A moment later they came in sight of the cause of the sounds. A hatless,
dirty, illy-dressed youngster of perhaps ten years stood by the roadside,
howling and digging his soiled fists into his eyes as he blubbered. At
sight of the horse and buggy this small sample of human misery looked up
to call, appealingly:

"Hey! Oh, mister!"

"Well," demanded Jack, reining in the horse, "what's the matter?"

"Oh, mister, mister! It's me mother!"

"What's the matter with her? Where is she?"

"She's in there," pointing under the trees just off the road. "We
was walkin' along, an' one o' them otterbubbles must ha' hit her.
She give a yell, then crawled inter them bushes. She hain't said
nuthin' lately--an' oh! I'm dreadful scared!"

"Poor little chap!" muttered Jack, handing the reins to his friend.
"I'll go in and see what's wrong."

But Hal also jumped out, hastily hitching the horse. Then they followed
their youthful guide in under the trees, to a clump of bushes. There in
the dark Jack and Hal saw a huddled mass of something lying on the
ground. Benson was the first to bend over, but Hal, also peering
intently, was close at his side.

"Why, this isn't anything human," called Jack. "It's just a--"