arroyo. I'm tellin' yu this so yu won't do nothin' rash an' leave
Carmencita a widow. Sabe?"

The hate on the Mexican's face redoubled and he took a short step
forward, but stopped when the muzzle of the Colt kissed his nose. He
was the brother of Tamale Jose. As he backed away from the cool touch
of the weapon he thought out swiftly his revenge. Some of his
brother's old companions were at that moment drinking mescal in a
saloon down the street, and they would be glad to see this Americano
die. He glanced past his house at the saloon and Hopalong misconstrued
his thoughts.

"Shore, go home. I'll just circulate around some for exercise. No
hard feelings, only yu better throw it next time," he said as he
backed away and rode off. Manuel went down the street and then ran
into the saloon, where he caused an uproar.

Hopalong rode to the end of the plaza and tried to sing, but it was
a dismal failure. Then he felt thirsty and wondered why he hadn't
thought of it before. Turning his horse and seeing the saloon he rode
up to it and in, lying flat on the animal's neck to avoid being swept
off by the door frame. His entrance scared white some half a dozen
loungers, who immediately sprang up in a decidedly hostile manner.
Hopalong's Colts peeped over the ears of his horse and he backed into
a corner near the bar.

"One, two, three-now, altogether, breathe! Yu acts like yu never saw
a real puncher afore. All th' same," he remarked, nodding at several
of the crowd, "I've seen yu afore. Yu are th' gents with th' hot-foot
get-a-way that vamoosed when we got Tamale."