Bart drew out his handkerchief and tried to clean the dirt from the
military man's face.

The colonel resisted, he swayed and mumbled. Then he groaned again as
his eyes lit on the freight car.

"Get me away from here," he moaned--"get me away! What's happened to
me?"

"That is what I was going to ask you," said Bart. "Don't you know?"

The colonel passed his hand over his face and mumbled, but made no
coherent reply.

Bart glanced at the freight car. It afforded no evidence of present
occupancy. He reflected for moment.

"Wait for just two minutes," he directed.

Running over to the drug store on the next street, he spoke a few words
to the man in charge, and darted out again as the druggist hurried to
his telephone to call up the livery stable.

When he got back to the colonel, Bart found the latter sitting propped
up against the cinder heap, his eyes open, and breathing heavily, but
still in a helpless kind of a daze.

He worked over the colonel, and finally got the man on his feet. His
position was so unsteady, however, that he had to support him with one
hand while he dusted off his clothes with the other.