"I wonder what could have happened to him?" said Bob.
"He must have fallen, and hurt himself," spoke Frank. "But neither his arms or legs are broken, as far as I can tell."
"I guess it's his head," remarked Sammy. "Probably that's what makes him senseless. I wish Mr. Jessup would hurry back."
"And to think that a little while ago he pushed us into a snowbank!" murmured Bob. "He couldn't do it now."
"No," said Sammy, softly. "Poor old man! I guess he's had lots of trouble."
Indeed, as the aged hermit lay there on the boys' coats, which they had partly folded over him, his face showed many wrinkles of care and suffering, as well as of age. Truly, he did not seem to have had a very happy life, and in their hearts the boys easily forgave him for what he had done to them.
"Here I am!" exclaimed Mr. Jessup, as, followed by his dog, he came up the path. Over his shoulder he carried a folding stretcher, consisting of two poles with a broad canvass piece in between. On this the hermit could be placed, and, by means of the handles, he could be easily carried.
"I'll give him a little spirits of ammonia first," said the hunter. "That is good when a person has fainted. Then we can decide what next to do. It may be that we'll need a doctor."
He mixed some of the ammonia in a glass, with a little water, and managed to get some between the lips of the old hermit. But it did little good. The aged man only moaned feebly and did not open his eyes.
"I guess we'd better carry him to his cabin," said Mr. Jessup, after a few minutes. "It's farther than it is to Camp Mystery, but if he wakes up, and sees himself in a strange place, it may have a bad effect on him. We can easily carry him to his own cabin."