The negro slipped in as the old man held the door open, hurriedly
closing it afterward, and bolting it on the inside.

"Put them on my bed," went on the gray-haired man. "Then hurry back to
the wreck! There may be more people hurt, whom you can aid. Don't stop
to talk, but hurry back. I will see to the boys."

Not very willingly the negro left the shed. When he was gone, and the
door was securely fastened after him, the old man went over to where
Mark and Jack lay, both still unconscious.

"Poor lads!" sighed the old man. "I hope I can save them."

He went rapidly to work. Loosening the clothing of the boys he soon
found that no bones were broken. Then from a medicine chest he took
several bottles. In a tall glass, such as druggists use for mixing
prescriptions, he put several liquids, and stirred the whole together.
Then he moistened a little cotton in the preparation, and placed the
white stuff under the noses of the lads, holding it in place with
cloths. He had about completed this when a knock was heard at the door.

"Who is there?" he cried, starting up in alarm.

"Mr. Washington Jackson Alexander White," was the answer.

"Give the countersign!" demanded the old man, sternly, making no move to
undo the bolts that held the door tight.

"De North Pole, an' long may it stand!" was the rather odd reply.