“Aye, feel of un, and rub th’ numbness out,” said Thomas.
“Too bad! Too bad!” exclaimed Doctor Joe, presently. “The leg is broken.”
And so indeed it proved.
Doctor Joe and the boys carried Thomas to the house and laid him in his bunk. Then Doctor Joe cut some sticks of proper length and size and wrapped them with pieces of old blanket, and with David’s help set the leg and deftly bound the splints into place with bandages which Margaret had quickly prepared under his direction as he worked.
“There you are,” he said, finally, standing up and surveying his work. “Does it feel comfortable, Tom?”
“Not so bad,” answered Thomas. “Will th’ lashin’s hold, now?”
“I’ll warrant that!” assured Doctor Joe.
“And is she like t’ be straight and stout again when she heals?” asked Thomas anxiously.
“Straight and stout as ever she was,” promised Doctor Joe, “but you’ll have to lie still for a month or six weeks, and then you’ll be on crutches for a time. I’ll look after you, Tom.”
“And I can’t go to my trappin’ grounds, then, before th’ New Year, whatever?” Thomas asked anxiously.