“I can’t be thankful enough to you boys,” said the wounded man. “I don’t know what would have become of me if you hadn’t happened to have seen Blowitz push me from the cliff. I—I wish—”
Mr. De Vere seemed overcome by a sudden weakness, and fell back on the pile of coats and seaweed.
“We had better get him to a doctor,” said Ned. “He may be more injured than we suppose.”
“I—I’ll be all right in a little while—that is all but my arm,” said the injured man faintly. “It was just a little weakness. If you will give me some more water—”
They gave him some and he seemed to feel better after that. Then he tried to rise, but he had to fall back again.
“My ankle—I think it’s sprained,” he said.
“Then let us carry you to the boat,” suggested Jerry.
“I’m afraid you can’t.”
“Well, we can try.”
They did, but it was hard work. By dint of carefully picking their steps over the rocks, however, the three boys finally managed to get Mr. De Vere into the cabin of the Ripper, where they made him comfortable on the cushions.