SAVED FROM THE RUINS.
“The groans seem to come from over there,” said Harry, after an interval
of searching among the scattered beams and timbers.
“Where?”
“Right there where the remains of that stone chimney are standing. Phew!
what a strong odor! It makes my head ache.”
“Dynamite,” was Ralph’s brief response; “that shows I was right. It was
dynamite that blew up the hut.”
Right by the chimney that Harry Ware had indicated was a confused pile
of boards and scantlings. As the boys reached the spot a hollow moan
came from beneath the tumbled mass of wreckage.
“Here, boys! It’s right under here!” cried Ralph. “Hurry now and tear
this stuff away. It may be a matter of life and death.”
The boys worked feverishly for a few minutes and then they uncovered an
arm, and a minute later an unconscious form was stretched out before
their eyes.
“Why, it’s a boy!” exclaimed Percy Simmons, as the white face of the
inanimate form was illumined by a faint glow from the smoldering hut.
“So it is. Just a kid. See, there’s a bucket over there and a well
yonder. Make haste and get some water, Harry,” said Ralph. “We’ll bathe
this cut on his forehead.”
“Poor little fellow, he looks about all in,” said Percy Simmons, as
Harry hurried off on his errand of mercy.
“I’m not so sure about that. He may have only been knocked unconscious
when those beams fell on him,” replied Ralph hopefully. “I can find no
trace of broken bones.”
“Well, that’s good, anyhow. See, here comes Harry back with the water.
What now?”
“We must bathe the wound and then try to get him to a doctor,” was the
reply.
“A doctor?”
“Certainly. He needs medical attendance. We can only give first aid
measures.”
“But there’s no doctor nearer than Piquetville.”
“Think again.”
“What do you mean?”
“Why, on North Twin Island, not far from us, Dr. Chadwick has a summer
home. He arrived there two days ago. We’ll take this boy there, and see
what can be done for him.”
While this conversation was going on Ralph had been tenderly bathing the
little lad’s wound, while the others supported his limp frame. He
appeared to be hardly more than eleven or twelve years old, with a
meager, starved-looking little body; but his hands were cruelly scarred
and mauled as if by hard work. His feet and calves were bare and a
tattered shirt and torn trousers formed his sole garments. Altogether,
it was a forlorn little scarecrow that they bent over in the dim light
of the ruins.
All this time they had forgotten completely about the man they had left
behind them, felled by Ralph’s necessary blow. He now was recalled
abruptly to their recollection by no less a circumstance than his
arrival on the scene.
“What are you doing with that boy?” he demanded roughly.
“Trying to do the best we can to patch him up till we get him to a
doctor,” said Ralph sharply. “Did you know he was in the ruins?”
“What is that to you if I did or not?” grumbled the man. “If you must
know, I was looking for him when you came up and interfered.”
“And you wasted valuable time which might, for all you knew, have cost a
human life, in quarreling with us? You’re a fine specimen—not!” growled
out Ralph. He was mad clear through at the other’s brutal cynicism. But
he was to get madder still presently.
“Don’t you dare take that boy off this island,” the man said
peremptorily.
“And why not?” demanded Ralph. “Surely it’s plain enough, even to as
callous a being as you are, that he needs medical attention.”
“I can attend to him. If you take him away from here, you do it at your
peril,” was the extraordinary reply.
“Great Scott, man, do you call yourself a human being?” burst out Percy
Simmons.
“Come on. Pick him up and carry him down to the boat. Easy now, don’t
shake him,” said Ralph as, after bandaging the lad’s head with his
handkerchief, he issued the order to his chums, ignoring the man
utterly. The fellow fumed as Percy Simmons and Harry Ware took the
injured lad’s head and feet and started off for the boat.
“Put down that boy!” he screamed.
“By what authority?” demanded Ralph.
“By mine. I’m his father.”
“Then you must have married mighty early. You don’t look much over
twenty-one or so.”
“Confound your impudence!” shrieked out the man. “How dare you come here
and kidnap my son?”
“Oh, we’re not kidnapping. We are taking him to Dr. Chadwick on North
Twin Island. He may decide that he must go to a hospital. If the doctor
does order this we will inform you. Will you let us have your name?”
“I will not,” shouted the man. “I warn you that you are law-breakers.
You’ll be punished for this. I’ll see to that, if it takes me the
longest day I ever live!”
“Then you’ll have to wait till the time that men or boys are to be
punished for saving lives,” flung back Ralph scornfully, as they made
their way to the landing.
The man offered no further objections to their taking the boy. Possibly
he had had his lesson already and found out that instead of three mere
boys, he had tackled lads who had seen enough of peril and adventure to
render them capable of rising to almost any emergency that might present
itself.
Nevertheless, he followed them to the dock and watched without comment
while they stowed the lad as comfortably as they could on the floor of
the little tender, using the cushions off the seats so that he might
rest the more easily.
“We’ll let you hear from us in the morning,” cried Ralph, as they shoved
off, the man still remaining in silence on the dock.
“Don’t you dare to come back here again,” he bawled in reply. “If you
do, I shan’t be alone.”
“Perhaps we shan’t be, either,” shot back Ralph, as he fell to work on
the oars.
With this parting dart, they left the strange man of Windmill Island
silhouetted against the glowing remains of his hut. As long as they
could see him, he stood motionless there, watching the receding boat.
“Well, if this isn’t a night of adventures and mysteries, jumbled up
like a tangled fishing line, I’d like to know,” exclaimed Percy Simmons
feelingly, as the boat moved slowly through the water.