Hopalong's shrewd glance looked him over. "What did this gent do?" he asked, and he would not be evaded.
"Oh, he insulted a nice li'l girl, an' I 'm in a hurry."
"G'way!" exclaimed Johnny. "That straight?"
"Too d—n straight," snapped Sammy. "He went an' bruised her wrists an' made her cry."
"Lead th' way, Kid," rejoined Johnny, readjusting his belt. "Mebby he 's got some friends," he suggested, hopefully.
"Yes," smiled Hopalong, "mebby he has. An' anyhow, Sammy; you know yo're plumb careless with that gun. You might miss him. Lead th' way."
As they started toward Pete's Johnny nudged his bunkmate in the ribs: "Say; she ain't got no sisters, has she?" he whispered.
One hour later Sammy, his face slightly scratched, lounged into the kitchen and tossed his sombrero on a chair, grinning cheerfully at the flushed, saucy face that looked out from under a mass of rebellious, brown hair. "Well, I saw th' boss, an' I come back to make everythin' well again," he asserted, laughing softly. "That rough an' boisterous Mr. Clarke has sloped. He won't come back no more."
"Why, Sammy!" she cried, aghast. "What have you done?"
"Well, for one thing, I 've got you callin' me Sammy," he chuckled, trying to sneak a hand over hers. "I told th' boss I 'm goin' to get a job up here, so I 'll know Mr. Clarke won't come back. But you know, he only thought he was bad. I shore had to take his ol' gun away from him so he would n't go an' shoot hisself, an' when las' seen he was feelin' for his cayuse, intendin' to leave these parts. That's what I done," he nodded, brightly. "Now comes what I 'm goin' to do. Oh, Li'l Miss," he whispered, eagerly. "I 'm jus' all mixed up an' millin'. My own feet plumb get in my way. So I jus' gotta stick aroun' an' change yore name, what you don't like. Uh-huh; that's jus' what I gotta do," he smiled.