Hopalong ducked and swore as he felt of his bleeding face. "Purty close, that!" "Mind what yo're doing!" replied Red. "Get off my hand." "This scrap is shore slow," Hopalong growled. "Here we've been doing this for a whole week, all of us shot up, an' only got two of them fellers." "Well, yo're right; but there ain't a man up there that ain't got a few bullet holes in him," Red replied. "But it is slow, that's shore." "I've got to get a drink, an' that's all about it," Hopalong asserted. "I can crawl in that gully most of th' way, an' then trust a side-hopping dash. Anyhow, I'm tired of this place. Johnny's got th' place for _me_." "You better stay here till it's dark, you fool." "Aw, stay nothing--so long," and Hopalong, rifle in hand, crawled towards the gully. Red watched the mesa intently, hoping to be able to stop some of the firing his rash friend was sure to call forth. Twenty minutes passed and then two puffs of smoke sailed against the sky, Red replying. Then half a dozen puffs burst into sight. A faint shout came to Red's ears and he smiled, for his friend was safe. As Hopalong gained the chaparral he felt himself heartily kicked and, wheeling pugnaciously, looked into Buck Peters' scowling face. "Yo're a healthy fool!" growled the foreman. "Ain't you got no sense at all? Hereafter you flit over that pasture after dark, d'y hear!" "He's th' biggest fool I ever saw, an' th' coolest," said a voice in the chaparral at the left. "Why, hullo, Meeker," Hopalong laughed, turning from Buck. "How do you like our little party now?" "I'm getting tired of it, an' it's some costly for me," grumbled the H2 foreman. "Bet them skunks in Eagle have cleaned out every head I owned." Then he added as an afterthought: "But I don't care a whole lot if I can see this gang wiped out--_Antonio_ is th' coyote _I'm_ itching to stop." "He'll be stopped," replied Hopalong. "Hey, Buck, Red's shore thirsty." "He can stay thirsty, then. An' don't you try to take no water to him. You stay off that pasture during daylight." "But it was all my fault--" Hopalong began, and then he was off like a shot across the open, leaping gullies and dodging around bowlders.