Teddy nodded, and ran to the rear. He returned in a moment with a tin cup full of water and held it to the man’s lips. After drinking deep, the man turned his head from side to side.
“Better now,â€� he declared in a weak voice. Then his eyes caught Teddy’s face. “I know you! Manley—Bard Manley’s son, ain’t you? And—â€� He looked at Roy and a slight grin twisted his mouth. “Well, if this ain’t the beatenest! Bein’ helped by the very guys who—who—â€� he stopped.
“Whose horses you stole?� Teddy finished. “Is that what you mean?�
The man shook his head.
“Not me! I didn’t rustle yore hosses. But what I was goin’ to—to—â€� a fit of coughing wracked his whole frame. Roy tightened the tourniquet slightly, so that the bleeding would not begin again. When the man regained control of himself Teddy gave him another drink, and he grinned his gratitude. Then, for the first time, he noticed the stick of wood entwined in the improvised bandage. He looked at it curiously.
“Where’d you get that?� he asked.
“Guess you know,� Roy declared shortly. “It’s the handle to an 8 X 8 branding iron.�
A flicker of amusement appeared in the man’s eyes. Then he started to laugh. Weakly at first, then louder, until Teddy feared he might be becoming delirious. But in a moment the laughter ceased, to give way to a sardonic smile.
“Ain’t that luck for you?â€� He looked at the stick once more. “Savin’ my life with a rustler’s branding iron! An’ me—I’m the rustler! Can you beat it?â€�
“Never mind that now,� Teddy said. “What were you saying when that cough hit you?�