"What—what—what happened to me?" he stammered and gave a gasp. "Who—who knocked me down?"
"That we don't know, Dad," answered Jack, and he was glad to realize that his parent was coming to his senses. "Gee! I was afraid you had been killed."
The four boys raised Dick Rover up and laid him on one of the cots. They had a little first-aid kit with them, and from this they got some plaster with which they bound up the small cut.
It was some time before Dick Rover felt able to tell his story. In the meanwhile Fred dashed downstairs for some hot water, which was applied to the lump on the sufferer's head.
"I guess I'll get over it," said Jack's father, with a wan smile. "But they certainly did give it to me." Then he gave a sudden start. "What about my papers? Are they safe?"
The boys looked around, but saw no papers of any kind in the room.
"I had them in my bag. I brought them in here to look them over, and to do some writing at the table."
"Well, there's no bag here now, or papers either," announced Randy.
"Then those rascals must have taken them! That was probably why they knocked me down. They wanted to rob me."
"But who attacked you, Dad?" questioned Jack.