The man was fearfully bruised and did nothing but moan as the youth bore him up to the cottage.
Here he was made as comfortable as possible on a cot.

It was an hour before he was able to open his eyes.
"Where am I ?" he asked faintly.

"Oh, the storm.

I was hit in the back--I am dying; I know it.

Take me to Mrs.Leon Cromwell." At this utterance Mrs.Cromwell and Bob were both greatly astonished.
"I am Mrs.Cromwell, sir." "You! It is not possible!" "Mother tells the truth," put in Bob.