suggested. Johnny and Billy carried him in the saloon and placed him
by the table, in the chair he had previously vacated. As they stood up
he fell across the table and died.

Billy placed the dead boy's sombrero on his head and laid the
refractory six-shooter on the table. "I wonder who th' dirty killer
was." He looked at the slim figure and started to go out, followed by
Johnny. As he reached the threshold a bullet zipped past him and
thudded into the frame of the door. He backed away and looked
surprised. "That's Shorty's shootin'-he allus misses `bout that much."
He looked out and saw Buck standing behind the live oak that Shorty
had leaned against, firing at the hotel. Turning around he made for
the rear, remarking to Johnny that "they's in th' Houston." Johnny
looked at the quiet figure in the chair and swore softly. He followed
Billy. Cowan, closing the door and taking a buffalo gun from under the
bar, went out also and slammed the rear door forcibly.



CHAPTER III

The Argument

Up the street two hundred yards from the Houston House Skinny and Pete
lay hidden behind a bowlder. Three hundred yards on the other side of
the hotel Johnny and Billy were stretched out in an arroyo. Buck was
lying down now, and Hopalong, from his position in the barn belonging
to the hotel, was methodically dropping the horses of the besieged, a
job he hated as much as he hated poison. The corral was their death
trap. Red and Lanky were emitting clouds of smoke from behind the