"Every cent." Mortimer Arbuckle gave a groan. "We are now out here penniless, my son."
"No we are not, father. I asked Pawnee Brown for the loan of ten dollars and he gave me twenty, and said I could have more if I needed it."
"A good man as generous as he is brave," murmured Mortimer Arbuckle. "Would the world had more of such fellows."
"Pawnee Brown and Jack Rasco are the best fellows in the world!" answered the youth "But, come, let me carry you to yonder house, where you can get dry and also get something to eat."
He assisted his parent to his feet, then lifted the man to his back and started off. A backwoodsman saw him coming, and ran to meet him. Soon Mortimer Arbuckle was in the house and lying tucked in on a warm couch.
A relapse followed, coming almost immediately after father and son had exchanged stories and detail. In alarm Dick sent off the backwoodsman for a doctor. The medical man was half an hour in coming. After a thorough examination he looked grave.
"The man must be kept absolutely quiet," he said. "If you have been talking to him it has done him more harm than good. You had better go away and leave him among strangers."
