"Came right on time, too! Zip Foster couldn't 'a' made it better!" joyously declared Bud, clapping his palm into that of Nort.
"Haven't you run him off the ranch yet?" asked the other lad, who was rather short and stout, not to say fat.
"Run who off?" asked Bud.
"Zip Foster!" repeated Dick. "Last I heard of him——"
"Never mind him!" and Bud seemed somewhat annoyed at having mentioned the name. "Oh, but I'm glad you fellows are here! Have a good trip? Are you hungry? Did you have grub enough? Can you ride right out now? How's everybody at my house?"
Nort looked at his western cousin, and then, with a deliberate motion pretended to mop his face free of some imaginary perspiration, brought out by the rapid-fire questions on his cousin's part.
"Say! Go a bit easy, will you, Bud?" he begged. "One at a time! Line forms on this side!"
"We're going right out with you, and everybody's fine!" answered Dick, summing up matters. "Your father said we were to ride out and meet you here at the water-hole. We've got as much of our outfits as we'll need for a few days, and so let's mosey along. Oh, but it's great to be back out west!"'
"You got off a ripe one that time!" agreed Nort. "Who's that up there?" he asked, pointing to the figure of a solitary horseman on the hill down which Bud had ridden.
"Looks like Yellin' Kid," commented Dick.