The next instant a red-faced, short, stout, bald-headed man was nearly pulling Nat from his horse.
"Hello, Uncle Morris!" called Nat. "How are you?"
"Fine as silk. How about you?"
"Never better," replied Nat "Here fellows, this is Uncle Morris.
That's Jack and that's John," he added, with a wave of his hand.
"Howdy!" exclaimed Mr. Kent heartily, shaking hands with his nephew's companions. "I'd been able to pick you out in the dark from the description Nat gave. Come on in, grub's almost ready."
"Will you speak to him about the old man?" asked Jack of Nat, in a low voice.
"Oh, yes, sure," and Nat told his uncle in a few words of the wounded one, and Jack's desire to have him brought in.
"I'll send some of the men in the wagon," Mr. Kent said.
"Let me go also," Jack begged, and, after some talk it was arranged he was to go with Jim and another cowboy.
"But you must have supper first," said Mr. Kent. "I insist on that. Besides it's going to be a warm night, and, according to your tale, you left the stranger pretty comfortable. What do you think about him, Jim?"