For the piece of plank had fallen in such a way, being supported on
either end by resting on two stones on either side of the man's head,
that it kept the dirt and stones away from the face.

And that it was a face which they had uncovered, was not at all
certain to Roger and Jimmy at first. For so covered with blood,
streaks of dirt and powder stains was the countenance that it
resembled nothing human.

"He's alive--whoever he is!" declared Jimmy, for the unfortunate
was observed to breathe--and breathe deeply as the air came in more
abundantly to the parted lips.

Roger began digging in the dirt again, working down to the man's
hands. And when he had brushed aside the dirt and stones he lifted up
a limp wrist. One look at the identification tag chained around it,
and he cried:

"It's Iggy! We've found him all right!"

"Sure enough--it _is_ Iggy!" cried Jimmy, as he, too, looked at the
metal disk.

"Ach! Yes! Water!" faintly moaned the Polish lad. His voice was
a moan, but it was his voice. He opened his eyes, looked almost
uncomprehendingly at his two chums and smiled faintly.

"So, come you haf!" he murmured. "Think I did dat you would!"