"What?" roared Jack Tebbetts, the sheriff, "a ghost? More likely one of Morello's band; I heard they were around here somewhere. But hullo, what's this?"
He broke off as a strange figure came flying down the street, almost as fast as the fear-crazed Chinaman.
"Wow!" yelled the sheriff, drawing an enormous gun as this weird figure came in view, "Halt whar you be, stranger? You're a suspicious character."
Nat, out of breath, wet through, bruised, bleeding and with his clothing almost ripped off him, could not but admit the truth of this remark. But as he opened his mouth to speak a sudden dizziness seemed to overcome him. His knees developed strange hinges and he felt that in another moment he would topple over.
The sheriff stepped quickly forward and caught him.
"Here, hold up, lad," he said crisply, "what's ther trouble?"
"One o'clock. We ought to be hearing from Nat soon."