"Them rascals, Mr. Craven and Sharpley, pretend that your mother is crazy, just because she won't hear to your bein' dead, and they're takin' her to the crazy 'sylum. I couldn't stand it, and I run out to see if I couldn't get help."
"The blamed skunk!" exclaimed Mr. Tarbox, swinging his arms threateningly. "Let me get a hold of him and he won't never know what hurt him."
Meanwhile, Craven and Sharpley had forced Mrs. Craven into a close carriage, and they were just driving out of the yard when our hero and his friend rushed to the rescue.
Mr. Tarbox sprang to the horses' heads and brought them to a stop, while Frank hurried to the door of the coach, which he pulled open. Inside were Mrs. Craven, her husband and Sharpley.
They looked angrily to the door, but their dismay may be conceived when they met the angry face of one whom both believed to be dead.
"Oh, Frank!" screamed Mrs. Craven. "You are come home at last."
"Yes, mother. Let me help you out of the carriage."
"You shall not go!" said Mr. Craven, desperately. "Frank, your mother's insane. We are taking her to the asylum. It is for her good."
"Save me, Frank!" implored Mrs. Craven.