"Yu needn't git anxious.

If that off buck wasn't so green he'd 'a' had me long ago." "Ya-hoo! Pete! Oh, Pete!" called Hopalong, sticking his head out at one side and grinning as the wondering object of his hail craned his neck to see what the matter was.
"Huh ?" grunted Pete, and then remembering the distance he shouted, "What's th' matter ?" "Got any cigarettes ?" asked Hopalong.
"Yu poor sheep!" said Pete, and turning back to work he drove a .45 into a yellow moccasin.
Hopalong began to itch and he saw that he was near an ant hill.

Then the cactus at his right boomed out mournfully and a hole appeared in it.

He fired at the smoke and a yell informed him that he had made a hit.
"Go 'way!" he complained as a green fly buzzed past his nose.

Then he scratched each leg with the foot of the other and squirmed incessantly, kicking out with both feet at once.