“What Frank says is true,” put in Darry. “He did kick Mark’s lame ankle, and that was a shame.”
“How about this?” questioned the professor, of Mark.
“He struck my ankle when he was walking past, sir. He said it was an accident, but——”
“It wasn’t,” broke in Frank. “I saw him do it on purpose.”
“Hockley’s been aching for a quarrel ever since he started,” came from Sam.
“The whole crowd is down on me,” growled the lank youth. “They want to run things to suit themselves and leave me out in the cold. My father pays my way and I don’t see why I should play second fiddle to anybody.”
“You will not be asked to play second fiddle, as you term it, Hockley,” said the professor. “But at the same time I will allow no fighting. We are here to see the sights, and I expect you all to behave like young gentlemen. If you did not kick Mark in the ankle on purpose you should at least have been more careful of your steps, for a sprained ankle is nothing to fool with. I see your mouth is bleeding. You had better bathe it in yonder pool. And Newton, you go to the next pool and bathe your nose, and remember, this is the first and last fighting to be done on this trip.”
Glad to get off thus easily the two boys walked away as directed and each did what he could to stop the flow of blood. Sam and Darry wanted to go after Frank but the professor stopped them.
“I want you two to help me with Mark,” said Professor Strong. “I have found a native with several mules. He was carrying cane cuttings to Caracas, but I have hired him to drop his loads for the present and carry us instead. If you will join hands and catch Mark under the knees I will take him under the arms, and we can carry him to the road.”
They soon had the crippled youth up and the professor pointed out the direction in which the road over the mountain lay. The path to the point was thickly overgrown with brush and they had literally to force their way along. It was rough and more than once Mark felt like crying out but showed his grit by shutting his teeth and keeping silent.