proudly guaranteed would show more ghosts per drink than any liquor
south of the Rio Grande--and some of his patrons were eager to back up
his claims with real money.

This was the condition of affairs when Hopalong Cassidy strolled into
Cowan's and forgot his thirst in the story being told by a strange
Mexican. It was Johnny's ghost, without a doubt, and when he had
carelessly asked a few questions he was convinced that Johnny had really
seen something. On the way home he cogitated upon it and two points
challenged his intelligence with renewed insistence: the ghost showed
itself only on Friday, and then only to "Greasers." His suspicious mind
would not rest until he had reviewed the question from all sides, and
his opinion was that there was something more than spiritual about the
ghost of the San Miguel--and a cold, practical reason for it.

When he rode into the corral at the ranch he saw that another sign had
been put on the corral wall. He had destroyed the first, speaking his
mind in full at the time. He swept his gloved hand upward with a rush,
tore the flimsy board from its fastenings, broke it to pieces across
his saddle, and tossed the fragments from him. He was angry, for he had
warned the outfit that they were carrying the joke too far, that Johnny
was giving way to hysterical rage more frequently, and might easily do
something that they all would regret. And he felt sorry for the Kid; he
knew what Johnny's feelings were and he made up his mind to start a few
fights himself if the persecution did not cease. When he stepped into
the bunk house and faced his friends they listened to a three-minute
speech that made them squirm, and as he finished talking the deep voice
of the foreman endorsed the promises he had just heard made, for Buck
had entered the gallery without being noticed. The joke had come to an
end.