of face told of the fear that gripped him. "I 'll take my time, right now," growled Barnes. "D—d if I works another day for a low-lived coyote that 'd do a thing like that!" The punchers behind him joined in and demanded their wages. Hopalong, still smiling, waved his hand and spoke. "Don't leave him with all these cows on his hands, out here on th' range. If you quits him, wait till you get to Sandy Creek. He ain't no man, he ain't; he 's a nasty lil brat of a kid that could n't never grow up into a man. So, that bein' true, he ain't goin' to get handled like a man. I 'm goin' to lick him, 'stead of shootin' him like he was a man. You know," he smiled, glancing around the little circle, "us cowpunchers don't never carry guns. We don't swear, nor wear chaps, even if all of us has got 'em on right now. We say 'please' an' 'thank you' an' never get mad. Not never wearin' a gun I can't shoot him; but, by G—d, I can lick him th' worst he's ever been licked, an' I 'm goin' to do it right now." He wheeled to start after the still-backing cowman, and leaped sideways as a cloud of
