"Yes, sir," bowed Dick.
"Dr. Hewitt. Let me see your patient."
For some minutes the physician bent over the peddler, examining and questioning the old man, who answered with effort.
"I must get Hinman to a hospital some miles from here," the physician explained, aside, to Dick. "The poor old man is going to have pneumonia, and he'd die without hospital care. Probably he'll die, anyway. I'll give him a hypodermic injection in the arm, then wait for him to become quiet. After that we'll move him to the tonneau of my car and I'll take him to the hospital. I telephoned Hinman's son, over at Fenton, telling him where his father and his wagon are. The son ought to come over and take charge of the outfit."
It was three quarters of an hour later when Dr. Hewitt examined his patient, then remarked:
"He can be moved now, as well as at any time."
"There's someone coming," announced Reade, as the sound of a horse's hoofs were heard. Tom went out to look at the new arrival.
A man of forty, rather flashily dressed, though somewhat mud-spattered, rode up on a horse that looked much the worse for being abroad on the bad roads.
"I understand that Mr. Hinman is here, ill," began the stranger.
"He is," Tom nodded. "Have you any interest in him?"