Danny was glad to find he had put a large, clean handkerchief in his pocket before starting. He knew enough about first aid to realise the danger of putting on an open wound anything that is at all dirty. So he opened out the handkerchief and laid the part that had been folded up inside, on the wound. What could he use as a bandage? There was nothing handy.
So, with a sigh of regret, he realised he must sacrifice his beautiful new brown neckerchief. He took it off and folded it neatly into a “narrow bandage.” This he tied firmly around the young man’s head, securing it with a reef knot.
“You’re a bit shaky, sir, aren’t you?” he said. “My home is in the next village. Won’t you come back and rest? Mother will give you some tea, and I’ll run for a doctor. I think your head will want stitching.”
“No, thank you,” said the young man quickly, looking down the road again. “I assure you I am quite all right now. I was just a little stunned. I thank you for your assistance, my little friend.”
There was something curious about the way the man spoke. Danny wondered what it was. “Foreigner,” he said to himself, as he picked up the bicycle and held it for the stranger.
“Could you tell me the way to Thornhurst?” asked the man.
Danny thought a moment, and told him as well as he could.
“Thank you,” said the stranger. He was about to mount his bicycle when a thought seemed to strike him. Turning to the Cub, “Little boy,” he said, “should any person ask you if you have seen me on this road, tell them you have seen no one—no one at all.”
Danny grinned.
“Sorry, sir,” he said. “Can’t tell a lie.”