"Wasn't it arranged that Mr. Horton should communicate with you after we reached this point?" asked Sandy.
"Certainly not!" was the reply. "He gave me full instructions before we left Chicago. If I found a deserted cabin at this point, I was to make camp here. If I did not, I was to keep along the coast toward Bering Glacier until I discovered one answering this description."
"But where did this kid come from?" insisted Tommy. "How did he ever get here all by his lonely? We had two guides to help us in, and it seems that he came alone, that is, as far as we can see."
"I don't think he came alone!" replied Sandy pointing to the wound on the boy's head. "He never got a bump like that in a fall!"
"Oh, we'll have to wait until the kid wakes up!" Tommy cut in. "We'd better be doing something to help him out of his trance, instead of standing here guessing. He may be badly hurt!"
The limp figure was lifted from the floor and placed on one of the bunks fastened to the wall of the cabin. The lad groaned slightly as the change was made, but did not open his eyes.
"I guess he got a bad bump," Will suggested. "And I'm sorry to say that his wound requires a piece of surgery far beyond my ability to perform. I'm afraid we'll have to send out for a doctor!"
The boys used every means within their knowledge to bring the lad back to consciousness, but all their efforts proved unavailing. The lad lay in a comatose condition long after all their resources had failed.
So busily engaged were the boys in their efforts at resuscitation that they did not for a moment remember that they, themselves, might be in danger from the same hand which had struck down the boy.
As they worked over the lad, bathing the wound with hot water and endeavoring to force stimulating drinks between the set teeth, they did not observe a bearded face was pressed for a moment against a window pane. It was an evil face, and was gone on the instant.