"I'm a prisoner—of that!" she replied, pointing at Pete.
Hopalong wheeled. "What! What have you been doing to her? Why ain't you in th' house, where you belongs?"
Pete told him, briefly, and he turned to the prisoner, a smile of admiration struggling to get through his frown. She looked at him bravely, for now was the crisis, which she had feared, and welcomed.
"By th' Lord!" he cried, softly. "Yo're a thoroughbred, a fighter from start to finish. But you shouldn't come up here to-day; there's no telling, sometimes, where bullets go after they start." Turning, he said, "Pete, you chump, stay on this side of th' hill an' watch th' house. Billy, lay so you can watch th' door. Red, come with me. An' if anybody gets a shot at them range stealers, shoot to kill. Understand? Shoot to kill—it's time."
"Dynamite?" queried Pete, hopefully. "I'll use it. Cowan—"
Hopalong stared. "Dynamite! Dynamite! We ain't fighting 'em that way, even if they are coyotes. You go an' do what I told you."
"Yes, but—"
"Shut up!" snapped Hopalong. "I know how you feel now, but you'll think different to-morrow."
"Let's swap th' girl for th' house," suggested Skinny, grinning. "It's a shore cinch," he added, winking at Billy, who laughed.
Hopalong wheeled to retort, caught Skinny's eye closing, and laughed instead. "I reckon that would work all right, Skinny. It'd be a good joke on 'em to take th' house back with th' same card they got it by. But this ain't no time for joking. Pete, you better stay here an' watch th' window on this side; Billy, take th' window on th' south side. Skinny can go around west an' Red'll take th' door. They won't be so joyous after they get what's coming their way. This ain't no picnic; shoot to kill. We've been peaceful too blamed long!"