"Pulling my work to pieces, are you, Tom?" Harry called jovially.
"P—-p—-pardon me for not coming to meet you, old fellow, b—-b——but I'm dumbfounded at seeing you," Tom called back.
Harry, too, looked rather unsteady in his gait by the time he joined them. The last few yards he tried to run along the wall. Tom thrust out an arm and caught him just in time.
"You've been hurt, Harry!" gasped Tom.
"Yes, and I guess I'm a bit weak, even now," Hazelton mumbled. "Hurt?
Look at this."
Hazelton uncovered his head, displaying a court-plaster bandage underneath which clotted blood showed.
"Where in the world have you been?" Tom quivered.
"At sea," Harry answered, with an attempt at banter.
"What happened to you?"
"Tom, you remember the big black man I imagined that I saw last night?"