Motor Boat Boys on the Great Lakes; or, Exploring the Mystic Isle of Mackinac. Louis Arundel
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Before he could make any reply to his companion’s remark, once more that thrilling sound came to their ears. And this time even George realized that it was unmistakably a human groan.
“It came from over here!” exclaimed Jack, as without the slightest hesitation he sprang across the floor of the place.
George following close upon his heels, saw him bending over the figure of a man, who was lying upon the floor in a doubled-up position.
“What has happened? Did one of the horses kick him?” gasped George, always a bundle of nerves.
“No, I don’t think so,” replied Jack. “I can find no sign of an injury about him. It’s more likely a fit of some kind he’s just recovering from. Lots of people are subject to such things, you know.”
“Say, that’s just what;” declared George. “I had an uncle who used to drop like a rock right in the street or anywhere.”
“What did they do with him at such times?” demanded Jack, anxiously.
“Well, nobody seemed able to do much,” replied the other. “I saw my father loosen the collar of his shirt, and lay him out on his back. A little water on his face might help; but in most fits it takes some time to recover. But I thought I saw his eyelids twitch right then, Jack.”
“Yes, he’s going to come out of it,” replied Jack, as he managed to get the old man into what seemed like a more comfortable position.
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