searing a path across his side. Disinfectant was then applied, the stranger gritting his teeth with pain, and after that the bandages were put in place.
"Now we can put him to bed. Can you walk, stranger?"
The man made an effort to rise, and then fell back weakly upon the couch.
"I'm afraid―I can't!"
"All right, then, we'll carry you. Give me a hand with him, lads."
Between them, they carried the wounded man upstairs into a plain but comfortably furnished room. Here he was put to bed and covered with warm blankets. With a sigh of relief, he closed his eyes.
"He's weak from loss of blood. That's mostly what's the matter with him," the farmer said. "We'll let him have a good sleep."
They left the room, and when they went out into the kitchen again the Hardy boys told the farmer and his wife of the strange adventure they had just been through. The farmer listened thoughtfully.
"Queer!" he observed. "Mighty queer!" Then, glancing significantly at his wife, he said: "What d'you think of it, Mabel?"
"I think the same as you, Bill, and you know it. Most like it's been another of them smuggling mix-ups."
