"Father! Father!" cried Frank in great anguish. "Don't you know me? I'm your son! I rescued you from the sanitarium!"
"I have no son! I am all alone in the world! I don't know you!" and the poor man tried to crawl further under the cot.
"Oh, what shall I do?" cried Frank.
Outside the rain came down harder than ever and the wind swayed the frail tent. Once more the donkey brayed.
"There they are! There they are!" cried Mr. Roscoe. "They are going to kill me!"
It was the cry of the beast that had sent his frail mind once more into the channel of insanity.
"Oh, what are we to do?" cried Frank again. "Perhaps he is really insane and I have made a mistake in taking him out of that institution."
"It wasn't your fault," declared Bart "Any one would have done the same. Perhaps it will pass over. He isn't violent."
Though they were much frightened, the two boys tried to coax Mr. Roscoe out from under the cot, but he would not come. At Frank's suggestion, Bart again tied the stone to the donkey's tail, to prevent the braying. Then they sat and waited for daylight and the arrival of their chums. The hours were long and full of terror. They did not know what to do. They could only wait for morning, and when that came they did not know that they would be any better off.
The rain stopped. Then a pale light began to diffuse among the trees. It grew stronger. Mr. Roscoe was quieter now, and came from under the cot. Frank persuaded him to lie down, and in a little while his father was asleep.