Mr. Wilkes wheeled suddenly and stared. "Why, I thought you was half-way
to Wallace's by now!" he exclaimed. "Did you come back to lose that lone
dollar?"

"Oh, I lost that too. But yo're a real smart cuss, now ain't you?"
queried Hopalong, his eyes twinkling and his face wreathed with good
humor. "An' how innocent you act, too. Thought you could scare me,
didn't you? Thought I'd go tearing 'round this fool town like a house
afire, hey? Well, I reckon you can guess again. Now, I'm owning up that
the joke's on me, so you hand over my cayuse, an' I'll make up for lost
time."

Dave Wilkes' face expressed several things, but surprise was dominant.
"Why, I ain't even seen yore ol' cayuse, you chump! Last time I saw it
you was on him, going like the devil. Did somebody pull you off it an'
take it away from you?" he demanded with great sarcasm. "Is somebody
abusing you?"

Hopalong bit into a generous handful of dried apricots, chewed
complacently for a moment, and replied: "'At's aw right; I want my
cayuse." Swallowing hastily, he continued: "I want it, an' I've come to
the right place for it, too. Hand it over, David."

"Dod blast it, I tell you I ain't got it!" retorted Dave, beginning
to suspect that something was radically wrong. "I ain't seen it, an' I
don't know nothing about it."

Hopalong wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "Well, then, Tom or Art does,
all right."