"We've got the other one, too!"
It was Jerry Dawson who had spoken. Dave knew that the statement could refer to no other than his missing chum. Dave was in something of a flutter of suspense. Then his eye brightened and a cheery smile overspread his face, as he caught the words in a dearly familiar tone:
"Say, do you want to kill a fellow?"
It was Hiram who spoke, in a resentful and disgusted voice. Its accents were as pert and ringing as ever, and Dave was overjoyed to know that his loyal comrade was alive and apparently unhurt.
"Say, Dawson," here broke in Ridgely, "I want to speak to you."
"Put this fellow in with Dashaway," ordered Jerry, and then the door of Dave's prison place was pulled open. A familiar form came limping and stumbling across the threshold, and the door was slammed to and locked after him.
"Hiram!" cried Dave in genuine delight.
He drew back as his friend faced him. He had noticed that Hiram limped. Now he saw that one arm was in a sling. Besides that, Hiram's face was one mass of cuts and scratches. One eye was nearly closed.
"Oh, Hiram!" cried Dave aghast.
"Look is if I'd been through a threshing machine, do I?" grinned the plucky lad.