“That’s right, old man!” cried Frank, with satisfaction. “Just open your peepers and let us know you are recovering.”
Harry opened his eyes.
“Where—what—why——”
He seemed unable to ask the questions that sought for utterance.
“I was thinking the same things a few moments ago,” said Frank. “We were knocked out in the first round with the old hermit.”
“Hermit—what hermit?”
“That’s it,” nodded Merry. “You’re as bad off as I was. Why, Carter Morris, the uncle of the girl with the golden hair, who has hit you so hard.”
A light of understanding came to Harry’s face, and he revived with wonderful swiftness.
“I remember it all now!” he faintly exclaimed. “But I do not know what happened to us. It seemed to me that something struck me.”
“Something did.”