"Well; you can look it over in about ten seconds, from th' outside," she rejoined. "An' it's so dusty out here. My throat is awful dry already."
He had n't noticed any dust in the air, but he nodded. "Yes; thirsty?"
"Well, it ain't polite or ladylike to say yes," she demurred, "but I really am."
He held open the door of the "Palace" and preceded her to the dance hall, where she rippled the keys of the old piano as she swept past it. The order given and served, he sipped at his glass and carried on his share of a light conversation until, suddenly, he arose and made his apologies. "I got to attend to something" he regretted as he picked up his sombrero and turned. "See you later."
"Why!" she exclaimed. "I was just beginnin' to get acquainted!"
"A moth without money ain't no good," he smiled. "I 'm goin' out to find th' money. When I 'm in good company I like to spend. See you later?" He bowed as she nodded, and departed.
Emerging from McCall's he glanced at the "Retreat" and sauntered toward it. When he entered he found the cub resting his elbows on the pine bar, arguing with the bartender about the cigars sold in the establishment. The cub glanced up and appealed to the newcomer. "Ain't they?" he demanded.
Hopalong nodded. "I reckon so. But what is it about?"
"These cigars," explained the cub, ruefully. "I was just sayin' there ain't a good one in town."
"You lose," replied Hopalong. "Are you shore you knows a good cigar when you smokes it?"