Five minutes later the workers managed to release Mr. Garrity, and Jack helped him out of his prison. The old gentleman looked considerably the worse for his remarkable experience. There was blood upon his cheek, and he kept caressing one arm as though it pained him considerably.
Still his heart was filled with thanksgiving as he stared around at the pile of torn timbers, and considered what a marvelous escape his had been.
“Let me take a look at your arm, sir,” said 20 Jack, who feared that it had been broken, because a beam had pinned the gentleman by his arm to the ground.
Mr. Garrity, who up to that time had paid very little attention to the Boy Scout movement that had swept over that region of the eastern country like wildfire, looked at the eager, boyish faces of his rescuers. It could be seen that he was genuinely affected on noticing that most of them wore the badges that distinguish scouts the world over.
“I hope my wrist is not broken, though even that would be a little price to pay for my temerity in entering that shaky old building,” he ventured to say as he allowed Jack to examine his arm.
“I’m glad to tell you, sir,” said the boy, quickly, “that it is only a bad sprain. At the worst you will be without the use of that hand for a month or two.”
“Then I have great reason to be thankful,” declared Mr. Garrity, solemnly. “Perhaps this may be intended for a lesson to me. And, to begin with, I want to say that I believe I owe my very life to you boys. I can never forget it. Others, of course, might have done all they could to dig me out, but only a long-headed boy, like Jack Stormways here, would have thought to keep that timber from falling and crushing me just when escape seemed certain.” 21
He went around shaking hands with each one of the boys, of course using his left arm, since the right was disabled for the time being. Jack deftly made a sling out of a red bandana handkerchief, which he fastened around the neck of Mr. Garrity, and then gently placed the bruised hand in this.
“Was any other person injured when the ice-house collapsed?” asked Mr. Garrity, anxiously.
“A couple of girls were struck by some of the big cakes flung far and wide,” explained Bobolink. “Little Lucy Stackpole has a broken leg. We sent her home on a sled, and the doctor will soon be at her house, sir.”