“Are you sure the boy we have in mind is your son?” asked Mr. Snodgrass. “We do not want to raise false hopes. Perhaps you may be mistaken.”
“Something tells me I can not be mistaken,” exclaimed the hermit. “Tommy Bell is not a common name. Besides, I can describe my son, and then you will know whether he is the one you know,” and he rapidly gave a short description of Tommy.
“That’s him all right,” said Jerry, and the others agreed that the lad they had rescued from the hands of the rough men was, indeed, the son of the hermit.
“And I thought him dead,” said the old man. “After I had been abused by the wicked gang that got me in their control I lost sight of poor Tommy. As soon as I could I made a search for him, but it was of no use.”
“Tommy thought you had wandered away from him,” said Ned. “He told us his story after we had rescued him.”
“Then you saved his life, just as you have mine,” broke in Mr. Bell. “I have much to thank you for. But first I must find my son. Where did you leave him?”
“At a place called Las Cruces,” replied the professor. Thereupon he told briefly how they had taken Tommy from the hands of the lawless gang and left him with a friend.
“I must go to him at once,” exclaimed the old man. “I can hardly wait to start. To think that the boy I thought was dead is alive! And I suppose he thinks I am dead also,” Mr. Bell went on.
“He was going to search for you,” replied Bob, “but he did not know where to start. We can send him word now.”
“I’ll take him word myself!” cried Mr. Bell. “I’ll start as soon as it is daylight.”