“That’s Jim,” Don said, as they halted. “They must have found something. Let’s go back.”
Accordingly, they turned around and ran back, passing the spot where they had split and continuing on until they came to a bend in the snow-covered road. Around this bend they found the other boys gathered around a small automobile, the nose of which was smashed against a tree. The three boys were busy around the car as Don and Terry hastened up. By the faint light of the one headlight that was burning the two boys could see that a figure was hunched over the wheel of the club coupe. The others were trying to pull the man out and finding it a trying task, for the driver was tightly pinned by the wheel, which had rammed into his stomach.
“His feet are free,” announced Douglas, who had been giving his attention to them. Don grasped the bent steering wheel and exerted all of his strength. It yielded a little and he tugged some more.
“Pull, you guys,” he commanded, and they drew the body of the driver from the car. The man was unconscious and groaned slightly. When they had placed him on the snow in the road they saw that it was Melvin Gates.
“Somebody run and get the bob-sled,” directed Don, and Vench and Douglas dashed into the woods at once. Quickly and efficiently Don ran his hands over the man’s arms and legs.
“No bones broken that I can feel,” he announced. “However, he may be internally injured, and it is possible that some of his ribs are broken. I wonder if we ought to move him?”
“We’ve got to,” decided Terry as the others appeared with the big sled. “He must be taken home or to a doctor’s at once. We’ll lift him gently onto the sled and get going right away.”
There was a blanket in the car and this they spread on the sled. Then, with infinite care they placed the limp body of the elder Gates on the sled and covered him up protectingly. Don and Douglas took the rope and began to pull the sled, while Terry, Jim and Vench brought up the rear and helped by pushing.
“Don’t you thing somebody had better run ahead and get a doctor?” asked Vench.
“Yes,” nodded Don. “We’re not far from Portville, and we’ll take Gates right to his home. Suppose you and Jim run ahead and get a doctor, and we’ll take Mr. Gates to his own house.”