There!" he exploded. "There goes th' shootin'-match off th' hoss. Th' wind'll blow 'em ashore an' we can pick up th' whole caboodle."
"Wind?" jeered the snake-enumerator. "Where's th' wind? Yo're a fool!"
"On th' bank, where yo're settin', you thick-headed ass!” yelled Jud. "You got so cussed much to say, suppose you muddy yore lily-white pants an' do somethin' besides bray!”
"Did you spill any of 'em, Jud?" anxiously asked a voice. "I heard a splash."
Jud's reply was such that the trail-boss snapped a warning which checked some of the conversation, and promised his help. "Wait for me, Jud; I'm comin'," he said.
"Why don't you send that white-washed idol?" asked Jud. "I'll show him who's th' fool; an' what a splash sounds like!"
Hopalong nudged his companion and they crept forward, feeling before them for anything which might make a sound if stepped on. A vibrant whir! made them spring back and go around the warning snake, and soon they reached the little, sandy ridge which had sheltered Hopalong on his other visit.
"I'm glad you hung on to what you had, Jud," came Thorpe's thankful voice as his match caught the sun-baked wood and sent a tiny flame licking upward among the shavings whittled by his knife. "What you do you allus do right. It's dry as a bone."
"An' so am I," grunted the horse wrangler. "Who's got their canteen?"
"He's askin' for a canteen, with th' whole pond in
