"Hello," she laughed. "I 'm glad to see somebody that's alive in this town. Ain't it awful?"
He instinctively removed his sombrero and was conscious that his habitual bashfulness in the presence of members of her sex was somehow lacking. "Why, I don't see nothin' extra dead about it," he replied. "Most of these towns are this way in daylight. Th' moths ain't out yet. You should 'a' been here last night!"
"Yes? But you 're out; an' you look like you might be able to fly," she replied.
"Yes; I suppose so," he laughed.
"I see you wear two of 'em," she said, glancing at his guns. "Ain't one of them things enough?"
"One usually is, mostly," he assented. "But I 'm pig-headed, so I wears two."
"Ain't it awrful hard to use two of 'em at once?" she asked, her tone flattering. "Then you 're one of them two-gun men I 've heard about, ain't you?"
"An' seen?" he smiled.
"Yes, I 've seen a couple. Where you goin' so early?"
"Just lookin' th' town over," he answered, glancing over her shoulder at a cub of a cowpuncher who had opened the door of the "Retreat," but stopped in his tracks when he saw the couple in front of McCall's. There was a look of surprised interest on the cub's face, and it swiftly changed to one of envious interest. Hopalong's glance did not linger, but swept carelessly along the row of shacks and back to his companion's face without betraying his discovery.