"Well, it makes no difference how he got across; he was there, an' that's all I care about."
"There's one of his outfit now," Lanky said.
Hopalong looked around and saw an H2 puncher riding slowly past them, about two hundred yards to the south.
"Who is he?" Lanky asked.
"Doc Riley. Meeker got him an' Curley out of a bad scrape up north an' took them both to punch for him. I hear he is some bad with th' Colt. Sort of reckons he's a whole war-party in breech-cloths an' war-paint just 'cause he's got his man."
"He's gettin' close to th' line," Lanky remarked.
"Yes, because we've been turnin' their cows."
"Reckon he won't stop us none to speak of."
Doc had stopped and was watching them and while he looked a cow blundered out of the brush and started to cross the line. Hopalong spurred forward to stop it, followed by Lanky, and Doc rode to intercept them.
"G'wan back, you bone-yard!" Hopalong shouted, firing his Colt in front of the animal, which now turned and ran back.