shore get in th' way of a slug. Yu an' yore gang wants
to browse on th' far side of th' range or yu'll miss a sunrise some
mornin'. Scoot!"

Hopalong turned to his companion and smiled. "What'd he say?" He asked
genially.

"Oh, he jest shot off his mouth a little. They's all no good. I've
collided with lots of them all over this country. They can't face a good
man an' keep their nerve. What'd yu say to th' marshal?"

"I told him what he was an' threw him outen th' street," replied
Hopalong. "In about two weeks we'll have a new marshal an' he'll shore
be a dandy."

"Yes? Why don't yu take th' job yoreself? We're with yu."

"Better man comin'. Ever hear of Buck Peters or Red Connors of th'
Bar-20, Texas?"

"Buck Peters? Seems to me I have. Did he punch fer th' Tin-Cup up in
Montana, 'bout twenty years back?"

"Shore! Him and Frenchy McAllister punched all over that country an'
they used to paint Cheyenne, too," replied Hopalong, eagerly.

"I knows him, then. I used to know Frenchy, too. Are they comin' up
here?"

"Yes," responded Hopalong, struggling with another can while waiting for
the fire to catch up. "Better have some grub with me--don't like to eat
alone," invited the cowboy, the reaction of his late rage swinging him
to the other extreme.

When their tobacco had got well started at the close of the meal and
content had taken possession of them Hopalong laughed quietly and
finally spoke:

"Did yu ever know Aristotle Smith when yu was up in Montana?"

"Did I! Well, me an' Aristotle prospected all through that country till
he got so locoed I had to watch him fer fear he'd blow us both up. He
greased th' fryin' pan with dynamite one night, an' we shore had to eat
jerked meat an' canned stuff all th' rest of that trip. What made yu
ask? Is he comin' up too?"

"No, I reckons not. Jimmy, th' bartender, said that he cashed in up
at Laramie. Wasn't he th' cuss that built that boat out there on th'
Arizona desert because he was scared that a flood might come? Th' sun
shore warped that punt till it wasn't even good for a hencoop."

"Nope. That was Sister--Annie Tompkins. He was purty near as bad as
Aristotle, though. He roped a puma up on th' Sacramentos, an' didn't
punch no more fer three weeks. Well, here comes my pardner an' I reckons
I'll amble right along. If yu needs any referee or a side pardner in any
ruction yu has only got to warble up my way. So long."

The next ten days passed quietly, and on