Some one reluctantly started, then, with the help of others, the colonel lifted the apparently lifeless body and carried it to the bed.
The miller's son explained to the colonel that he had passed the house about half an hour earlier, that he had noticed a light and the open door and had decided to stop a moment to see the joiner, when, to his horror, he saw that he was dead; that Meadow Joggi was standing in the room, holding a gold piece in his hand; and that Joggi had laughed as he looked at the gold.
Meadow Joggi, so called because he lived in the meadow, was a man who had lost his reason, but whom people had always regarded as perfectly harmless. The neighborhood supported him, and he often helped them with simple work, which he managed to do fairly well. The miller's son had told him to stay where he was until some one came, and he had obeyed, still clutching his gold piece and smiling, not in the least concerned about himself.
The physician came at last and hastened to examine the body.
"He was struck on the back of his head; it is a bad wound," said the doctor.
"Do you think that he is dead, doctor?" asked Colonel Ritter.
"No; he is not dead, but he is very near it. Bring me sponges, bandages, and some water." The men searched the house in vain for the things that were needed.
"I wish there were a woman here to find things!" exclaimed the exasperated physician. "A woman knows intuitively what a sick person needs and where to find it."
"Trina can come," said the colonel. "Will some one please run over to my house and tell Mrs. Ritter to send her at once."