Reasoning that the sour-faced individual would not argue in this fashion if he were seriously hurt, Sam Rover turned his attention to the other man, and Jack did likewise. The young major had noted a tiny watercourse close to where the roads intersected, and now he ran to this and brought back a capful of water. With this they bathed the man’s face, so that he soon opened his eyes and sat up.
“Any bones broken?” asked Jack’s uncle, kindly.
“I don’t know.” The man pulled himself together slowly, and then started to rise. “Gee, but my back feels sore! We certainly came a cropper, didn’t we?” and he grinned sheepishly at the Rovers.
“I’m glad no one was killed,” said Sam Rover.
“See here! This is your fault,” howled the other man, coming forward stiffly. “You had no business to be racin’ on this road.”
“I don’t think I was running as fast as you were,” answered Jack’s uncle.
“I bet you wasn’t,” put in the other man, still grinning. He turned to his companion in misfortune. “I told you, Ferguson, not to hit ’er up quite so fast. Some time you’ll climb a stone wall and land in the cemetery.”
“Oh, shut up, Billings,” growled the man called Ferguson. “I know what I was doin’. It was this fellow’s fault, and he’s got to pay for the damage done.”
“All right, make him pay,” was the good-natured comment from Billings. Then suddenly he began to chuckle. “I wonder how much of the stuff we smashed, Bill,” he went on.
“Shut your jaw, you fool!” cried Ferguson. “I say this fellow has got to pay for the damage done.”