards in front of him, which he reached in safety. Lanky also
ran in and Pete added five more yards to his advance. Buck made
another dash, but leaped into the air, and, coming down as if from an
intentional high jump, staggered and stumbled for a few paces and then
fell flat, ro