“Listen, Bart,” replied Frank with a warning glance at his companions not to reveal prematurely the whole story. “You got a knock on the head in the fighting that put you out of business for a while and we’ve been a little scared. But you’re all right now.” “Sure, I’m all right,” answered Bart, “and I’ll be ready tomorrow to take another crack at the Huns. How is the battle going?” “All to the good,” answered Frank. “But you’d better lie still for a while. We’ll put you on my bed and you won’t have even a headache in the morning.” Bart protested, but they overruled him and tucked him in the blankets, where he promptly went to sleep. Then Frank went in search of one of the doctors who came promptly. He listened with the greatest interest while the three chums told their story. Then he made as careful an examination of Bart as he could without waking him. “He’ll be all right, I think,” was his verdict. “He’s fairly well nourished. I suppose he’s found plenty of food in the wake of the army. And the life in the open air has built him up after his hospital experience. The only trouble has been with his mind, and from what you tell me he’s come to himself again. Of course he’ll have to take things easy for the next few days and you mustn’t tell him now about his hospital escapade. Let him think the injury happened to him yesterday. We’ll take him along in one of the ambulances, and I venture to say that in a week he’ll be with you again as well as ever.” “I can’t forgive myself for knocking him down,” said Frank mournfully. The doctor laughed. “Best thing you ever did in your life,” he said. “The blow he got on the head was just what he needed to shake him into sanity again. Medical history is full of just such cases. You’ve got the proof of it right here. He was undoubtedly insane when he came into the tent to take your blanket. He knew that he was cold and his only thought was to get something to keep him warm.” “But why should he happen to strike our tent instead of somebody else’s?” asked Billy. “Because he knew it was yours,” answered the doctor. “In his poor twisted brain he had recognized you and knew vaguely that you were his friends. Probably he has been dodging around somewhere and kept track of you.” The boys’ eyes grew moist as the pathos of it all came upon them. The doctor left them some stimulating medicine, promised to send the ambulance around in the morning and took his leave. There was no more sleep for the boys the rest of that night. They were strung to too high a pitch of excitement and delight. They felt as though they were treading on air. Bart was back with them again, dear old Bart, whose absence they had mourned as though he had been their brother, brave old Bart, with the heart of a lion, who had stood at their side in a score of desperate fights. For hours they sat outside the tent so that they would not disturb the sleeper, and talked in low voices of the great thing that had happened.