The man laughed and said: "Just the same I am glad to know you. My name seems to have got away from me for the time being. My mind's slipped a cog, as you might say. What do they call you, son?"
Billy told him his name. "And," he added, "I was right there in front of Chet Belding's father's jewelry store when that automobile knocked you down."
"You don't mean it?"
"Yes, sir. I saw the machine. It was a Perriton car all right. It might even have been Pretty Sweet's car. But it wasn't Pretty Sweet driving it, I am sure."
The boy's earnestness caught the man's full attention. "I guess this Sweet boy they tell about is a friend of yours, son?" he said.
"He is a friend all right, all right," said Billy Long. "And I never knew it till right here when I got hurt. Purt--that's what we call him--is a good fellow. And I am sure he wouldn't do such a thing as to knock you down and then run away without finding out if he had hurt you."
"I don't know how that may be," said the man seriously. "But whoever it was that ran me down did me a bad turn. I can't find my name--or who I am--or where I belong. I tell you what it is, Billy Long, that is a serious condition for anybody to be in."
"I guess that's so," admitted the boy. "And you got your leg broken, too, in two places."
"I don't mind much about the broken leg," said the man who had lost his name. "What I am sore about, Billy Long, is not having any name to use. It--it is awfully embarrassing."
"Yes, sir, I guess it is."