The wagon came to a sudden stop, and Mr. Merkel jumped out.
"Hello, son! Howdy, boys! Say—what happened here? Bud—how did you get burned? You hurt?" There was a note of anxiety in the father's voice.
"Not a bit, Dad! Just blackened up a little. Had a fire, and we had to pull some men out. Look at that!"
The boy pointed to the mass of embers that was once a house. The fire had died down until now there was only glowing bits of wood left. It had started quickly and ended as suddenly.
"Anybody seriously burned?" Mr. Merkel looked at his son keenly, as though to satisfy himself that he was uninjured. The father's glance evidently convinced him that Bud was all right, for he turned quickly and said to the others:
"Where's Billee Dobb? I don't see him."
"Billee is the one who is really hurt, Uncle," Nort answered. "He's got a piece of lead in his shoulder. He's asleep now—be all right later, I think."
"Shot! The rascals! They'll suffer for that! You want to get Billee to a doctor as soon as possible, before infection sets in. We'll bring him back in the wagon."
"How did you happen to come here, Dad?" Bud asked curiously. "I didn't think you knew where we were."
"I didn't, exactly. I have a confession to make, Bud. You weren't sent out here to herd sheep. You were sent to do just what you did—to capture the smugglers."