The physician at once went to work. He sewed up the cut in the back of Frank’s head, and gave the young man a strengthening potion.
“All he needs now is plenty of rest,” said the physician. “It is an ugly wound, but by no means a serious one. Nevertheless, had it come an inch farther up the young man would have been killed.”
“He can’t be moved, can he?” asked Bob.
“Not for a day or two.”
“He can stay here a week,” said the elder Dalmer. “I did not know it was Landes at first, or I wouldn’t have been so rough.”
They left Frank lying on a bed in the spare room, and then Bob followed the others below, and there told his story, starting with the meeting between Frank and Casco at the hotel.
“I heard about that affair only an hour ago,” said the doctor. “And so those are the men who attacked you both?”
“They are.”
“They oughter be in jail!” cried old Dalmer. “Sech rascals ain’t fit to be loose.”
The doctor was about to leave, when a wagon dashed up to the house. It contained two men, one of whom jumped down and rapped sharply on the door.