"I should say so," agreed Frank. Billy said nothing. He was looking at a dark object huddled on the ground, not far from the entrance to the cyclone cellar. The ranch boy advanced toward it.
"What's that?" called his uncle sharply, as he, too, saw it. "A dog?"
"No, it's—why, it's a man!" cried Billy, as he stooped over the figure. "It's a man, and he's hurt!"
Then, as Frank and Andy ran to join their chum, they uttered cries of astonishment.
"Look! Look who it is!" said Frank.
"It isn't he! It can't be possible!" added Andy.
"But it is, by all that's wonderful!" ejaculated Billy. "How in the world did he get here, and how was he hurt?"
"Something hit him on the head, evidently," said Frank.
"Who is it? What's the matter?" cried Mr. Thornton, running up. "Who is it, boys?"
"Sam Shackmiller, the man who tried to get that paper away from me!" answered Billy.