"Don't shoot!" the old man begged in a feeble tone. "I don't mean any harm."
"It's all right," said Rattlesnake Jim, more tenderly than he had yet spoken.
The trip back was made in quick time, and the old man was put in a bed Mr. Kent had ordered gotten ready for him. They were rude but effective doctors, those ranchmen, and, in a little while the stranger had revived considerably. He was suffering mostly from exposure, hunger and loss-of blood from his wound.
The three boys were in the sitting room of the ranch house, taking turns telling Mr. Kent of their experiences on their trip west. Before they knew it the clock had struck twelve.
"Now you must get off to bed," said Nat's uncle. "We'll have more time for swapping yarns to-morrow."
At that moment a man poked his had in at the door.
"What is it?" asked Mr. Kent
"That party we brought in a while ago, him as is shot in the foot, seems to want something."
"What is it?"
"He says as how he's got to speak to that lad with the strange ring, calls him Roberts."