Then he stuck his head out of the window and grinned at the false covers with their prominent bull's-eyes.
"When that prize-winnin' gang of ossified idiots runs up agin' these fortifications they shore will be disgusted.

I'll bet four dollars an' seven cents they'll think their medicine-man's no good.

I hopes that puff-eyed marshal will pick out that hump with th' chip on it," and he hugged himself in anticipation.
He then cut down a sapling and fastened it to the roof and on it he tied his neckerchief, which fluttered valiantly and with defiance in the light breeze.

"I shore hopes they appreciates that," he remarked whimsically, as he went inside the hut and closed the door.
The early part of the evening passed in peace, and Hopalong, tired of watching in vain, wished for action.

Midnight came, and it was not until half an hour before dawn that he was attacked.