"Well, Cassidy, got any slugs in you?" affably asked Doc, the man Hopalong had wounded on the line a few weeks before. Doc brandished a knife and cleaning rod and appeared to be anxious to use them on somebody else.
"No; but what do you do with them things?" Hopalong rejoined, feeling of his bandage.
"Take out bullets," Doc grinned.
"Oh, I see; you cut a hole in th' back an' then push 'em right through," Hopalong laughed. "Reckon I'd ruther have 'em go right through without stopping. Who's that calling?"
"Billy an' Curtis. Tell 'em to come up," Buck replied, walking towards the place where Frenchy's body lay.
Hopalong went to the edge and replied to the shouts and it was not long before they appeared. When Doc saw them he grinned pleasantly and drew them aside, trying to coax them to let him repair them. But Billy, eying the implements, sidestepped and declined with alacrity; Curtis was the victim.
"After him th' undertaker," Billy growled, going towards the hut.
CHAPTER XXXVIII
A DISAGREEABLE TASK