CHAPTER XII.
SAVED FROM THE RUINS.
“The groans seem to come from over there,” said Harry, after an interval of searching among the scattered beams and timbers.
“Where?”
“Right there where the remains of that stone chimney are standing. Phew! what a strong odor! It makes my head ache.”
“Dynamite,” was Ralph’s brief response; “that shows I was right. It was dynamite that blew up the hut.”
Right by the chimney that Harry Ware had indicated was a confused pile of boards and scantlings. As the boys reached the spot a hollow moan came from beneath the tumbled mass of wreckage.
“Here, boys! It’s right under here!” cried Ralph. “Hurry now and tear this stuff away. It may be a matter of life and death.”
The boys worked feverishly for a few minutes and then they uncovered an arm, and a minute later an unconscious form was stretched out before their eyes.
“Why, it’s a boy!” exclaimed Percy Simmons, as the white face of the inanimate form was illumined by a faint glow from the smoldering hut.
“So it is. Just a kid. See, there’s a bucket over there and a well yonder. Make haste and get some water, Harry,” said Ralph. “We’ll bathe this cut on his forehead.”