The
blood from the cut had partly clotted, and the flow was greatly
diminished. But a glance at his face showed that he was in a very weak
condition.

"Must have been lyin' out there quite a spell," Billee commented, as
Bud returned with the shirt and a basin of water. The news of the
unconscious visitor had traveled fast, for Dick, Nort and the Kid
followed Bud into the room.

"Who is he?" asked the Kid as he bent over. "Little feller, ain't he?"

"Recognize him, Dick?" Bud said, kneeling down by the man's side and
dipping one end of the shirt in his basin.

"No, can't say that I--yes I do, too! It's the fellow that was here
when we came--the one who offered us the thousand! It's 'J. D.'!"

"Right. We found him lying over by a shack, dead to the world. Billee
and I carried him in here. Seems to have a nasty cut, but I don't
believe it's dangerous. Way he talked to me here awhile ago, he's too
ornery to die."

"Must have been caught in the big wind," Nort said. "Hit by a board,
probably."

"So that's Delton, hey?" Yellin' Kid drawled. "Well, mister, I'm
pleased to make your acquaintance. You don't look pertikerly dangerous
to me. But you can't tell about these quiet ones. Liable to fly up
any minute. Don't wash that blood off, Bud! Leave it lay. Have him
bleedin' again if you don't watch out. Nort, mosey out an' see if that
dumb Mex has got the coffee ready. Bring in some, will you? Leave the
'Canned cow' out of it. When this boy wakes up he wants something
strong."

The man's eyes opened for a minute, then closed again. The dusk
outside was settling rapidly now, and the room was growing darker.
Dick ran to the kitchen and returned with a lighted candle, which he
held close to the head of the recumbent figure. By this time their
visitor had regained consciousness, and was staring wide-eyed at the
group surrounding the couch--three men leaning expectantly over his
body, while a fourth held a lighted candle aloft like a weird statue.
Little wonder that a man awaking to such surroundings would be somewhat
bewildered.

"How do you feel, mister?" Yellin' Kid asked solicitously when he saw
that Delton was conscious.

"Not so--good," was the jerky answer. "Stomach--sick--head feels--"

"Swally this," urged Billee holding to his lips the steaming coffee
Nort had brought from the kitchen. "Sure it's hot! Don't want cold
sody, do ya? 'At's-a-boy--drink 'er down! Better now?"

"Yea," th