"You behave, or I'll get that Greaser to lick you good," threatened Hopalong as he quieted Red Eagle.
"Huh! He don't like fights."
"How do you know?"
"Because my grub is his poison; get a-going."
They cantered eastward, driving back Meeker's cows whenever they were found too close to the line or over it, and it was not long before they made out Lanky riding towards them. He had not yet seen them and Johnny eagerly proposed that they prepare an ambush and scare him.
"He don't scare, you fool," replied Hopalong. "A joke is a joke, but there ain't no use getting shot at when you can't shoot back. No use getting killed for a lark."
"He might shoot, mightn't he," Johnny laughed. "I didn't think about that."
Lanky looked around, waved his hand and soon joined them. "I see yo're taking care of th' Kid, Hopalong. Hullo, Kid."
"Go to blazes!" snorted Johnny.
"Has he been a good boy, Hoppy?"