As he entered the door a handful of empty shells fell on his hat and dropped to the floor. He shook his head and remarked, “That mus' be that fool Hopalong.” “Yore shore right. How's business?” inquired the festive Cassidy. “Purty fair. Billy's got one. How many's gone?” “Buck's got three, I got two and Skinny's got one. That's six, an' Billy is seven. They's five more,” he replied. “How'd yu know?” queried Johnny as he filled his flask at the horse trough. “Because they's twelve cayuses behind the hotel. That's why.” “They might git away on 'em,” suggested the practical Johnny. “Can't. They's all cashed in.” “Yu said that they's five left,” ejaculated the puzzled water carrier. “Yah; yore a smart cuss, ain't yu?” Johnny grinned and then said, “Got any smokin'?” Hopalong looked grieved. “I ain't no store. Why don't yu git generous and buy some?” He partially filled Johnny's hand, and as he put the sadly depleted bag away he inquired, “Got any papers?” “Nope.” “Got any matches?” he asked cynically. “Nope.” “Kin yu smoke 'em?” he yelled, indignantly. “Shore nuff,” placidly replied the unruffled Johnny. “Billy wants some .45-70's.” Hopalong gasped. “Don't he want my gun, too?” “Nope. Got a better one. Hurry up, he'll git mad.” Hopalong was a very methodical person. He was the only one of his crowd to carry a second cartridge strap. It hung over his right shoulder and rested on his left hip. His waist belt held thirty cartridges for the revolvers. He extracted twenty from that part of the shoulder strap hardest to get at, the back, by simply pulling it over his shoulder and plucking out the bullets as they came into reach. “That's all yu kin have. I'm Buck's ammernition jackass,” he explained. “Bet yu ten we gits 'em afore dark”--he was hedging. “Any fool knows that. I'll take yu if yu bets th' other way,” responded Johnny, grinning. He knew Hopalong's weak spot. “Yore on,” promptly responded Hopalong, who would bet on anything. “Well, so long,” said Johnny as he crawled away. “Hey, yu, Johnny!” called out Hopalong, “don't yu go an' tell anybody I got any pills left. I ain't no ars'nal.” Johnny replied by elevating one foot and waving it. Then he disappeared. Behind the store, the most precarious position among the besiegers, Red Connors and Lanky Smith were ensconced and commanded a view of the entire length of the barroom. They could see the dark mass they knew to be the rear door and derived a great amount of amusement from the spots of light which were appearing in it. They watched the “C” (reversed to them) appear and be completed. When the wobbly “H” grew to completion they laughed heartily. Then the hardwood bar had been dragged across the field of vision and up to the front windows, and they could only see the indiscriminate holes which appeared in the upper panels at frequent intervals.