“Yes. I was lying in the dark, and I heard somebody call out for him.”
“Here, I say, Dan, lad, what’s to be done?” said the big driver, in a soft, deep growl. “Don’t he know?”
“No,” said Dan quietly. “A bit off his head still.”
“What’s that you are saying?” said Mark sharply. “What is it I don’t know? Well—why don’t you speak?”
“Don’t—don’t talk so much, my lad,” said Buck softly. “You are a bit off your head from that club.”
“Yes—yes—oh, I understand; you are trying to make me not think about it. Ah, I can think better now. Where’s my father?”
Neither of the men replied.
“Yes, I do understand more now. I know, Buck, you are keeping something from me. Don’t say my father’s hurt!”
The boy waited for the answer that did not come.
“Then he is!” he cried excitedly. “And Dr Robertson?”