"Don't talk about it," said Paul. "It makes me hungry."
Suddenly his horse shied, and the cadet, looking to see what caused it, beheld a dark object, half buried in the snow, at the side of the road.
"What's that?" called Dick, who had dropped a little to the rear.
"I don't know. Better take a look."
Dick forced his rather unwilling steed up to the object. The next moment he uttered a cry.
"It's a man!" he exclaimed.
He leaped off his horse, and bent closely to the black, huddled mass. Then he reached over and took hold of it.
"Here, Paul!" cried Dick. "Help me!"
"What is it?"
"It's Dutton, and he's unconscious and half frozen. Must have fallen from his horse and struck on his head! We must get him to shelter in a hurry."
Paul was quickly at his companion's side. He helped Dick lift the unconscious youth from the pile of snow. Dutton seemed to be trying to say something, but though his lips moved no sound came from them.
"What's the matter? Are you hurt?" asked Dick. "How did it happen?"
Dutton murmured something, but the words "horse" and "Stiver" were all they could distinguish.
