n to kill him and show him up as an imitation.
His grievance against Elkins was petty when compared to that against
Ewalt, and he began to force the issue. As he peered over a stranded
log he caught sight of his enemy disappearing into another part of the
thicket, and two of his three shots went home. Elkins groaned with pain
and fear as he realized that his right knee-cap was broken and would
make him slow in his movements. He was lamed for life, even if he did
come out of the duel alive; lamed in the same way that Hopalong was--the
affliction he had made cruel sport of had come to him. But he had plenty
of courage and he returned the fire with remarkable quickness, his two
shots sounding almost as one.

Hopalong wiped the blood from his cheek and wormed his way to a
new place; when half way there he called out again, "How's yore
health--Tex?" in mock sympathy.

Elkins lied manfully and when he looked to get in another shot his enemy
was on the farther bank, moving up to get behind him. He did not know
Hopalong's new position until he raised his head to glance down over the
dried river bed, and was informed by a bullet that nicked his ear. As
he ducked, another grazed his head, the third going wild. He hazarded a
return shot, and heard Hopalong's laugh ring out again.

"Like the story Lucas told, the best shot is going to win out this time,
too," the Bar-20 man remarked, grimly. "You thought a game like this
would give you some chance against a better shot, didn't you? You are a
fool."

"It ain't over yet, not by a damned sight!" came the retort.

"An' you thought you had a little the best of it if you stayed still an'
let me do the moving, didn't you? You'll learn something before I get
through with you: but it'll be too late to do you any good," Hopalong
called, crouched below a hillock of sand so the other could not take
advantage of the words and single him out for a shot.

"You can't learn me nothing, you assassin; I've got my eyes open, this
time." He knew that he had had them open before, and that Hopalong was
in no way an assassin; but if he could enrage his enemy and sting him
into some reflex carelessness he might have the last laugh.

Elkins' retort was wasted, for the sudden and unusual, although a
familiar sound, had caught Hopalong's ear and he was giving all his
attention to it. While he weighed it, his incredulity holding back
the decision his common sense was striving to give him, the noise grew