The little boy was safe. He opened his eyes and looked about. His face was smeared with mud, one of his shoes was gone, his foot seemed to be twisted. It was all too plain that he had been within the suction pipe, within the devouring jaws of that monster serpent, when his frantic rescuer had dragged him back. But he was safe.
His rescuer was utterly crazed. Yet he seemed to know Tom.
"Safe—alive——" he muttered.
"Yes, he's safe; lie still. Get the doctor, some of you fellows—quick."
"Send, send—them away—all. You know—do you—I'm square—yes?"
"Surely," said Tom soothingly. "Lie still."
"He's alive?"
"Yes."
"Listen, come close. I'll tell you—now. I murdered a kid once—now—now I've—I've saved one——"
"Shh. It's the same one, Harlowe."