“In which case,” he said, “his recovery is problematical.  How did you happen to pick him up?” asked the doctor, who knew the boys quite well.

Jack told him as briefly as he could, and received the physician’s warm congratulations.

“It was fortunate that you happened along,” he said.  “Otherwise a long exposure to the sun, unattended, might have resulted in the man’s death.  Have you any idea who he is?”

“Not the least,” replied Jack.  “All that we know is that, just after he had plodded round the corner as if he was tired after walking a long way, that auto came whizzing round and struck him.  Somehow he doesn’t look like a tramp.”

“No, he doesn’t,” agreed the doctor.  “However, he should be conscious to-morrow if there are no complications, and we can find out.  One thing is certain, he ought to be grateful to you.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” laughed Jack, much relieved to hear that the man wasn’t going to die.  “It was all we could do.”

They drove back through the village.  Outside the court-house was quite a crowd.  Events were few and far between in sleepy Nestorville, and the arrest of the autoists had caused quite a sensation.  From a friend in the crowd the boys learned that the three men were being arraigned before Squire Stevens.

“Let’s go in,” suggested Tom.

“All right,” nodded Jack, and they climbed out of the Wondership and ascended the long steps leading into the court-house.  As they entered Squire Stevens’ court-room, Chief Bivins spied them.

“Here they be now, Squire,” he said.  “Glad you came, boys.  It saved me the trouble of serving subpoenas on you.  These are the boys who saw the whole thing, judge.”

“Was it an accident?” asked Squire Stevens, a dignified-looking old man with an imposing white beard.

“Yes, entirely so,” said Jack, who did not bear any malice.

“But after they had struck the man, these young men ran away?”

“Yes,” Jack was forced to admit.  The men shot him a glance of hatred.

“I understand you have been to the hospital,” went on Squire Stevens.  “Did you learn how badly the man they hit is hurt?”

“The doctor told us that his injuries don’t appear to be serious,” said Jack, “but that it was possible there might be complications.”

“In that case I shall have to hold you young men under bond,” said the squire.  “Will you be able to furnish it?”

“In any amount,” said the man who had driven the car, in a loud, boastful voice.  “My father, Evans Masterson, owns the Boston Moon, the evening paper.  If I can telephone to him he will soon get us out of this scrape.”

“Very well, then,” said the Squire, frowning slightly at young Masterson’s tone.  “I shall fix your bond at $500, as you were driving the car and directly responsible for the accident, and that of your companions at $100 each.”

Young Masterson gave an ironical bow.  Chief Biff Bivins escorted him to the telephone.  The elder Masterson, who had had a good deal of experience with his son’s escapades, at first administered a lecture over the ’phone which ended by his saying that he would come post-haste to Nestorville and extricate his son and his chums from their unpleasant fix.