“What’s the trouble? Are you sick?”
“Fell down that time—the Indian was lookin’—kind of knocked my ankle over a rock——” He fell backward in his comrade’s arms, and Dirk realized that he had fainted.
That was Brick Ryan, all right—floundering along gamely without a word, although his ankle must have made him want to scream out at every step! Then a realization of the seriousness of the situation came over Dirk, and he began tearing at the loose collar at his injured friend’s throat.
Fortunately, he had not spent his time at Camp Lenape without picking up some bits of knowledge of first-aid. “When anyone faints, never try to move him—give him lots of air—lean him forward so the blood rushes to his head——” Muttering these half-remembered instructions, he bent the limp body forward and began rubbing Brick’s dangling wrists and forearms. He wished they had brought some water, but there had been no way to carry it——
Brick moaned weakly, and his eyelids fluttered. “What—what happened, huh? Is it Van? Whillikers, to think that F. X. A. Ryan passed out like a baby——”
“Don’t talk,” his friend ordered. “Just rest a minute. We’re safe for a while now. When you feel better I’ll go get you a drink.”
The injured boy fell back, his chest heaving irregularly. Dirk stripped off his sweater and folding it into the form of a pillow, placed it under Brick’s head, slightly downhill. His next care was to examine the ankle that had been struck when the boy had escaped, for a second time, from the half-breed’s clearing.
The ankle was swollen badly—no doubt about that. Dirk, feeling glad that their captors had not searched him, found his pocket-knife and carefully slashed away the strings of Brick’s shoe; he then tenderly removed it, although not without causing a slight groan from its owner. The stocking was also pulled off, exposing the wounded area.
The ankle looked puffy and discolored, but as near as Dirk could tell, it was not broken or even seriously sprained. But none the less, it was almost a catastrophe for a pair of fugitives in their plight. Without food of any kind, their ponchos and blankets left behind them when they fled from the hut, and with a savage pursuer no doubt already on their track, they must travel far and fast. Now, one of them was crippled, in pain.
“Brick,” said the boy urgently, “do you think you’ll be all right if I carry you a ways? We’ve got to get to water, and I think there’s a brook at the bottom of this hill somewhere. If you’re sure you won’t faint again——”