ON THE PEAK
Hopalong Cassidy had the most striking personality of all the men in
his outfit; humorous, courageous to the point of foolishness, eager
for fight or frolic, nonchalant when one would expect him to be quite
otherwise, curious, loyal to a fault, and the best man with a Colt in
the Southwest, he was a paradox, and a puzzle even to his most
intimate friends. With him life was a humorous recurrence of
sensations, a huge pleasant joke instinctively tolerated, but not
worth the price cowards pay to keep it. He had come onto the range
when a boy and since that time he had laughingly carried his life in
his open hand, and although there had been many attempts to snatch it
he still carried it there, and just as recklessly.
Quick in decisions and quick to suspect evil designs against him and
his ranch, he was different from his foreman, whose temperament was
more optimistic. When Buck had made him foreman of the line riders he
had no fear that Meeker or his men would take many tricks, for his
faith in Hopalong's wits and ability was absolute. He had such faith
that he attended to what he had to do about the ranch house and did
not appear on the line until he had decided to call on Meeker and put
the question before him once and for all. If the H2 foreman did not
admit the agreement and promise to abide by it then he would be told
to look for trouble.
While Buck rode towards Lookout Peak, Hopalong dismounted at the line
house perched on its top and found Red Connors seated on the rough
bench by the door. Red, human firebrand both in hair and temper, was
Hopalong's loyal chum--in the eyes of the other neither could do
wrong. Red was cleaning his rifle, the pride of his heart, a
wicked-shooting Winchester which used the Government cartridge
containing seventy grains of powder and five hundred grains of lead.
With his rifle he was as expert as his friend was with the Colt, and
up to six hundred yards, its limit with accuracy, he could do about
what he wished with it.
"Hullo, you," said Red, pleasantly. "You looks peevish."
"An' you look foolish. What you doing?"
"Minding my business."
"Hard work?" sweetly asked Hopalong, carelessly seating himself on the
small wooden box which lay close to his friend.
"Hey, you!" cried Red, leaping up and hauling him away. "You bust them
sights an' you'll be sorry! Ain't you got no sense?"
"Sights? What are you going to do with 'em?"
"Wear 'em 'round my neck for a charm! What'd you reckon I'd do with
'em!"
"Didn't know. I didn't think you'd put 'em on that thing," Hopalong
replied, looking with contempt at his friend's rifle. "Honest, you
ain't a-goin' to put 'em on that lead ranch, are you? You're like th'
Indians--want a lot of shots to waste without re-loadin'."
"I ain't wasting no shots, an' I'm going to put sights on that lead
ranch, too. These old ones are too coarse," Red replied, carefully
placing the box out of danger. "Now you can sit down."
"Thanks; please can I smoke?"
Red grunted, pushed down the lever of the rifle, and began to
re-assemble the parts, his friend watching the operation. When Red
tried to slip the barrel into its socket Hopalong laughed and told him
to first draw out the magazine, if he wanted to have any success.
The line foreman took a cartridge from the pile on the bench and
compared it with one which he took from his belt, a huge, 45-caliber
Sharps special, shooting five hundred and fifty grains of lead with
one hundred and twenty grains of powder out of a shell over three
inches long; a cartridge which shot with terrific force and for a
great distance, the weight of the large ball assuring accuracy at long
ranges. Beside this four-inch cartridge the Government ammunition
appeared dwarfed.
"When are you going to wean yoreself from popping these musket caps,
Red?" he asked, tossing the smaller cartridge away and putting his own
back in his belt.
"Well, you've got gall!" snorted Red, going out for his cartridge.
Returning with it he went back to work on his gun, his friend laughing
at his clumsy fingers.
"Yore fingers are all thumbs, an' sore at that."
"Never mind my fingers. Have you seen Johnny around?"
"Yes; he was watching one of them new H2 Greasers. He'll go off th'
handle one of these days, for he hates Greasers worse'n I do, an' that
coffee face'll drive him to gun-play. He reminds me a whole lot of a
bull-pup chained with a corral-ful of cats when there's Greasers
around."
Red laughed and nodded. "Where's Lanky?"
"Johnny said he was at Number Four fixin' that saddle again. He ain't
done nothin' for th' last month but fix it. Purty soon there won't be
none of it left to fix."
"There certainly won't!"
"His saddle an' yore gun make a good pair."
"Let up about the gun. You can't say nothin' more about it without
repeatin' yoreself."
"It's a sawed-off carbine. I'd ruther have a Spencer any day."
"You remind me a whole lot of a feller I once knowed," Red retorted.
"That so?" asked Hopalong, suspiciously. "Was he so nice?"
"No; he was a fool," Red responded, going into the house.
"Then that's where you got it, for they say it's catching."
Red stuck his head out of the door. "On second thought you remind me
of another feller."
"You must 'a knowed some good people."
"An' he was a liar."
"Hullo, Hop Wah!" came from the edge of the hilltop and Hopalong
wheeled to see Skinny Thompson approaching.
"What you doing?" Skinny asked, using his stock question for beginning
a conversation.
"Painting white spots on pink elephants!"
"Where's Red?"
"In th' shack, rubbin' 'em off again."
"Johnny chased that Greaser off'n th' ranch," Skinny offered,
grinning.
"Good for him!" cried Hopalong.
"Johnny's all right--here comes Buck," Red said, coming out of the
house. "Johnny's with him, too. Hullo, Kid!"
"Hullo, Brick-top!" retorted Johnny, who did not like his nickname. No
one treated him as anything but a boy and he resented it at times.
"Did he chase you far?" Hopalong queried.
"I'd like to see anybody chase me!"
Buck smiled. "How are things down here?"
Hopalong related what had occurred and the foreman nodded. "I'm going
down to see Meeker--he's th' only man who can tell me what we're to
look for. I don't want to keep so many men down here. Frenchy has got
all he can handle, an' I want somebody up in Two. So long."
"Let me an' Red go with you, Buck," cried Hopalong.
"Me, too!" exclaimed Johnny, excitedly.
"You stay home, an' don't worry about me," replied the foreman, riding
off.
"I don't like to see him go alone," Hopalong muttered. "He may get a
raw deal down there. But if he does we'll wipe 'em off'n th' earth."
"Mamma! Look there!" softly cried Johnny, staring towards the other
side of the plateau, where Mary Meeker rode past. Red and Skinny were
astonished and Johnny and Hopalong pretended to be; but all removed
their sombreros while she remained in sight. Johnny was watching
Hopalong's face, but when Red glanced around he was staring over the
hill.
"Gosh, ain't she a ripper!" he exclaimed softly.
"She is," admitted Skinny. "She shore is."
Hopalong rubbed his nose reflectively and turned to Red. "Did you ever
notice how pretty a freckle is?"
Red stared, for he had only toleration for the fair sex, and his
friend continued:
"Take a purty girl an' stick a freckle on her nose an' it sort of
takes yore breath."
Red grinned. "I ain't never took a purty girl an' stuck a freckle on
her nose, so I can't say."
Hopalong flushed at the laughter and Skinny cried, joyously: "She's
got two of us already! Meeker's got us licked if he'll let her show
herself once in a while. Oh, these young fellers! Nothing can rope
'em so quick as a female, an' th' purtier she is th' quicker she can
do it."
A warning light came into Hopalong's eyes. "Nobody in this outfit'll
go back on Buck for all th' purty women in th' world!"
"Good boy!" thought Johnny.
"We've got to watch th' Kid, just th' same," laughed Skinny.
"I'll knock yore head off!" cried Johnny. "You're sore 'cause you know
you ain't got no chance with women while me an' Hoppy are around!"
Red looked critically at Hopalong and snickered. "If we've got to look
like him to catch th' women, thank God we don't want 'em!"
"Is that so!" retorted Hopalong.
"Say," drawled Skinny. "Wouldn't th' Kid look nice hobbled with
matrimony? That is, after he grows up."
"You go to th' devil!"
"Gee, Kid, you look bloodthirsty," laughed Red. "You can fool them
Greasers easy if you looks like that."
"You go to," Johnny retorted, swinging into the saddle. "I'm going
along th' line to see what's loose."
"I'll lick you when I see you again!" shouted Red, grinning.
Johnny turned and twirled his fingers at his red-haired friend. "Yah,
you ain't man enough!"
"Johnny's gettin' more hungry for a fight every day," Hopalong
remarked. "He's itching for one."
"So was you a few years back, an' you ain't changed none," replied
Red. "You used to ride around looking for fights."
"To hear you talk, anybody'd think you was a Angel of Peace," Hopalong
retorted.
"One's as bad as th' other, so shut up," Skinny remarked, going into
the house for a drink.