When they had gone Hopalong wheeled to look for Johnny and saw him crawling out of a chaparral, dragging a rifle after him. He capered about, waving the rifle and laughing with joy and Hopalong had to laugh with him. When they were rid of the surplus of the merriment Johnny patted the rifle. "Reckon they was shore up against a marked deck that time! Did you see 'em stiffen when I warbled? Acted like they had roped a puma an' didn't know what to do with it. Gee, it was funny!" "You're all right, Kid," laughed Hopalong. "It was yore best play--you couldn't 'a done better." "Shore," replied Johnny. "I had my sights glued to Curley's shirt pocket, an' he'd been plumb disgusted if he'd tried to do what you said he did. I couldn't 'a missed him with a club at that range. I nearly died when you pushed Meeker's girl question up that blind canyon. It was a peach of a throw, all right. Bet he ain't remembered yet that he didn't get no answer to it. We're going to have some blamed fine times down here before everything is settled, ain't we?" "I reckon so, Kid. I'm going to leave you now an' look around by West Arroyo. You hang around th' line." "All right--so long." "Can you catch yore cayuse?" "Shore I can; he's hobbled," came the reply from behind a spur of the chaparral. "_Stand still, you hen!_ All right, Hoppy." Johnny cantered away and, feeling happy, began, singing: Adown th' road, an' gun in hand, Comes Whiskey Bill, mad Whiskey Bill; A-looking for some place to land Comes Whiskey Bill. An' everybody'd like to be Ten miles away behind a tree When on his joyous, achin' spree Starts Whiskey Bill. Th' times have changed since you made love, Oh, Whiskey Bill, oh, Whiskey Bill; Th' happy sun grinned up above At Whiskey Bill. An' down th' middle of th' street Th' sheriff comes on toe-in feet, A-wishing for one fretful peek At Whiskey Bill. Th' cows go grazin' o'er th' lea-- Pore Whiskey Bill, pore Whiskey Bill; An' aching thoughts pour in on me Of Whiskey Bill. Th' sheriff up an' found his stride, Bill's soul went shootin' down th' slide-- How are things on th' Great Divide, Oh, Whiskey Bill? CHAPTER VIII ON THE EDGE OF THE DESERT Thunder Mesa was surrounded by almost impenetrable chaparrals, impenetrable to horse and rider except along certain alleys, but not too dense for a man on foot. These stretched away on all sides as far as the eye could see and made the desolate prospect all the more forbidding. It rose a sheer hundred feet into the air, its sides smooth rock and affording no footing except a narrow, precarious ledge which slanted up the face of the southern end, too broken and narrow to permit of a horse ascending, but passable to a man.