the apron, swiftly reaching for his bung-starter.

_Tickety-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic_, the noise went on, and Hopalong, slowly
rolling his eyes, looked at the floor. A screw rebounded and struck his
foot, while shot were rolling recklessly.

"Them's making the noise," Johnny explained after critical survey.

"Hang it! I knowed we ought to 'a' got them wedges!" Hopalong exclaimed,
petulantly, closing the bottom of the sheath. "Why, I won't have no gun
left soon 'less I holds it in." The complaint was plaintive.

"Must be filtering through the stopper," Johnny remarked. "But don't it
sound nice, especially when it hits that brass cuspidor!"

The bartender, grasping the mallet even more firmly, arose on his toes
and peered over the bar, not quite sure of what he might discover. He
had read of infernal machines although he had never seen one. "What the
blazes!" he exclaimed in almost a whisper; and then his face went hard.
"You get out of here, quick! You've had too much already! I've seen
drunks, but--G'wan! Get out!"

"But we ain't begun yet," Hopalong interposed hastily. "You see--"

"Never mind what I see! I'd hate to see what you'll be seeing before
long. God help you when you finish!" rather impolitely interrupted the
bartender. He waved the mallet and made for the end of the counter with
no hesitancy and lots of purpose in his stride. "G'wan, now! Get out!"

"Come on, Johnny; I'd shoot him only we didn't put no powder with the