"Oh, he ’s making good," Red replied. "He said he ’d take a hand if anything busted loose. It’s a good thing he did n’t come to life while me an’ Hoppy was under his windy looking for laigs." "Reckon some of us better go in th’ cars an’ quiet th’ stampede," Skinny remarked, mounting the steps, followed by Hopalong. "They’re shore _loco_." The uproar in the coach ceased abruptly when the two punchers stepped through the door, the inmates shrinking into their seats, frightened into silence. Skinny and his companion did not make a reassuring sight, for they were grimy with burned powder and dust, and Hopalong’s sleeve was stained with Red’s blood. "Oh, my jewels, my pretty jewels," sobbed a woman, staring at Skinny and wringing her hands. "Ma’am, we shore don’t want yore jewelry," replied Skinny, earnestly. "Ca’m yoreself; we don’t want nothin’." "_I_ don’t want that!" growled Hopalong, pushing a wallet from him. "How many times do you want us to tell you we don’t want nothin’? We ain’t robbers; we licked th’ robbers." Suddenly he stooped and, grasping a pair of legs which protruded into the aisle obstructing the passage, straightened up and backed towards Red, who had just entered the car, dragging into sight a portly gentleman, who kicked and struggled and squealed, as he grabbed at the stanchions of seats to stay his progress. Red stepped aside between two seats and let his friend pass, and then leaned over and grasped the portly gentleman’s coat-collar. He tugged energetically and lifted the frightened man clear of the aisle and deposited him across the back of a seat, face down, where he hung balanced, yelling and kicking. "Shut yore face, you cave-hunter!" cried Red in disgust. "Stop that infernal noise! You fat fellers make all yore noise after th’ fighting is all over!" The man on the seat, suddenly realizing what a sight he made, rolled off his perch and sat up, now more angry than frightened. He glared at Red’s grinning face and sputtered: "It’s an outrage! It’s an outrage! I’ll have you hung for this day’s work, young man!" "That’s right," grinned Hopalong. "He shore deserves it. I told him more ’n once that he ’d get strung up some day." "Yes, and you, too!" "Please don’t," begged Hopalong. "I don’t want t’ die!" Tense as the past quarter of an hour had been a titter ran along the car and, fuming impotently, the portly gentleman fled into the smoker. "I ’ll bet he had a six-dollar gun, too," laughed Red. "I ’ll bet he ’s calling hisself names right about now," Hopalong replied. Then he turned to reply to a woman: "Yes, ma’am, we did. But they was n’t real badmen." At this a young woman, who was about as pretty as any young woman could be, arose and ran to Hopalong and, impulsively throwing her arms around his neck, cried: "You brave man! You hero! You dear!" "Skinny! Red! Help!" cried the frightened and embarrassed puncher, struggling to get free.