Jack started,
rubbed his eyes, and peered again.
"Is it possible? Can I be mistaken?" he whispered.
The figure came nearer. Jack, who had come to a halt, broke into a run.
"Mark! Mark!" he cried joyously. "Oh, you've come back! Where have you
been?"
Jack was about to clasp his chum in his arms when he saw that Mark's
arm was in a sling, and that his face was all bandaged up, so that
scarcely any of his features showed. Had it not been for the clothes,
and a certain stoutness of which Mark never could seem to get rid, Jack
would scarcely have known his friend.
"Why, Mark, what happened?" cried Jack. "Have you met with an accident?
Where have you been? In a hospital? What became of you? Why didn't you
wait for me?"
"I can't answer all those questions at once," was the reply, and Jack
thought Mark's voice was curiously muffled and hoarse, entirely unlike
his usual tones. But he ascribed that to the bandages around the mouth.
"Well, answer one at a time then," said Jack, and there was an
undefinable, strange air about his chum which cooled Jack's first
impulse of gladness.
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