“We didn’t do it,” replied the boss tramp, “and the old man says we didn’t.”

“No; no man struck me—–­I fell,” chimed in the peddler weakly.

“We’ll help you take care of the old man,” offered the boss tramp.

“If you mean what you say,” Prescott proposed, “then take one of these lanterns and go down by the road to see what you can find out about Mr. Hinman’s horse and wagon.  Or did you see them as you came up?”

“No, for we came through the woods,” replied the boss tramp.  “I’ll take the lantern.  Come with me, Joe.”

Out into the dark plunged the two tramps, to face the heavily falling rain.  For once, at any rate, they were doing something useful.

At a signal from Dick, Greg put some water on the stove to heat.  Prescott found some clean cloth in their wardrobe box and bathed the wound on Mr. Hinman’s temple, then washed his entire face.  The wound proved to be broad, rather than deep, and was such as might have been caused by falling on sharp pebbles.  Then Dick bound up the wound.

Next, Dick and Greg undressed Mr. Hinman and rubbed him down, then rolled him in dry blankets and laid him on another cot not far from the stove.

“Come out, you other hoboes,” called the boss tramp’s voice.  “Come and help us right the peddler’s wagon and bring that and the horse up here.”

The other two tramps went reluctantly out into the storm.

A bottle full of hot water, wrapped in a towel, was placed at the peddler’s feet.

In the meantime the tramps got the wagon into a sheltered position, then staked the horse out close to the place where the Gridley horse was tethered.  This having been accomplished, they came back to the camp, to find a new aroma on the air.

“That stuff smells good.  What is it?” asked the boss tramp.

“Ginger tea.  We’ve made some to give to Mr. Hinman.”

“Will you give us some, too?” asked the tramp.  “We’re all of us chilled and hoarse.”

“I will,” Dick nodded, “if you men will undertake to fill the buckets before you try to dry yourselves.  Otherwise, we shall run out of water.”

Grunting, the boss tramp and one of his companions listened while Dick directed them where to find running water.  Out again into the storm they lurched, and soon had all the water buckets filled and in the tent.

While the tramps dried their clothing, Prescott kept his word about making ginger tea.

“This seems like the best stuff I’ve had since I was a baby,” remarked the boss tramp, in a somewhat grateful voice.

“Maybe that’s because you’ve worked for it,” suggested Reade thoughtfully.

“I wonder,” grunted the hobo.  “I wonder.”

Later on Dick and his chums prepared a supper, of which all partook except the peddler, who needed sleep and warmth more.

The tramps slept on the floor, later on.  Tom, Dave and Harry slept on their cots, while the other three high school boys remained awake.