Red stirred restlessly. "You must 'a' read my mind," he observed. "You've had a spell off—stay here while I take a rest."
"Stay nothin'!" retorted Johnny. "This ain't our fight, anyhow."
"Somebody's got to stay," objected Red.
"Let Waffles, then," rejoined Johnny. "You don't care if we look around?"
"I'd just as soon stay here as go any place else," said the ex-foreman of the O-Bar-O. "Where you fellers aimin' to go?"
"Over west to cover Hoppy," answered Johnny, remembering that this much was generally known. "He aims to make a dash for th' hotel, an' he's so stubborn nobody can stop him. He says th' fight's been goin' on too long; an' you know how he can use six-guns. To use 'em right he'll have to get plumb close."
"Cussed fool!" snorted Red, arising to his knees. "How can he end it by makin' a dash, an' usin' his short guns? Mebby he's aimin' to put his rope on it an' pull it over, shootin' as they pop out from under!" he sarcastically suggested.
"Mebby; better ask him," replied Johnny. "I did. Mebby you can get it out of him. When he wants to keep his mouth shut, he shore can keep it shut tight. There's no use wastin' our breath on it. He's got some fool scheme in his head an' he's set solid. All we can do is to try to save his fool skin. Waffles can hold down this place till we come back. Come on, Red."
Red grumbled and stretched. "All right. See you later mebby, Waffles."
