Stumbling through the snow drifts the three chums bore the half-unconscious boy they had picked up in the snow bank. They went as quickly as they could, for they knew the need of haste in the case of a person who had been exposed to the cold and storm.
“I wonder who he is?” said Fenn.
“Whoever he is he’s pretty nearly dead,” replied Frank. “I hope we’re not too late.”
As they struggled into the lobby of the hotel with their burden, the night clerk gazed curiously at them.
“What the matter?” he asked.
“Boy almost frozen,” replied Bart. “Send for a doctor!”
“Who’s going to pay him?” the clerk inquired.
“We will!” Bart replied, somewhat indignantly.
“That’s all right, needn’t get mad about it,” the clerk exclaimed. “You’ll find there’s a lot of grafting in New York, and we have to be careful. Here, I’ll help you with him.”
“Take him up to my room,” Frank suggested, as the clerk came from behind the desk and assisted in supporting the boy, who was now unconscious. “Mine is the largest apartment,” Frank went on, “I can bunk in with one of you fellows.”