Hugh made gestures to indicate that they were peacefully disposed.  In doing so he purposely used the signal code and spelled out the one word, “friend.”  He saw the wildman’s thin face take on a sudden gleam of awakened interest, and he nodded his head in the affirmative, as if to reassure Hugh that they were not unwelcome.  From this the boy knew the stranger must at some time have been in the army, and that even while his brain was resting under a cloud he could still send and receive messages such as had been at one time his daily avocation.

They reached the side of their unfortunate companion.  He held out a hand to welcome Hugh.

“Oh!  I’m mighty glad you’ve come, fellows, I can tell you,” he told them, with a tremor in his voice.  “I’ve had a rotten time of it all around, and suffered terribly.  You see, I made a fool of myself, and tripped over a vine, so that I was thrown into a gully, with my left leg under me.  Snapped both bones, he says, just above the ankle, and a fine time I’ve got ahead of me this winter, with no skating, hockey, or anything worth living for.  But then it might have been worse, because my neck is worth more to me than my ankle.  But now I do hope you can get me home.  I never wanted to see home and mother one-half as much as now.”

“Yes, we’ve come in the big car, K. K.,” Hugh assured him.  “And we’ll fetch you home right away.  You ought to be looked after by Doctor Wambold; broken bones are not things to be trifled with, and while this party seems to have done the best he could it can only be a makeshift.”

“Don’t you believe it, Hugh,” said the injured boy warmly; “why, he’s a regular jim-dandy about such jobs.  I bet you he used to be an army surgeon in his younger days, from hints he’s let drop.  And then he knows the Signal Corps work right off the handle to boot, even if—­well, I won’t say what I meant to.  He’s been so kind and considerate to me; my own father couldn’t have been more tender.  I’ve guessed the secret of the old haunted quarry, Hugh!” which last he almost whispered in the other’s ear.

“Yes, I can say the same,” muttered Hugh, “because, as soon as I saw that he was using the regular army code of signals, I remembered about hearing how a certain family over near Hackensack had an uncle who used to be in the Signal Corps and was also later on an army surgeon, but who had suffered a sunstroke, and, well, was said to be a bit queer.”

“Yes,” whispered K. K., “this is the same party.  His name, I remember, was Dr. Coursens, and there was some talk last summer about his having got loose from the house and being drowned, they believed, in the river, though his body was never found.  Just to think of it, he’s been hiding here ever since, picking up his living almost like a wild animal.  Why, right now his clothes are nearly falling off his back, and if he tries to hang out here much longer he’ll be frozen to death.  But, Hugh, we must let his folks know where he is so they can come after him.  I believe, his mind is beginning to get a little clear again, for at times he talks quite reasonably.”