"Is he—can you—will he—" stammered Frank.
"He will get well, if that's what you mean," said Dr. Robertson. "He is much better now. The fact is," he went on, "his fits of insanity were only temporary, and they were caused by a drug, which was administered to him in his food. He ate something at the sanitarium just before you rescued him, and this last time the drug began to work as soon as he heard that donkey bray. The fit has passed now, and if he doesn't get any more of the drugged food he will probably have no more insane spells."
"Oh, I'm so glad!" cried Frank, sinking on his knees at the side of the cot on which his father lay.
Mr. Roscoe opened his eyes.
"Frank! My boy!" he murmured. Then he dozed off again.
The doctor stayed at the tent until noon, and left some medicine, saying he would call again in the evening. Soon after the medical man had left Mr. Roscoe awakened. He declared he was much better, and in talking of his case he said he noticed that the strange spells came over him soon after he had eaten something. At other times he was as clear-headed as he had ever been.
In a few days, under the treatment of Dr. Robertson, Mr. Roscoe had fully recovered. It was thought best to keep him at the camp for a few days, as the rest would do him good.
"Then you'll come away with me and we'll make a home for ourselves," said Frank.
"Why not stay with your Uncle Abner?" asked Mr. Roscoe.
Frank told of his suspicions, that his uncle was in the plot with the men who held Mr. Roscoe a prisoner.