"Sort of took me for dead; didn't you?" asked the man.
Now that he had given the opening Billee had no hesitation in replying:
"We sure thought you had cashed in."
"Well, I nearly did," said the man. "I believe I would have been dead in a short time if you hadn't come along. My horse is dead, I'm sure of that. And how I managed to drag myself here after he collapsed under me is more than I know. But I did, hoping I might get some help. Then I passed out. That's all I know until I found myself sitting up and drinking camphor water."
"'Tisn't camphor," said Bud. "It's aromatic ammonia."
"Oh," murmured the man. "Well, sort of tasted like the old camphor bottle my mother used when she got faint. However, I'm much obliged. And, now that you're in possession I'll be traveling on. Only—my horse——"
He was as lost without a steed as a sailor would be without a ship, and he was plainly at a loss how to proceed.
"Look here!" broke in Bud, who, as the representative of his father could speak with some authority, "we can't let you go this way. In the first place you're not fit to travel on, and, in the second place we want to hear your story. After that maybe we can fix you up with a pony if you want to leave."
"I'll tell you my story all right," said the man, readily enough. "And thanks for the loan of a horse. As for staying here—after what happened—I guess I don't feel much like it."
"What happened?" asked Dick, eagerly.