Curses were flung at him and only the humorous mood he was in saved
trouble. One, bolder than the rest, spoke up: "The senor will not see
any `hot-foot get-a-way,' as he calls it, now! The senor was not wise
to go so far away from his friends!"'

Hopalong looked at the speaker and a quizzical grin slowly spread
over his face. "They'll shore feel glad when I tells them yu was
askin' for `em. But didn't yu see too much of `em once, or was yu
poundin' leather in the other direction? Yu don't want to worry none
about me-an' if yu don't get yore hands closter to yore neck they'll
be heck to pay! There, that's more like home," he remarked, nodding
assurance.

Reaching over he grasped a bottle and poured out a drink, his Colt
slipping from his hand and dangling from his wrist by a thong. As the
weapon started to fall several of the audience involuntarily moved as
if to pick it up. Hopalong noticed this and paused with the glass half
way to his lips. "Don't bother yoreselves none; I can git it again,"
he said, tossing off the liquor.

"Wow! Holy smoke!" he yelled. "This ain't drink! Sufferin' coyotes,
nobody can accuse yu of sellin' liquor! Did yu make this all by
yoreself?" He asked incredulously of the proprietor, who didn't know
whether to run or to pray. Then he noticed that the crowd was
spreading out and his Colts again became the center of interest.

"Yu with th' lovely face, sit down!" he ordered as the person
addressed was gliding toward the door. "I ain't a-goin' to let yu pot
me from th' street. Th' first man who tries to get scarce will stop