'a' been th' best," he said. "I knowed it; Red knowed it—yet, both plumb shore, an' knowin' it was better, we just couldn't do it. A man's trainin' is a funny thing."
He looked around the little depression and walked toward a patch of sand lying near a mass of stones which had rolled down the slope; and before the evening shadows had reached across the little creek, a heaped-up pile of rocks marked the place of rest of one more weary traveler. At the head, lying on the ground, was a cross made of stones. Why he had placed it there Hopalong could hardly have told, but something within him had stirred through the sleep of busy and heedless years, and he had unthinkingly obeyed it.
He looked up at the sun and found it was time to go on watch again. He had been given no opportunity to sleep, but did not complain, carelessly accepting it as one of the breaks in the game. When he reached his friend, ready to go on duty again, Red looked up at him and scrutinized his face.
"Lots of sleep you must 'a' got," said Red. "How's our patient?"
"Gettin' all th' sleep there is," came the reply. "We was right—both ways."
"Spread yore blanket here," said Red. "I'm stickin' to th' job till you have a snooze. Anyhow, somethin' tells me that two won't be more'n we need out here at night, from now on."
"It's my trick," replied Hopalong, decisively. "Spread yore own blanket."
"Him turnin' up like he did was an accident," retorted Red, "an' accidents are shared between us both. Any-
