He guessed right.  As they approached the farmhouse they discerned in the darkness a figure coming toward them with a stable lantern.  The figure swung this light to and fro, up and down, in wig-wag signaling, and Tom replied by whistling shrilly two short blasts, which meant “All right, we’re coming.”  Then the figure hailed them with a whoop of joy, and ran forward.

It was Arthur Cameron.  Leaving Mrs. Kenyon in Doctor Kane’s charge, he had slipped out of the house by the kitchen door so that his impatience and anxiety might not be observed, and, obtaining the stable lantern, he had gone forth to see if the search party was not yet returning.

When Ralph entered the house, leaning on Sherwood and Arthur, his mother burst into tears of thankfulness for his return and of pride in what he had achieved.  She was distressed on learning about his sprained ankle, and, following Doctor Kane’s directions, she lost no time in the preparation of hot and cold applications and bandages.  Ralph was sent to bed as soon as he had modestly related his adventures, and had drunk a hot milk-punch (which he declared was “nasty”) in order to offset any chill which he might have contracted by sleeping out in the open.

“As if I weren’t used to sleeping practically in the open, every night of the year!” he complained to Sherwood, as he slid down between the sheets, which his mother had carefully warmed.

“Do as you’re told, and don’t grumble, old top!” laughingly replied Tom.  “Hope your wounds and sprains and bruises and so forth will be much better tomor-----I mean, later in the day.  It’s 2 A.M. now.  Good night!”

“Good night!  I’ll see you later.”

It was arranged that Doctor Kane, Tom, and the boys should spend the remainder of the night there; Mrs. Kenyon would not hear of any one of them going over to Tom’s house at that hour.  So the doctor retired to the spare bedroom, Sherwood and Arthur occupied a broad couch or divan in the little parlor, where Tom Walsh and his young cousin slept even more comfortably on an extra mattress on the floor.  Everyone was in good spirits, although tired and very sleepy; and the sun was high in the heavens before any one of that household awoke.

Anyone?  No, not quite; for, with characteristic thoughtfulness, Tom Walsh, waking earlier than the others, stole quietly out into the kitchen and began to make the fire and grind the coffee for breakfast.  Mrs. Kenyon, hearing him, came downstairs at once.  She, alone, had scarcely slept at all that night.  Her fears for Ralph’s health, as well as the thought of having soon to go all the way to New York with Doctor Kane and undergo an operation, had banished slumber.  Seeing Walsh engaged in his kindly efforts, she smiled as she laid a restraining hand on his arm.

“Tom Walsh, you dear man, go right back and get your forty winks!” she said.  “What do you mean by this?—–­and in my house, too!”