t hurriedly. "The others ain't no good; I choked on the very
first screw. Why, I wouldn't hurt you for the world," Hopalong assured
him, gazing interestedly down the twin tunnels.

Johnny leaned over a nail keg and loosed the shot and screws into it,
smiling with childlike simplicity as he listened to the tintinnabulation
of the metal shower among the nails. "It _does_ drop when you let go of
it," he observed.

"Didn't I tell you it would? I allus said so," replied Hopalong, looking
back to the clerk and the shotgun. "Didn't I, stranger?"

The clerk's reply was a guttural rumbling, ninety per cent profanity,
and Hopalong, nodding wisely, picked up two wedges. "Johnny, here's yore
gun. If this man will stop talking to hisself and drop that lead-sprayer
long enough to take our good money, we'll wear em."

He tossed a gold coin on the table, and the clerk, still holding tightly
to the shotgun, tossed the coin into the cash box and cautiously
slid the change across the counter. Hopalong picked up the money and,
emptying his holster into the nail keg, followed his companion to
the street, in turn followed slowly by the suspicious clerk. The door
slammed shut behind them, the bolt shot home, and the clerk sat down on
a box and cogitated.

Hopalong hooked his arm through Johnny's and started down the street. "I
wonder what that feller thinks about us, anyhow. I'm glad Buck sent Red
over to El Paso instead of us. Won't he be mad when we tell him all the
fun we've had?" he asked, grinning broadly.

They were to meet Red at Dent's store on the way back and ride home
together.

They were strangely clad for their surroundings, the chaps glaringly out
of place in the Seaman's Port, and winks were exchanged by the regular
_habitues_ when the two punchers entered the room and called for drinks.
They were very tired and a little under the weather, for they had made
the most of their time and spent almost all of their money; but any one
counting on robbing them would have found them sober enough to look out
for themselves. Night had found them ready to go to the hotel, but on
the way they felt that they must have one more bracer, and finish their
exploration of Jeremiah T. Jones' tabooed section. The town had begun to
grow wearisome and they were vastly relieved when they realized that the
rising sun would see them in the saddle and homeward bound, headed for
God's country, which was the only place for cow-punchers after all.