“Off his trolley?” went on the youth, wondering what form of disease that was.
“Yep. Nutty, you know; bug-house, wheels, crazy, if that suits you better.”
“Oh!” replied Jerry, understanding.
“If you ain’t the doc. no use of me wastin’ my time on you,” the man went on. “I’ll have to chase out after one.”
“I saw the sign of a doctor’s office a little way back on this street as I came along,” volunteered the boy. “I’ll go and stay with the man while you run there.”
“Bully for you!” said the man. “Some of the people in this house is afraid of him ’cause he talks in his sleep. You’ll find him on the second floor front.”
Jerry went up. In a dimly lighted room he saw an old man lying on a bed, covered with ragged quilts. One glance showed Jerry that the man was the miner who had mysteriously disappeared from the hut when they sought to aid him.
Suddenly the sick man opened his eyes. He looked sharply at Jerry and exclaimed:
“Oh, you’ve come back, have you? Where is the boy who took my gold?”