.

Hopalong's Decision.
Shortly after noon, Hopalong, who had ridden with his head bowed low in meditation, looked up and slapped his thigh.

Then he looked at Red and grinned.
"Look ahere, Red," he began, "there ain't no rustlers with their headquarters on this God-forsaken sand heap, an' there never was.

They have to have water an' lots of it, too, an' th' nearest of any account is th' Pecos, or some of them streams over in th' Panhandle.

Th' Panhandle is th' best place.