"The Wolf stabbed him. We have got to get him to a
hospital."
"I'll get the car," said Hen, and was off like a flash.
They lifted the Weasel into the car and laid him back on the
cushions; the boys rolled up the rugs, and their coats to prop
him up. Again he opened his eyes.
"Don't start," he said feebly. "I must tell you something."
He turned his head toward Beany. "I know you," he said. "What
made you leave the Wolf and the little chap? I saw you tracking
them. You ought to have kept right after them."
"That was my brother," explained Beany. "We look just alike."
He kept a careful hand on the wound.
"Let's get to a hospital," said Hen.
"Don't you move!" commanded the Weasel. "If you want to save
that kid, the one with the Wolf, you have about half an hour to
do it in. Don't mind me. He has done for me. I knew he'd get
me, but I will bite yet. Tell him that, will you? Tell him the
Weasel has bitten; bitten to the bone. Lift me a little," he
asked, then continued brokenly:
"The Wolf is head of a system of spies in America. They have
headquarters in Mexico, St. Louis and 'Frisco, as well as here.
The Wolf is the head; he is master of them all. I don't know who
he is.
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