"Whee! is that so?" exclaimed Ethan.
"Mazie's 'daddy' for a cookey!" cried X-Ray, always the first to alight on a solution to a puzzling question.
"Yes, that's who he is," Phil went on, jerking out his words somewhat, because he was using up his wind in running. "He broke it while hunting for the child; and has been nigh crazy ever since. Struck him he might get help from us. Started to actually drag himself all the way there. Petered out in the end. Bad shape, too, but think I can pull him through all right!"
"You want us to help get him home; is that it, Phil?" demanded Ethan.
"Yes, we've just got to do it. Poor fellow needs lots of attention. He'd likely die if left much longer. I think gangrene would set in, and finish him. Glad I fetched along my little medicine case, with bandages and such things. Thought one of us might get into trouble, and need it. Handy thing to have around in the woods."
"It sure is," agreed X-Ray Tyson; "but how can we carry a man all the way to the cabin, Phil? If he's that bad hurt it's going to be a hard job."
"Huh! see this hatchet?" demanded Ethan, flourishing the article in question before the eyes of the other. "Well, with that sharp edge it won't be a hard thing to tinker up some kind of stretcher. That's what Phil had in mind when he told you to fetch some rope ends along."
"Just what I did," Phil assured them; "but hold on now, and save your breath for running; you'll need it all. We'll get there in ten minutes more, I think."
About that time had elapsed when Phil sighted the spot where he had left the wounded man. He knew it from the land marks he had impressed on his mind. And both going and coming the boy had maintained a constant watch, so as to make sure that he continued in the direct line he had laid out.
"There he is!" he suddenly exclaimed, as he saw a hand feebly waving from the covert of bushes.