"He isn't dead, but they must have hit him a terrible blow. Let us carry him out into the open air."
This they did, and laid the youngest Rover on some boards. Here he presently opened his eyes and stared about him.
"Don't—don't hit me again!" he pleaded, vacantly.
"They shan't hit you again, Sam," answered Dick, tenderly. He felt of his brother's head. On top was a lump, from which the blood was flowing.
"This is the worst yet," said Tom. "What had we best do next?"
"Call a policeman, if you can find any."
"That's rather a hard thing to do around here."
However, Tom ran off, and while he was gone Dick did what little he could to make Sam comfortable. At last the youngest Rover opened his eyes again and struggled to sit up.
"Where—where are they, Dick?"
"Gone into the factory."