farm,
for he looked thin, and illy nourished, as far as Fred could see at a
glance. "Perhaps I can be of some assistance to you, poor fellow. I
know a little about setting bones, and such things. And we promise to
stay with you, and do what we can to help."

He proceeded to make an examination without any delay or squeamishness.
The result was that he discovered a serious fracture of both bones of the
leg. Fortunately the break was some inches above the ankle, and if
properly attended to, would not result in any permanent injury.

Fred did all that was possible under such conditions, while his three
chums hovered near, ready to lend a hand whenever he asked it. The
injured boy cried out and moaned a number of times during the time Fred
was working, but after Fred had made the rudest kind of a splint, and
wrapped the leg with some rags torn from an old linen fly-net that was
hanging from a hook near by, the wounded lad admitted that he felt a
"heap better."

For the first time Fred began to take notice of him other than as a
patient. He found that the boy kept his head lowered, as though
endeavoring to avoid curious eyes, and Fred wondered why this should be
so, when they had certainly proven themselves to be very good friends of
his.

The mystery was, however, soon explained, when Colon was heard to give
utterance to a sudden exclamation, and cry out:

"Why, what's this? I've sure met this chap before, or my name isn't
Colon. It's Tom Flanders, don't you see, Bristles? He's been gone from
home a long while now, and his folks didn't know what'd come of him, and
to think that he's been working on this measly little old farm in the
bush here all the time."

Fred became intensely interested in his patient. He had not happened to
know the Tom Flanders mentioned, but then he had heard more or less about
him. It was easy enough now to know why the other was so embarrassed.
He had been hiding from everybody, no doubt working here under another
name, and hearing not a word as to how affairs in Riverport were
progressing.

"Are you Tom Flanders?" he asked the other, quickly.

The wounded boy had turned white and then red several times under the
flow of fear, distress and other emotions. He now looked into Fred's
eyes boldly.

"I s'pose it ain't no use in denyin' that same, because Bristles
Carpenter and Colon here know me," he went on to say, doggedly, after
drawing a long breath. "Might as well own up an