“No,” Old Stony admitted in disgust.
“Whoever it was must have meant to rob you.”
“The thieving rascal was after my gold and the map.”
Over Jack’s protests, Old Stony raised himself up on an elbow. His gaze raked the entire cabin from the fireplace to the bed. What he saw seemed to satisfy him, for he gave a feeble, throaty chuckle.
“The skunk didn’t get what he was after! Old Stony is nobody’s fool. Young fellow, if you’ll help me, I’ll get back into bed.”
“You shouldn’t move,” Jack warned him. “The doctor will be here in a few minutes.”
“Doctor, fiddlesticks! It takes more’n a little tap on the head to knock out Old Stony.”
Because the aged man was not to be denied, Jack helped him into bed, but he was alarmed at the prospector’s pallor and weakness.
“I’m all right,” Stony mumbled. “Thank you, son.”
It was increasingly clear to Jack that the old man was not all right, so he was greatly relieved when Ken came back with Mr. Livingston, Willie, and War.