[CHAPTER XXI—A DASTARDLY ATTACK]
With horror-struck faces the radio boys hastened to examine and aid their friend.
“He isn’t dead,” said Bob, as he felt the wounded man’s heart beat. “Somebody’s given him a terrible blow, though. Let’s lift him over to that couch, and I’ll get him a drink of water and see if we can’t bring him around.”
This was quickly done, and the boys chafed his wrists and did everything they could think of to restore him to consciousness. At last their efforts were rewarded, for Brandon Harvey’s eyelids flickered, and a spot of color came into his cheeks. As his eyes opened recognition came into them, and he made a feeble effort to rise, but sank back on the couch with a groan.
“Who hit you?” asked Bob. “Do you remember what happened?”
“I was at the table, taking a message,” panted Harvey, in a voice little above a whisper. “I remember hearing a footstep behind me, but before I could turn around somebody struck me on the head, and I knew nothing more until I came to and found you boys here. Is the safe all right?” he exclaimed suddenly, as a terrible thought crossed his mind.
“I’m afraid that whoever hit you robbed the safe, too,” replied Bob. “It’s empty now, anyway. The door of it was open when we came in.”
“Good Heaven!” exclaimed Harvey, and would have leaped to his feet had the boys not restrained him. “Why, there was over three thousand dollars in that safe! I had been meaning to go to the bank, but the weather was so bad that I let it slide. I can’t imagine who the thief could have been.”
The same thought occurred to all the boys at once, and was voiced by Bob.
“I’ll bet any money I know who the thief was!” he exclaimed. “It must have been that low-down crook, Dan Cassey. He was hurrying away from here when he bumped into us, fellows.”