“How about the yard?” asked Bobolink.
“We searched thoroughly but we didn’t come across a thing.”
Pause. Silence. Finally Jack said, “Suppose you now tell us all the other things you found in the house.”
Between them, Paul and Wallace related their entire experiences, not omitting any detail. He took out and showed the automatic and the box of cartridges. By the time the narrative was completed, Bluff had returned. Warming up a glass of milk, Paul fed it to the stricken man, a little at a time. Revived, he smiled and opened his lips to speak but Paul cautioned him not to exert any effort and just to rest. He lay down again and fell asleep. About two hours later he awoke and Paul fed him a cup of pineapple juice and a soft boiled egg. The man seemed to regain his strength rapidly. He was now fully able to speak but he uttered only a few words. “Thank you,” he said. “I will now rest a little longer.”
Toward afternoon, the agent recovered sufficiently to sit up and declaim his hunger. But on the recommendation of Paul, to which he agreed, he was given only warm milk and again a soft boiled egg on toast. As he ate, the boys gathered around and watched him. When he had finished his meal, he sat quietly for a short while, passing his hand over his several days growth of beard and laughing in his throat. Finally he spoke, his voice throaty and rusty. He asked, “Do you fellows mind telling me how you came to be in that house?”
The boys shut their mouths and kept quiet. The embarrassing silence lasted for about a minute. At last Paul replied, “Don’t you think, sir, that it is really your task to explain to us how you came to be in the condition in which we found you? We are Boy Scouts and by our treatment of you, it is evident that we are friends and mean you no harm.”
The man stroked his chin and hesitated. He let his sharp eyes roam from one silent boy to another, judging them, evaluating their characters. Wallace held out the badge they had found on him and asked, “Is this yours, sir?”
He glanced at it, nodded, took it and dropped it in his pocket. “Thank you,” he muttered. He still seemed to hesitate. Finally he spoke, low and throaty. “My name is Tom Woods and I want to thank you boys for saving my life. Another day and I would have passed out.”
“How long have you been a prisoner there?” questioned Jack.