It was no great matter to fight Indians, that they had done many times and found more or less enjoyment in it; but there was a vast difference between brave and puncher, and the chances of their salvation became very small.

They surmised that it was the work of the cow-men on whom they had preyed and that vengeful punchers lay hidden behind that death-fringe of green willow and hazel.
Red, assisted by his inseparable companion, Hopalong, laboriously climbed up among the branches of a black walnut and hooked one leg over a convenient limb.

Then he lowered his rope and drew up the Winchester which his accommodating friend fastened to it.

Settling himself in a comfortable position and sheltering his body somewhat by the tree, he shaded his eyes by a hand and peered into the windows of the distant cabins.
"How is she, Red ?" Anxiously inquired the man on the ground.
"Bully: want to come up ?" "Nope.

I'm goin' to catch yu when yu lets go," replied Hopalong with a grin.
"Which same I ain't goin' to," responded the man in the tree.
He swung his rifle out over a forked limb and let it settle in the crotch.