THE OLD MAN
"Don't shoot!" the old man begged, trying to stand up, but toppling
in a heap. "Don't shoot! I haven't done anything!"
"We'll see about that," went on Jim, as he dismounted. "What are you
sneaking around like that for, hiding under a rock? If it had been a
little darker we wouldn't have seen you. Who are you?"
"I don't know's it any of your affair," replied the stranger
sullenly, as he sat down on the ground.
"Shot, eh," remarked Jim, as he noticed that the man's left foot was
covered with blood. "Now you'd better tell me all about it, before I
make trouble for you."
"It was an accident," replied the man. "I was cleaning my gun. I
forgot I had a shell in it, and it went off and hit my foot. It was
back there, and I thought I'd crawl along until I got to some place I
could get help."
"Likely story," said Jim with a sneer. "That don't go with me,
stranger. You stay here and I'll send some of the men to have a look
at you."
"Are you going to leave him here?" asked Jack, who had dismounted,
and was walking toward the old man.
"Sure. What else can I do?"
"Let me look at his foot," went on Jack, "I know a little bit about
first aid to the injured. Maybe I can bandage it up,"
"Better let him alone," advised Jim, mounting his horse again.
But Jack was bending over the man, and had already taken off his
shoe, which was filled with blood. As the boy was drawing off the
sock, the man caught sight of Jack's hand.
"That ring! That ring! Where did you get it?" he asked excitedly, as
he caught sight of the moss agate emblem on Jack's finger. "Tell me,
who are you?"
Jack looked at the man in astonishment. His words and manner
indicated that some unusual emotion stirred him. For a moment he
gazed at the ring and then a film seemed to come over his eyes. His
head sank forward, and a second later he toppled over.
"He's dead!" exclaimed Nat.
"Only fainted, I guess," replied Rattlesnake Jim coolly. "Lost
considerable blood I reckon. He's left quite a trail, anyhow," and he
pointed to where a crimson streak in the grass showed that the
wounded man had crawled along.
"What shall we do?" asked John. "We can't leave him here."
"Don't see what else there is to do," said Jim, as he turned his
horse back into the path. "We can't carry him. Besides, he is
probably only one of a horse-stealing gang, and has been shot in some
foray. Better leave him alone."
"I'm not going to," declared Jack. "First I'm going to fix up his
foot, and then we'll go for help."
"I guess my uncle will see that he is taken care of," spoke Nat, with
all a boy's confidence in things he knows nothing about.
"Well, you can have your own way, of course," Jim said. "I'm only
sent to show you the way, but if it was me I sure would leave him
alone."
By this time Jack had torn several handkerchiefs into strips to make
bandages. Jim, who began to take interest in what the boy was doing,
even if he did not believe in it, showed him where there was a pool
of water. With this Jack bathed the old man's foot. It had a bad
bullet wound in it, but the bleeding had stopped. Carefully bandaging
the wound, Jack made a pillow out of a blanket he found rolled behind
the saddle and with another covered the senseless form.
"Now let's hurry on to the ranch, Nat," he said, "and ask your uncle
to send out a wagon. If none of the men want to come we'll drive."
"Of course we will," spoke Nat, with rather an unfriendly look at
Jim,
"Oh, I'm not so mean as that," the cowboy hastened to say. "You'll
find out here we have to be mighty particular who we make friends
with, son. But if you boys are so dead set on taking care of this--
er--well, this gentleman, why I'll volunteer to drive a wagon back."
"Thanks," said Jack, but from then on there was a better
understanding between the cowboy and the three chums.
The boys mounted their horses, and, as Rattlesnake Jim put his to a
gallop, they urged their steeds to greater speed. As Nat swung up
along side of Jack he asked:
"What makes you so anxious about that old
man?"
"Because I think he may know something of my father. Did you notice
how excited he was about the ring? Well, that gave me a clue. He may
be able to lead me to where my father is hiding. I must have a talk
with him."
There was considerable activity about the range when the boys and
their guide arrived. A score of the cowboys were coming in from
distant runs anxious for supper. Horses were being tethered for the
night. Half a dozen dogs were barking as though their lives depended
on it. Here and there men were running about, some carrying saddies,
others laden down with blankets, and some hopping around and firing
off their revolvers in sheer good feeling.
From a little cabin a Chinese in the regulation blouse, with his
queue tightly coiled about his head, came to the door.
"Wood-e!-Wood-e?" he called. "Me no glet glub me no got wood-e!"
"Get Chinky the cook some wood!" yelled a man who seemed to be a sort
of overseer. One or two of the cowboys got up from the ground where
they had thrown themselves and brought armsful to the cook's shanty.
"Here we are," called Rattlesnake Jim, as he and the boys rode into
the midst of this excitement.
"Hello, Nat!" called a hearty voice. "Land alive, but I'm glad to see
you!"
The next instant a red-faced, short, stout, bald-headed man was
nearly pulling Nat from his horse.
"Hello, Uncle Morris!" called Nat. "How are you?"
"Fine as silk. How about you?"
"Never better," replied Nat "Here fellows, this is Uncle Morris.
That's Jack and that's John," he added, with a wave of his hand.
"Howdy!" exclaimed Mr. Kent heartily, shaking hands with his nephew's
companions. "I'd been able to pick you out in the dark from the
description Nat gave. Come on in, grub's almost ready."
"Will you speak to him about the old man?" asked Jack of Nat, in a
low voice.
"Oh, yes, sure," and Nat told his uncle in a few words of the wounded
one, and Jack's desire to have him brought in.
"I'll send some of the men in the wagon," Mr. Kent said.
"Let me go also," Jack begged, and, after some talk it was arranged
he was to go with Jim and another cowboy.
"But you must have supper first," said Mr. Kent. "I insist on that.
Besides it's going to be a warm night, and, according to your tale,
you left the stranger pretty comfortable. What do you think about
him, Jim?"
"Well, there's no telling," the boy's guide said. "He don't look as
though he could do much damage. He's a stranger around here. Don't
talk like any of the usual crowd. I was a bit leery of him at first,
but the lads seemed to cotton to him right off, so I let 'em have
their way."
"Well, we'll see what he amounts to," Mr. Kent commented. "No harm in
doing him a good turn I reckon."
It was quite dark when Jack, accompanying Jim and Deacon Pratt,
another cowboy, started on the wagon trip. But after a bit the moon
arose, and the journey was not so unpleasant. Jack was much
interested in listening to the talk of the two men. They discussed
everything from the latest make of cartridges and revolvers to the
best way to rope a steer and brand a maverick.
"Let's see, we ought to be pretty near the place now," Jim remarked,
after more than an hour's drive. "I think I see the big stone. Hark!
What's that?"
A low moan was heard.
"That's him, I reckon," put in Deacon, who was driving. He swung the
horse to one side, and Jim leaped down.
"He's, here!" Jim called. "Pretty bad shape, I'm afraid. Come here,
Deacon, and lend me a hand."
The two men lifted the aged man into the wagon, and placed him upon a
pile of blankets, while Jack held the team.
"Do you think he's dead?" asked our hero.
"Not yet, but he don't look as if he could last long," Deacon
replied. "I'll give him a bit of liquor. It may revive him," and he
forced a few drops of the stimulant between the cold lips.
"Don't shoot!" the old man begged in a feeble tone. "I don't mean any
harm."
"It's all right," said Rattlesnake Jim, more tenderly than he had yet
spoken.
The trip back was made in quick time, and the old man was put in a
bed Mr. Kent had ordered gotten ready for him. They were rude but
effective doctors, those ranchmen, and, in a little while the
stranger had revived considerably. He was suffering mostly from
exposure, hunger and loss-of blood from his wound.
The three boys were in the sitting room of the ranch house, taking
turns telling Mr. Kent of their experiences on their trip west.
Before they knew it the clock had struck twelve.
"Now you must get off to bed," said Nat's uncle. "We'll have more
time for swapping yarns to-morrow."
At that moment a man poked his had in at the door.
"What is it?" asked Mr. Kent
"That party we brought in a while ago, him as is shot in the foot,
seems to want something."
"What is it?"
"He says as how he's got to speak to that lad with the strange ring,
calls him Roberts."
"He means me!" exclaimed Jack.