CHAPTER XIV
THE BOILING SPRING
Mr. Addison was a full-grown man, but he was quite old, and not very heavy. In fact he was so light that the three sturdy boy chums easily carried him out from under the bushes to a cleared place along the path. The hermit only moaned as he was moved, and remained unconscious.
"Let us take off our coats, fellows," suggested Sammy. "We'll spread them out on the snow, and make a bed for him."
The day was quite warm, so the boys would not be likely to take cold from removing their coats, and soon they had made a more comfortable place for the aged man than the bare ground on which he had fallen.
"I wonder what could have happened to him?" said Bob.
"He must have fallen, and hurt himself," spoke Frank. "But neither his arms or legs are broken, as far as I can tell."
"I guess it's his head," remarked Sammy. "Probably that's what makes him senseless. I wish Mr. Jessup would hurry back."
"And to think that a little while ago he pushed us into a snowbank!" murmured Bob. "He couldn't do it now."
"No," said Sammy, softly. "Poor old man! I guess he's had lots of trouble."
Indeed, as the aged hermit lay there on the boys' coats, which they had partly folded over him, his face showed many wrinkles of care and suffering, as well as of age. Truly
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