Smiling at the boy's independence, Thomas asked:
"Have you got it?"
Before Bob could answer, the ranchman interposed:
"Looks like it, don't it? First he won my—I mean his—dog, and then he won me. Yes, Hal, Bob's landed and you can tell Ned Higgins from me that if he tries to put up any more jokes on Bob, I'll fix him so he can't speak for a year."
"All right, John," smiled the agent. "But I reckon he won't try any more!"
So significant was the agent's tone that Bob inquired anxiously:
"You didn't do anything to him for sending me to Mr. Ford, did you, Hal?"
"No, not much," returned Thomas grimly. Yet had he told the entire truth he would have said he had administered such a beating to the practical joker, upon learning where he had sent Bob, as Fairfax had never seen given by one man to another.
"Won't you come in?" asked the ranchman.
"No, thanks. Can't stop. Got to get back for a train. Here, Bob, come and mount Firefly. He's yours."