"The desk has been broken open!" cried Dick. "And the pantry in the
corner, too!"

"Mercy, save us!" shrieked Mrs. Rover, from the kitchen. "Come here at
once. Poor Anderson has been killed!"

"Killed!" gasped Tom; and then all ran to the kitchen as quickly as
they could.

They found Anderson Rover lying where he had fallen, and still
unconscious. There was a lump on his forehead, and a thin stream of
blood trickled down one side of his face.

"Thank heaven, he is not dead!" murmured Dick, as he knelt beside his
father. "But he has been struck some cruel blows. Somebody fetch water
and a bandage."

The water was procured, and also a bandage, and under skillful
treatment, Anderson Rover was presently restored to consciousness.

"Where--where is he?" he questioned, when he could speak.

"Do you mean the person who struck you down?" asked Dick.

"Ye--yes."

"I don't know. Got away, I guess."

"The villain! He attacked me most foully!"