thumb, and let a few drops enter the eye of the sleeper.
The patient shot up one hand as if a hot cinder had struck his eyeball. He rubbed the afflicted optic, gasped, squirmed, and came half-upright on one arm. Both eyes opened, one blinking as though smarting with pain.
He wavered so weakly that Ralph braced an arm behind to support him.
"Steady now!" said the doctor, touching his patient with a prodding finger to attract his attention. "Who are you, my friend?"
The boy stared blankly at him as he caught the sound of his voice, and then at the three boys. He did not smile, and there was a peculiarly vacant expression on his face.
Then he moved his lips as if his throat was parched and stiff, and said huskily:
"Hungry."
The doctor shrugged his shoulders, puzzled and amused. Ralph himself half-smiled. The demand was so distinctively human it cheered him.
The patient kept looking around as if expecting food to be brought to him. The young physician studied him silently. Then he projected half a dozen quick, sharp questions. His patient did not even appear to hear him. He looked reproachfully about him, and again spoke:
