Hopalong Cassidy Sees Red

feelin'.'

'I ain't quittin',' growled Red; 'I ain't got sense enough to quit. Desert or no desert I'm aimin' to do my little gilt-edged blamedest; but I'm admittin' I'll be plumb happy when it's my time off. We'll get supplies an' more canteens from th' Kid tomorrow, an' be fixed so we can foller any other lead that sticks up its head. I shore can stand more than ridin' over a desert if it'll give us anythin' on them fellers.'

'Here we are,' grunted his companion, swinging from the saddle. 'Finest, coldest water you ever drunk. I'm puttin' double hobbles on my cayuse tonight, just to make shore.'

'Me, too,' said Red, dismounting.

In the morning they rode up for a look along the ledge, found that it would answer their requirements and then went southeast, curving further into the desert, and it was not long before Red's roving glance caught something which aroused his interest and he silently rode off to investigate, his companion going slowly ahead. When he returned it was by another way and he rode with his eager eyes searching the desert beneath and ahead of him. Reaching his friend, who had stopped and also was scanning the desert floor with great intentness, he nodded in quiet satisfaction.

'Think you see 'em, too?' he smilingly inquired. 'They're so faint they can't hardly be seen, not till you look ahead, an' then it's only th' difference between this strip of sand that we're on an' th' rest of th' desert. It's a cattle trail, Hoppy; I just found another water-hole, a big one. Th' bank was crowded with hoof marks, cattle an' cayuses. Looks like they come from th' west, bearin' a little north. Th' only reason we didn't see 'em when we rode down was because they was on hard ground. That shore explains th' dead cow.'

'An' in a few hours more,' said his companion, 'this powdery dust will blot 'em out. If they was clearer I'd risk follerin' them, even if we only had a canteen apiece. We can ride as far between waters as they can drive a herd, an' a whole lot farther. It's only fearin' that th' trail will disappear that holds me back.'

'We don't have to risk it yet,' said Red, grimly. 'We've found out where they cut in an' how they start across; an' all we got to do is to lay low up there an' wait for 'em to come back, or start another herd across, to learn who they are.'

'If we wait for their next drive we can foller 'em on a fresh, plain trail, an' be a lot better prepared,' supplemented Hopalong. 'I reckon we're shore goin' to fatten our comeback!'

'It's pickin' up fast,' gloated his friend. 'All we got to do is watch that big water-hole' an' we got 'em. There ain't so many water-holes out on this skillet that they can drive any way they like. We'll camp at th' little one, of course, but we can lay closer to th' big one nights.'

'An' from th' ridge up yonder th' man on day watch can see for miles.'

'Yes; an' fry, an' broil, an' sizzle, an' melt!' muttered Red. 'Blast 'em!'

Hopalong had wheeled and was leading the way into the southwest as straight as he could go for the meeting with Johnny, and Red pushed up past him and bore a little more to the west. They had seen all they needed to see for the day, and they had made up their minds.

At last after a long, hot ride they reached the bluffs marking the side of the plateau and soon were winding down a steep-walled arroyo which led to the plain below, and the country began to change with such insensible gradations that they hardly noticed it. Sage and greasewood became more plentiful and after an hour had passed an occasional low bush was to be seen and the ground sloped more and more in front of them. A low fringe of greenery lay along the distant bottom, where Sand Creek or some other hidden stream came close to the top of the soil, later to issue forth and become the stream into which the Question-Mark's creek later emptied. They crossed this and breasted an opposing slope, followed around the base of a low ridge of hills and at last stopped under a clump of live-oak and cottonwoods in the extreme east end of the Question-Mark valley.

While the two friends were riding toward the little clump of trees west of the Question-Mark ranch visitors rode slowly up to the door of the ranchhouse and one of them dismounted. The shield he wore on his open vest shone in the sun with nickel brightness, but his face was anything but bright. The job which had been cut cut for him was not to his liking and had destroyed his peace of mind, and the peace of mind of the two deputies, who needed no reflection upon their subordinate positions to keep them in the sheriff's rear. What little assurance they might have started with received a jolt soon after they had left town, when a gruff and unmistakably unfriendly voice had asked, with inconsiderate harshness and profanity, their intended destination and their business. At last allowed to pass on after quite some humiliation from the hidden sentries, they now were entering upon the dangerous part of their mission.

Corwin stepped up to the door and knocked, a formality which he never dispensed with on the Question-Mark. Other visitors usually walked right in and found a chair or sat on the table, but it never should be said to Corwin's discredit that an officer of the law was rude and ignorant in such a well-known and long-established form of etiquette. So Sheriff Corwin knocked.

'Come in!' impatiently bawled a loud and rude voice.

The sheriff obeyed and looked around the door casing. 'Ah, hello, Mac,' he said in cheery greeting.

'Mac who?' roared the man at the table.

'McCullough,' said the man at the door, correcting himself. 'How are you?'

'Yo're one full-blooded blame fool of a sheriff,' sneered the trail-boss. 'Where's them two prisoners I been waitin' for?'

'They got away. Somebody helped 'em bust th' jail. I sent word back to you by yore own men.'

'Shore, I got, it; I know that. That's no excuse a-tall!' retorted the trail-boss. 'I went an' sent word down to Twitchell on th' jump that his fool way worked an' that I was goin' to send him th' men he wanted. Then you let 'em bust out of jail! Fine sort of a fool you made of me! Where's yore reward now, that you was spendin' so fast? An' what'll Twitchell say, an' do? He wants th' bank robbers, not excuses; an' more'n all he wanted th' man that shot Ridley. It ain't only a question of per-tectin' th' men workin' for him, but it's personal, too. Ridley was an old friend of his'n—an' he'll raise ned till he gets th' man that killed him. What about it? What have you done since they got away?'

'We trailed 'em, but they lost us,' growled Corwin. 'Reckon they got up on that hard ground an' then lit out, jumpin' th' country as fast as they could. Kane had it on 'em, cold an' proper—but I had my doubts, somehow. I ain't quittin'; I'm watchin' an' layin' back, an' I'm figgerin' on deliverin' th' man that got Ridley.'

'You mean Long an' Thompson are innocent?' demanded McCullough with a throaty growl. 'Yo're sayin' it yoreself! What was you tryin' to run on me, then?'

'They must 'a' robbed th' bank,' replied the sheriff; 'but I got my own ideas about who killed yore friend. This is between us. I'm waitin' till I get th' proof; an' after I get it, an' th' man, I'll mebby have to leave th' country between sunset an' dawn. I ain't no dog, an' I'm gettin' riled.'

'Then it was Kane who cold-decked them two fellers?' demanded McCullough.

'I ain't sayin' a word, now,' replied the sheriff. 'Not yet, I ain't, but I'm aimin' to get th' killer. Where's that Nelson?'

'What you want with him?' asked the trail-boss. 'Reckon he done it?'

'No; he didn't,' answered Corwin. 'He only helped them fellers out of jail, an' I'm goin' to take him in.'

'What?' shouted McCullough, and then burst out laughing. 'I'm repeatin' what I said about you bein' full- blooded! Say, if you can turn that trick I won't raise a hand—not till he's in jail; an' then I'll get him out cussed quick. He's workin' for me, an' he didn't do no crime, gettin' a couple of innocent men out of that mud hut; an', besides, I don't know that he did get 'em out. Go after him, Corwin; go right out after him.' He glanced out of the window again and chuckled. 'I see you brought some of yore official fam'bly along. Shucks! That ain't no way to do, three agin' one. An' I heard you was a bad hombre with a short gun!'

'It ain't no question of how bad I am!' retorted the sheriff. 'We want him alive.'

'Oh, I see; aim to scare him, bein' three to one. All right; go ahead—but there ain't goin' to be no pot- shootin'. Tell yore fam'bly that. I mean it, an' I cut in sudden th' minute any of it starts.'

'There won't be no pot-shootin',' growled the sheriff, and to make sure that there wouldn't be any he stepped out and gave explicit instructions to his companions before going toward the smaller corral. When part way there he heard whistling, wheeled in his tracks and went back to the bunkhouse, hugging the wall as he slipped along it, his gun raised and ready for action.

Johnny turned the corner, caught sight of the two deputies, who held his suspicious attention, and had gone too far to leap back when he saw Corwin flattened against the wall and the sheriff's gun covering him. Presumably safe on a friendly ranch, he had given no thought to any imminent danger, and now he stood and stared at the