“We won’t consider that now,” spoke Jerry. “I have an idea it had something to do with those men who are digging the yellow clay, but I can’t be sure. Our first care must be to get the professor attended to, and we can ask him questions later—if he gets better,” Jerry added, dubiously.
There had come into his mind not one thought that the little scientist might have been disloyal to him and his mother. Jerry was big hearted, and big minded, enough not to consider that for a moment.
True, Dr. Snodgrass might have played into the hands of the enemy, knowingly or unknowingly; but, for all that, he was now in danger, and Jerry was not the lad to hold back.
“He spoke of letters—papers,” said Ned, vaguely.
“Yes. Maybe they’re in there,” returned Jerry, nodding toward the specimen boxes and leather cases, which had been near the professor when they picked him up after his fall over the cliff. “We won’t disturb them, though, until we find out how this is going to end,” and he looked at the unconscious form.
“Well, let’s do something,” suggested Ned.
“Sure,” assented Bob. “But what?”
“The doctor—first of all,” exclaimed Jerry. “Ned, do you think you and Andy could make the trip in the boat down to where that old hermit lived? He may know where we can find a local physician.”
“Of course we can go!” cried Ned.
“Then you’d better start. I don’t know just what sort of treatment may be needed, but it seems as though it will mean an operation. And the sooner it’s done, the better chance Professor Snodgrass will have.”