“Jackson Bell,” repeated the lawyer. “Why, do you know him?”
“Know him?” went on Jerry, jumping up in his excitement. “Why he is in the next room this very minute! Well of all the strange pieces of luck!”
Then they all tried to tell the lawyer at once the story of the hermit and his son, making such a jumble that the attorney had to beg them to stop, while he listened to one at a time. Finally the tale was related, and the boys and the professor as well, greatly excited, paused to see what the lawyer would say.
“Then I don’t see any further trouble to your getting possession of the mine,” said the attorney. “If Mr. Bell is on your side, and you make a joint application to the court or even to the government agent, I am sure you will be given instant charge of the claim.”
“There is only one difficulty,” said Mr. Snodgrass. “Mr. Bell is wounded. His mind was not strong before the shooting, and it may be altogether gone when he recovers consciousness. In that case—?”
“In that case I’m afraid you are as badly off as before,” finished the lawyer.
The door to the inner room, where Mr. Bell was in the bunk, opened, and Tommy came out, looking worried.
“Is he worse, Tommy?” asked the professor.
“He’s acting very queer,” replied the boy. “He is sitting up in bed, and is trying to get something out from under his shirt. He’s talking something about a mine.”
“He is probably delirious,” said Mr. Snodgrass. “We must have a doctor. I’m afraid it looks bad for us, boys.”