Fred and Andy had gone for more water, and presently came back with an old tin can filled. With this Jack continued to bathe the face of the sufferer, washing the blood away as best he could, while Randy worked over the man’s arm, which was cut and scratched in a dozen places.
It was still very dark, but an occasional flash of lightning lit up the scene, and it was during one of these flashes that Jack suddenly uttered an exclamation.
“Do you know what I think?” he exclaimed. “I think this is Mr. Garrison!”
“What! Gif’s father?” ejaculated Fred. “Uncle Fred?” He had always called the man after whom he had been named “uncle,” even though they were not relatives.
“Yes, sir, it’s Gif’s father!” answered the young major. “It’s a wonder I didn’t recognize him before!”
“Gif’s father! Think of that!” murmured Andy. “Gee, I hope he isn’t hurt very much! It will be a terrible shock to Gif, not to say anything about his mother!”
Having recognized the man as the father of one of their best chums, and one who in years gone by had been a great chum of the older Rovers, the boys renewed their efforts on behalf of the sufferer, carrying him to a shed some distance back of the old barn. Here they found some straw and a few empty bags and laid Mr. Garrison upon those.
“We might better get a doctor for him and telephone the news to Colby Hall,” said Jack. “I guess I can run back to Haven Point and get someone.”
“Want me to go with you?” asked Andy. “Or would you rather that the three of us stayed here and took care of him?”
“You’d better stay and do everything you can,” answered the young major, and then set off on a dog-trot through the rain.