"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.