“Hanged if I can tell—I've heard it somewhere, that's all.”
“Well, I don't care what it means. This is a frame-up so that coyote can get away. I'll bet they gave him a cayuse an' started him off while we've been losing time in here. I'm going inside an' ask some questions.”
Before he could put his plan into execution, Hopalong nudged him and he turned to see his friend staring at one of the doors. There had been no sound, but he would swear that a monk stood gravely regarding them, and he rubbed his eyes. He stepped back suspiciously and then started forward again.
“Look here, stranger,” he remarked, with quiet emphasis, “we're after that cow-lifter, an' we mean to get him. Savvy?”
The monk did not appear to hear him, so he tried another tack. “Habla Espanola?” he asked, experimentally.
“You have ridden far?” replied the monk in perfect English.
“All the way from the Bend,” Red replied, relieved. “We're after Jerry Brown. He tried to kill Johnny, an' near made good. An' I reckon we've treed him, judging from the tracks.”
“And if you capture him?”
“He won't have no more use for no side pocket shooting.”
“I see; you will kill him.”