"All right, I will go to him."
"Ask him how he was dressed," said Mason as they hastened on.
The man described the boy's suit as well as he could.
"That's Hal, sure," said Mason when the reply had been translated to him. "Bert can't be far away."
"Did he have light hair?"
The man shook his head.
"Black," he answered.
"Pshaw, he's made a mistake. It must be Hal."
As they entered the clearing the prisoner sat with his back against a tree. His head was turned almost away from them, but Mason recognized the clothing and rushed forward with a glad cry.
"Cheer up, Hal, old man," he shouted as he bounded across the clearing and dropped on his knees at the boy's side. He was on his feet in a moment, his face scared and white.