"He has never jumped it?" cried he.
Not a sound came from the other side of the stack; but there was scarcely a doubt as to what had happened. For a moment none of them dared stir; then Hal put one crutch forward, and nerved himself for the awful possibility, praying as he went,—"God grant he isn't dead!"
On the grass, a yard or so from the foot of the stack, lay Bill, white as a sheet. At first sight Hal uttered a cry of horror, thinking that his worst fears were realized. But at the sound of his voice Bill's eyes opened.
"My leg!" moaned he. "My leg!"
The right leg was doubled backwards underneath him, broken at the thigh.
"Here!" shouted Hal. "Help! Where are you all? Won't anybody lend a hand?"
The others had followed him, however, and were closer than he knew of. Half-a-dozen hands were instantly stretched out; Bill was quickly lifted, and the injured limb straightened.
"Bring him round on to the hay," directed Hal. "He'll lie easier there, whilst you go for help."
So Bill was carried round to where Dick sat—now shivering with terror and alarm.
"He'll want a stretcher," said Hal next. "You three can't carry him; and I should think it will be a case for the Infirmary."