A warning metallic whir-r-r! on his left caused to yank them in again, and turning his head quickly he the pleasure of lopping off the head of a rattlesnake with his Colt's.
"Glad yu wasn't a copperhead," he exclaimed.

"Somebody had ought 'a' shot that fool Noah.

Blast the ants!" He drowned with a jet of tobacco juice a Gila monster that was staring at him and took a savage delight in its frantic efforts to bury itself.
Soon he heard Skinny swear and he sung out: "What's the matter, Skinny?
Git plugged again ?" "Naw, bugs--ain't they mean ?" Plaintively asked his friend.

"They ain't none over here.

What kind of bugs ?" "Sufferin' Moses, I ain't no bugologist! All kinds!" But Hopalong got it at last.