"Veil, be jeerful. Vatefer ve findt, Matt, schust be jeerful. Oof I can't go py Tenfer in dot car it vill be a plow in der face; aber vatch und see how I took it."
Low bushes lined the roadside. Matt, not paying much attention to Carl's last remarks, was moving off in the direction of the bushes, following the strange broad trail.
Parting the branches at the outer edge of the thicket, he moved into the tangled undergrowth. Carl, who was pushing along behind him, saw him stoop down and disappear below the tops of the bushes. The next moment, the Dutch boy heard a startled exclamation, and Matt straightened up quickly. His face, which he turned toward Carl, had gone suddenly white.
"Come here, Carl!" he called.
"You findt der moofing pag, hey?" asked Carl, floundering through the brush.
Then, a second later, Carl's face also blanched.
Coming close to Matt, and looking down, he saw the form of a man curled up in a little cleaned space in the thicket. The man's hat lay beside him, and about his forehead was tied a blood-stained handkerchief. His face was pallid and deathlike, and his eyes were closed.
"Himmelblitzen!" whispered Carl. "Iss he deadt, I vonder?"
Matt knelt down and laid a hand on the man's breast; then, lifting up one of his limp wrists, he pressed his fingers against the pulse.
"He's alive," said Matt.