As they entered the bungalow, after knocking off more boards, they saw, lying on the rug and a piece of carpet in the corner, a boy who, when he tried to stand up, almost fell.
"I—I'm sorry," he began, "but I——"
"Now don't say another word!" exclaimed Daddy Martin. "We'll take you to the house and you can talk afterward—after you've had something to eat and when you get warm. You'll be all right! Don't worry!"
Picking the boy up in his arms Mr. Martin carried him through the snow to the warm house. There the Curlytops and others gathered about him.
"He isn't Hal," whispered Janet after a look.
"No," answered her brother. "That isn't Hal."
"But he's lame," went on Janet, as she saw the boy limping across the room to a chair near the fire which Mrs. Martin made comfortable for him with blankets. "He's lame a whole lot!"
The Curlytops were anxious to hear the boy's story, but Daddy Martin would not let him talk until he had eaten some food and taken some warm milk.
"Now we'll listen to you," said Uncle Frank. "How did you come to go into the bungalow?"
"I went in there to get out of the storm," answered the boy. "My name is Arthur Wharton, and I used to be in the same Crippled Children's Home with Hal Chester. That's how I knew your name and where you lived. Hal told me. And when I was taken out of the Home I came to Cresco to find you, for I thought maybe you would help me," and he looked at Daddy Martin.