For a moment he stood still and pondered, his head too full of what he had heard to notice that anything out of the ordinary had happened.  Although the evangelist had adopted the wrong method he had gained more than he knew and Hopalong had something to take home with him and wrestle out for himself in spare moments; that is, he would have had but for one thing:  As he slowly looked around for his horse he came to himself with a sharp jerk, and hot profanity routed the germ of religion incubating in his soul.  His horse was missing!  Here was a pretty mess, he thought savagely; and then his expression of anger and perplexity gave way to a flickering grin as the probable solution came to his mind.

“By the Lord, I never saw such a bunch to play jokes,” he laughed.  “Won’t they never grow up?  They was watching me when I went inside an’ sneaked up and rustled my cayuse.  Well, I’ll get back again without much trouble, all right.  They ought to know me better by this time.”

“Hey, stranger!” he called to a man who was riding past, “have you seen anything of a skinny roan cayuse fifteen han’s high, white stocking on the near foreleg, an’ a bandage on the off fetlock, Bar-20 being the brand?”

The stranger, knowing the grinning inquisitor by sight, suspected that a joke was being played:  he also knew Dave Wilkes and that gentleman’s friends.  He chuckled and determined to help it along a little.  “Shore did, pardner; saw a man leading him real cautious.  Was he yourn?”

“Oh, no; not at all.  He belonged to my great-great-grandfather, who left him to my second cousin.  You see, I borrowed it,” he grinned, making his way leisurely towards the general store, kept by his friend Dave, the joker.  “Funny how everybody likes a joke,” he muttered, opening the door of the store.  “Hey, Dave,” he called.

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.”