Hopalong Cassidy. Clarence Edward Mulford
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last? I won't stand for it much longer, nohow."
"You'll have to see Buck. I'm obeyin' orders, which are to hold th' line against you, which I'll do."
"H'm!" replied Meeker, and then: "Do you know my girl?"
Hopalong thought quickly. "Why, I've seen her ridin' around some. But why?"
"She says she knows you," persisted Meeker, frowning.
The frown gave Hopalong his cue, but he hardly knew what to say, not knowing what she had said about it.
"Hey, you!" he suddenly cried to Curley. "Keep yore hand from that gun!"
"I didn't—"
"You're lying! Any more of that an' I'll gimlet you!"
"What in h—l are you doing, Curley?" demanded Meeker, the girl question out of his mind instantly. He had been looking closely at Hopalong and didn't know that Curley was innocent of any attempt to use his Colt.
"I tell—"
"Get out of here! I've wasted too much time already. Go home, where that gun won't worry you. You, too, Meeker! Bring an imitation bad-man up here an' sayin' you didn't want my scalp! Flit!"
"I'll go when I'm d——d good and ready!" retorted Meeker, angry again. "You're too blasted bossy, you are!" he added, riding towards the man who had shot Doc.
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