"What's the mat-matter?" asked Tommy, whose teeth were chattering.
"He's warm yet," answered Charley.
"What you say?" cried Tommy. "It can't be, because the doctor said he was a gone coon."
"I don't give a straw for what the doctor said," answered Charley, going on his knees and putting his ear to the boy's chest. "He's breathing," he continued, after a slight pause, "and of course he can't be dead. This is a night of miracles. Oh! ain't I just glad, that's all. Swanny was awfully cut up, and so were we, to think that our joke should have killed Tony."
"What'll we do?" inquired Tommy.
"Tell you what'll we do. You help me to carry him, and we'll put him between us in my bed, and warm him."
Tommy was now strong enough to render the required assistance, and the boys succeeded in getting the supposed corpse into bed.
There were no bones broken in Tony's body, though he was considerably crushed and bruised.
It was an undoubted fact that he lived, for in a couple of hours he was so much recovered that he was able to speak.
"Is that you, Swanny?" he asked.