another by his feet. But, altogether, it looked really as though they
carried a limp sack between them.

"Fust time I ever see that boy still," murmured Jasper Parloe.

"Cracky! He's pale; ain't he?" said another man.

Doctor Davison dropped on one knee beside the body as they laid it
down. The lanterns were drawn together that their combined light might
illuminate the spot. Ruth saw that the figure was that of a youth not
much older than herself-- lean, long limbed, well dressed, and with a
face that, had it not been so pale, she would have thought very nice
looking indeed.

"Poor lad!" Ruth heard the physician murmur. "He has had a hard fall--
and that's a nasty knock on his head."

The wound was upon the side of his head above the left ear and was now
all clotted with blood. It was from this wound, in some moment of
consciousness, that he had traced the word "Help" on his torn
handkerchief, and fastened the latter, with the lamp of his
motorcycle, to the dog's collar.

Here was the machine, bent and twisted enough, brought up the bank by
two of the men.

"Dunno what you can do for the boy, Doctor," said one of them; "but it
looks to me as though this contraption warn't scurcely wuth savin'."

"Oh, we'll bring the boy around all right," said Doctor Davison, who