Fell off---and hurt my head," replied the peddler, whispering hoarsely.
"You're fully conscious, Mr.Hinman, and know just what you're saying ?" Dick pressed.
"Yes, Prescott.

I know." "Then no one else assaulted you to-night, sir." "No---one." "I feel like saying 'thank heaven' for that!" exclaimed Dick in a quiet voice, as he straightened up, his eyes a trifle misty.
"I hate to think that the earth holds men vile enough to strike down a weak old man like this!" "And on such a night," added Tom Reade.
"Oh, we're pretty bad," said the boss tramp, huskily, "but we didn't do anything like that." "At first," Dick went on, "I thought you hoboes had done the deed.
That was why I asked my friend to let you come in.

I wanted to keep you here until we could find someone who would take care of you." "We didn't do it," replied the boss tramp, "and the old man says we didn't." "No; no man struck me---I fell," chimed in the peddler weakly.
"We'll help you take care of the old man," offered the boss tramp.
"If you mean what you say," Prescott proposed, "then take one of these lanterns and go down by the road to see what you can find out about Mr.Hinman's horse and wagon.

Or did you see them as you came up ?" "No, for we came through the woods," replied the boss tramp.
"I'll take the lantern.

Come with me, Joe." Out into the dark plunged the two tramps, to face the heavily falling rain.