“No! I didn’t fall!” he exclaimed. “I was shoved over the cliff. He wanted to get me out of the way so he could claim everything! He’s a villain!”
“Who?” asked Ned quickly.
“Who? Who else but Carson Blowitz! I suppose he thinks I am dead, and he can have all that is on the ship! But I’ll—”
The man stopped suddenly, and a spasm of pain passed over his face.
“What is it?” asked Jerry.
“My arm—Oh, I’m afraid it is broken!”
The boys remembered how the left arm of the man was doubled up under him in a peculiar manner. He had doubtless fallen on it.
“Wait a minute and we’ll lift you up so that you will rest more comfortably,” said Jerry, and, with the aid of his chums he made from their coats and some seaweed a rude sort of bed for the man.
There was no doubt that the stranger’s left arm was broken. It hung limply down, and the least motion of it produced terrible pain. Fortunately the man did not again lose his senses, and he directed the boys how to bandage the arm close to his side, with their handkerchiefs tied together, so that the injured member would not swing about, and further splinter the broken bones.
“Do you think you can walk down to our boat?” asked Jerry. “We can take you to a doctor, for I think you need one.”