He ceased talking and began feebly to search in an inner pocket, meanwhile struggling to get out of Frank's arms.
"Let me go! Let me go!" he cried fiercely, but he was so weak, or dazed from the blow, that Frank easily held him, though Billy was no weakling in muscle.
"Steady now, old man," said Frank, in a soothing voice. "It's all right. We're friends of yours. We'll take care of you. Don't you know me?" and he bent closer over the lad, looking into his face by the light of the match.
"You must not take it—I won't let you have it! Oh—it's you—Frank—the Racer boys!" suddenly exclaimed Billy, and then the brothers knew that his mind had been wandering, but that now he was himself again.
"Are you much hurt, old man?" asked Frank. "How did it happen? Who struck you? Have you been robbed?"
Billy did not answer at once. His hand, that had been fumbling with the buttons of his vest, now opened that garment, and sought an inner pocket. His face, that had shown terror and despair, now reflected hope. A breath of relief came from his lips.
"I—I'm all right," he faltered. "I guess I can stand up." He proved it by doing so, though Frank stood near to catch him in case he fell. Then the moon, which had been hidden behind clouds, came out, making it light enough to see, so that Andy had no further need of striking matches.
"How did it happen?" asked Frank. "Who attacked you?"
"I—I don't know," said Billy, in stronger tones. "I had been in town to mail an important letter, and I was hurrying back, for, though I had permission to be out, I didn't want to be too late in getting back. I took this short cut, and just as I got here someone jumped on me from behind, and tried to get——"
"He was after your watch and money, I guess," interrupted Andy, for he had seen the valuable gold timepiece Billy carried, and it was well known that the western lad was wealthy, and usually had a fairly large sum with him.