Bart turned to make his way out of the crowd, for he was anxious about Fenn. He had given up all hope of capturing the mysterious man, who had started to hasten away before the accident to the lineman on the pole, and who, doubtless, was far enough off by this time. But Bart’s progress was arrested by a voice.
“Hold on, young fellow!” exclaimed the workman whose life Bart had saved. “I want to shake hands with you. That was a corking good shot. I heard the bullet whistle past me, and then I knew I was safe. Shake!” and he extended his hand that did not tremble as much as did Bart’s, such nerve did the electrician have. He had fully recovered from his thrilling experience.
Bart received modestly the almost extravagant praise accorded him, and once more began to make his way toward where Fenn had been carried.
“Where is my chum?” he asked. “The lad who fainted.”
“Oh, he’s coming around all right,” answered a man. At that moment Fenn himself came through the press of people around Bart. He had recovered from the shock caused by the sudden pressure on his sore arm.
“Are you all right?” asked Bart, anxiously.
“Sure. How about you?” inquired Stumpy. “I hear you made a great shot.”
“Don’t talk about it,” pleaded Bart, who was now almost as nervous as a girl. “Where are Ned and Frank?”
“Following that man, I suppose,” began Fenn, and then he stopped suddenly, for people looked curiously at him.