Pie immediately became enthusiastic and announced his intention of accompanying Hopalong on his quest, which intention struck that gentleman as highly proper and wise. Then Pie hastily turned and played at chasing coyotes in the direction of the line-house, where he announced that his absence would be accounted for by the fact that he and Hopalong were going on a journey of investigation into the Panhandle. Billy Jordan who shared with Pie the accommodations of the house, objected and showed, very clearly, why he was eminently better qualified to take up the proposed labors than his companions. The suggestions were fast getting tangled up with the remarks, when Pie, grabbing a chunk of jerked beef, leaped into his saddle and absolutely refused to heed the calls of his former companion and return. He rode to where Hopalong was awaiting him as if he was afraid he wasn't going to live long enough to get there. Confiding to his companion that Billy was a “locoed sage hen,” he led the way along the base of the White Sand Hills and asked many questions. Then they turned toward the east and galloped hard. It had been Hopalong's intention to carry out what he had told Red and to go to Big Spring first and thence north along Sulphur Spring Creek, but to this his guide strongly dissented. There was a short cut, or several of them for that matter, was Pie's contention, and any one of them would save a day's hard riding. Hopalong made no objection to allowing his companion to lead the way over any trail he saw fit, for he knew that Pie had been born and brought up in the Panhandle, the Cunningham Lake district having been his back yard, as it were. So they followed the short cut having the most water and grass, and pounded out a lively tattoo as they raced over the stretches of sand which seemed to slide beneath them. “What do yu know about this here business?” Inquired Pie, as they raced past a chaparral and onto the edge of a grassy plain. “Nothin' more'n yu do, only Buck said he thought Slippery Trendley is at th' bottom of it.” “What!” ejaculated Pie in surprise. “Him!” “Yore on. An' between yu an' me an' th' Devil, I wouldn't be a heap surprised if Deacon Rankin is with him, neither.” Pie whistled: “Are him an' th' Deacon pals?” “Shore,” replied Hopalong, buttoning up his vest and rolling a cigarette. “Didn't they allus hang out together! One watched that th' other didn't get plugged from behind. It was a sort of yu-scratch-my-back-an'-I'll-scratch-yourn arrangement.” “Well, if they still hangs out together, I know where to hunt for our cows,” responded Pie. “Th' Deacon used to range along th' headwaters of th' Colorado--it ain't far from Cunningham Lake. Thunderation!” he shouted, “I knows th' very ground they're on--I can take yu to th' very shack!” Then to himself he muttered: “An' that doodlebug Billy Jordan thinkin' he knowed more about th' Panhandle than me!”