“Great Scott!” he breathed. “Is it possible? Are you old Joe?”
“Heap same,” was the curt answer.
In a twinkling Bart dropped the rifle on the table and strode forward to shake the hand of an old friend.
“Old Joe Crowfoot!” he shouted. “Where under the stars did you drop from?”
“Joe he come visit. How, how!”
“Why, you amazing old Nomad!” cried Bart, in delight. “You’re always turning up just when you’re wanted the most, and if ever you were wanted it is now.”
“Frank him not here?”
“No.”
“Joe he want see Frank.”
“If that’s the case, you will have to wait a while.”