The man about the place at once hurried off, and placing the tin box, which he had picked up out of the snow, on the table, Horace Sumner bent over Hal's motionless form, and sought by every means in his power to restore him to consciousness.
In working over Hal's clothing the golden locket the youth considered his birthright came to light. For the moment Horace Sumner paid no attention to it, but placed it on top of the tin box.
At last Hal opened his eyes and stared around him.
"Hal, how do you feel?" questioned the old broker, with real anxiety in his tones.
"Mr. Sumner! the box—did you——"
"It is safe, Hal."
"I am so glad," and a smile came over the pallid face.
"But, my poor boy, you are hurt—Hardwick shot you. Can't you feel it?"
"Yes, in my side and my shoulder, but I don't think it's very bad, and I'll soon——"
Before Hal could finish he fainted away. Less than ten minutes later the man about the place returned with an experienced physician.