couldn't spread out all over the land he
wouldn't have to keep so many men. Farms would spring up and the sun of
the free-and-easy cowboy would slowly set.

"I reckons th' cutters are classed th' same as rustlers," remarked Red
with a gleam of temper.

"By th' owners, but not by th' punchers; an' it's th' punchers that
count," replied Frenchy.

"Well, we'll give them a fight," interposed Hopalong, riding up. "When
it gets so I can't go where I please I'll start on th' warpath. I won't
buck the cavalry, but I'll keep it busy huntin' for me an' I'll have
time to 'tend to th' wire-fence men, too. Why, we'll be told we can't
tote our guns!"

"They're sayin' that now," replied Frenchy. "Up in Buffalo, Smith, who's
now marshal, makes yu leave 'em with th' bartenders."

"I'd like to see any two-laigged cuss get my guns If I didn't want him
to!" began Hopalong, indignant at the idea.

"Easy, son," cautioned Buck. "Yu would do what th' rest did because yu
are a square man. I'm about as hard-headed a puncher as ever straddled
leather an' I've had to use my guns purty considerable, but I reckons if
any decent marshal asked me to cache them in a decent way, why, I'd
do it. An' let me brand somethin' on yore mind--I've heard of Smith of
Buffalo, an' he's mighty nifty with his hands. He don't stand off an'
tell yu to unload yore lead-ranch, but he ambles up close an' taps yu
on yore shirt; if yu makes a gunplay he naturally knocks yu clean across
th' room an' unloads yu afore yu gets yore senses back. He weighs about
a hundred an' eighty an' he's shore got sand to burn."

"Yah! When I makes a gun play she plays! I'd look nice in Abilene or
Paso or Albuquerque without my guns, wouldn't I? Just because I totes
them in plain sight I've got to hand 'em over to some liquor-wrastler? I
reckons not! Some hip-pocket skunk would plug me afore I could wink. I'd
shore look nice loping around a keno layout without my guns, in th'
same town with some cuss huntin' me, wouldn't I? A whole lot of good a
marshal would a done Jimmy, an' didn't Harris get his from a cur in th'
dark?" shouted Hopalong, angered by the prospect.

"We're talkin' about Buffalo, where everybody has to hang up their
guns," replied Buck. "An' there's th' law--"

"To blazes with th' law!" whooped Hopalong in Red's ear as he
unfastened the cinch of Red's saddle and at the same time stabbing that
unfortunate's mount with his spurs, thereby causing a hasty separation
o