But as Bunny looked he saw that the strange man had landed on a pile of grass that had been cut and raked up that morning by Bunker Blue, a boy who worked at Mr. Brown’s fish and boat dock.
“The pile of grass was like a cushion,” thought Bunny to himself, remembering how once he had fallen on a pile of hay in a field when he and his sister were in the country on Grandpa’s farm. Bunny had not been hurt by his fall, and he was hoping the man was not much hurt by his tumble.
That the man was not dead was proved a moment later when he moved slightly, groaned and opened his eyes.
“Hello, what’s your name? Are you much hurt?” asked Jed Winkler, who was in the crowd that had rushed up the street after the runaway.
“My name is Pott—Philip Pott,” was the faint answer. “I was coming here to look for my son. He’s lost—my son Harry is lost. At least, so they say—went down with the schooner Mary Bell. The treasure is lost too—the treasure is gone! Oh, if I could only find my lost son!” Then the man closed his eyes and lay very quiet.
“He’s a sailor, just as I used to be!” exclaimed old Jed Winkler, whom Bunny Brown and his sister knew very well. “He’s badly hurt, too. He’ll have to lay up in the sick bay a spell, I reckon! Catch hold of him, somebody, and we’ll lift him!”
While Bunny Brown and Sue looked on, their mother and Uncle Tad, an old soldier who lived with the Brown family, came out of the house.
“Bring the poor man into our house,” ordered Mrs. Brown. “I have telephoned for the doctor.”
“Oh, Mother! He fell off his horse right in front of Bunny and me!” exclaimed Sue, running toward her mother. “We were playing store!”
“He flew right over the bushes,” added Bunny.