Hopalong explained the meeting and his friend laughed again:
“Why, she knows this country like a book. She can't get lost anywhere around here. But she's blame clever at catching punchers.”
“Well, I reckon I'd better take her, go broke or not,” replied Hopalong. “Is she in her room?”
“She is, but she is not alone,” responded the clerk. “There is a dude puncher up there with her and she left word here that she was indisposed, which means that you are outlawed.”
“Who is he?” Asked Hopalong, having his suspicions. “That friend of yours: Ewalt. He sported a wad this morning when she passed him, and she let him make her acquaintance. He's another easy mark. He'll be busted wide open to-night.”
“I reckon I'll see Tex,” suggested Hopalong, starting for the stairs.
“Come back, you chump!” cried the clerk. “I don't want any shooting here. What do you care about it? Let her have him, for it's an easy way out of it for you. Let him think he's cut you out, for he'll spend all the more freely. Get your crowd and enlighten them—it'll be better than a circus. This may sound like a steer, but it's straight.”
Hopalong thought for a minute and then leaned on the cigar case:
“I reckon I'll take about a dozen of yore very best cigars, Charley. Got any real high-toned brands?”
“Cortez panatella—two for a simoleon,” Chancy replied. “But, seein' that it's you, I'll throw off a dollar on a dozen. They're a fool notion of the old man, for we can't sell one in a month.”