human
Every time I hit a head I shore gloat,
gpt
Couldn't you send _him_ down, _too_? Idaho asked of Hopalong.
human
An' how many saddles do you an' Red use generally?
gpt
He wasn't up there, answered Hopalong.
human
We run into him as we was comin' out.
gpt
Corwin! he exulted.
human
An' I'm glad it was _me_ that hit him!
gpt
Didn't I _say_ it was a lovely night? Holy mavericks!
human
You fellers aim to claim squatter sovereignty? whispered Red from the darkness.
gpt
If I'd 'a' knowed it I'd 'a' tied up somethin' I left layin' loose.
human
We got to get a rustle on, said Hopalong.
gpt
Some cusses come to right quick. That gent in Red's bed is due to ask a lot of questions at th' top of his voice. Come on--grab this stuff, _pronto_!
human
I left another in th' stable that's goin' to do some yellin' purty soon, said Red.
gpt
Reckon he's a Greaser.
human
Hey! Where's _mine_?
gpt
Here, at my feet,
human
This ain't it, you blunderin' jackass! Why didn't you get _mine_?
gpt
Feel of this one,
human
That's it. Who's th' other belong to?
gpt
answered Johnny, growing peeved.
human
Yo're cussed particular, you are! Here's two rifles, two six-guns, an' two belts. Take 'em with you an' pick out yore own when it gets light. _I_ don't want 'em.
gpt
Got mine. Chuck th' other away.
human
Take it along an' chuck it in th' crick, said Idaho.
gpt
Now you fellers listen: If you ride up th' middle of Big Crick till you come to that rocky ground west of our place you can leave th' water there, an' yore trail will be lost. It runs southwest an' northeast for miles, an' is plenty wide an' wild. If you need any thin' ride in to our place any night after dark. I'll post th' boys.
human
We ain't got a bit of grub, growled Red.
gpt
Well, it ain't th' first time,
human
We're not goin' up Big Crick, said Hopalong, decisively.
gpt
We're ridin' like we wanted to get plumb out of this country, which is just what Bill Long an' Red Thompson would do. When fur enough away we're circlin' back east of town, on th' edge of th' desert, where nobody will hardly think we'd go. They'll suspect that hard ground over yore way before they will th' desert. Where'll we meet you, Kid, if there's any thin' to be told; an' when?