t?" the girls cried in chorus.

"It's Mr. Rat, the piano player," said Mrs. Gilligan, adding as she
pushed past them and ran to the door: "Did you hear that awful noise
outside, girls?"

"Did we hear it?" they cried, following her.

"Oh, Mrs. Gilligan, what do you suppose it was?" asked Violet, pressing
close to her.

"Somebody is probably hurt," answered the woman, adding as though to
herself: "Terribly hurt! Hope it ain't the boys!"

CHAPTER XXIII

THE WRECKED AEROPLANE

The girls never remembered very clearly what happened after that. They
had a vague and confused recollection of seeing the boys gathered around
something in the bushes at the brook that groaned a little and made queer
sputtering noises.

Then the boys bent down and began extricating the groaning thing from the
wreck of something.

"Chet, what is it?" cried Billie, with an impression that she was living
a dream. She tried to push past him, but her brother stopped her.

"Stay away, Sis," he ordered. "The poor fellow's hurt--we don't know how
badly--and I'd rather you would go back to the house."

"But if he's hurt, there's all the more need for us," insisted Billie,
sudden decision in her voice. "We know first aid. Let us past, boys."

Not exactly knowing why they obeyed her, the boys drew aside and she ran
to the side of the prostrate figure on the ground, the other girls
following half reluctantly.

The boys had succeeded in removing the man from the wreckage--one
glance about them told the girls that the wreck had once been an
aeroplane--and the man, who was elderly, lay quite still, looking up at
them with sick eyes.

"Oh, can't we get him up to the house?" cried Billie, clasping her hands
in pity and looking appealingly at Mrs. Gilligan. "Then we can send for
a doctor--"

But it was the hurt man himself who interrupted.

"I--I'm all in," he said, speaking with great effort. "It won't do any
good to move me--"

"But it might," cried Violet, coming down and leaning compassionately
over him while her eyes filled with tears. "Do you think--it would
hurt--too much--"

"Come on. Let's try it, fellows," said Teddy, speaking with sudden
decision. "We can't leave him here to die, perhaps," he added softly. "We
can at least make an attempt to save his life."

He bent down, and, putting a hand under each of the man's arms, lifted
him slightly, eliciting a moan of pain.

"You take his feet, Chet, and, Ferd, you support his ba