“All right—he knowed how he'd finish when he began. Now for that dear Mr. Harlan,” Buck replied, vaulting into the saddle. He turned and looked at Hopalong, and his wonder grew. “Hey, you! Yes, you! Come out of that an' put on yore lid! Straddle leather—we can't stay here all night.”
Hopalong started, looked at his sombrero and silently obeyed. As they rode down the trail and around a corner he turned in his saddle and looked back; and then rode on, buried in thought.
Billy, grinning, turned and playfully punched him in the ribs. “Getting glory, Hoppy?”
Hopalong raised his head and looked him steadily in the eyes; and Billy, losing his curiosity and the grin at the same instant, looked ahead, whistling softly.
CHAPTER XVII
EDWARDS' ULTIMATUM
Edwards slid off the counter in Jackson's store and glowered at the pelting rain outside, perturbed and grouchy. The wounded man in the corner stirred and looked at him without interest and forthwith renewed his profane monologue, while the proprietor, finishing his task, leaned back against the shelves and swore softly. It was a lovely atmosphere.
“Seems to me they've been gone a long time,” grumbled the wounded man. “Reckon he led 'em a long chase—had six hours' start, the toad.” He paused and then as an afterthought said with conviction: “But they'll get him—they allus do when they make up their minds to it.”
Edwards nodded moodily and Jackson replied with a monosyllable.