“I ran an Indian arrow head into my foot,” answered Jerry. “I guess you’ll have to get it out, Professor.”
“Looks as though we were going to have trouble with these negroes,” put in Ned. “We must look out.”
“Yo’ uns had better make tracks away from heah!” went on the leader of the black men. “We don’t like strangers heah!”
“We can’t go until I attend to this lad’s injury,” spoke Mr. Snodgrass firmly. “Lie down Jerry, and I’ll get the arrow out. This confirms my suspicions that the mound was built by Indians.”
“I’m pretty sure of it, judging from the way my foot feels,” said the injured lad.
He was sitting on one of the lower stone steps, and Ned was taking off his shoe and stocking. He had to cut the leather and cloth in order to remove them from around the arrow head which was still sticking firmly into the fleshy part of Jerry’s foot. The latter bore the pain bravely, though he had to grit his teeth to keep from yelling as Ned’s hands came in contact with the stone, moving it in the tender wound.
“Git away from heah!” ordered the negro leader. “This is our property an’ we don’t want nobody heah!”
“You’ll have to wait until I fix up this lad’s foot,” insisted the professor.
“We uns ain’t goin’ to wait.”