"Great Scott!" he exclaimed, "I've sprained my ankle."
He sat down and rubbed the maimed member for a couple of minutes and then attempted to hobble on. It was more than he could bear and he sat down again.
"By George," he groaned, "this is tough! I'll have to call for help."
He gave the well-known whistle, but there was no response.
He gave it again; but still no answer.
"Worse and more of it," he muttered. "Something has happened to Billie."
What it might be Adrian could not imagine, but he was sure that his chum was not at the appointed spot, as he was near enough to have heard the whistle and would surely have answered.
"Well, I can't stay here. The greasers will be coming pretty soon. I must get along some way."
He got up and walked a few steps and again sat down. There was no sound of a pursuit and the hoofbeats of Mr. Black's horses had ceased.
"They have reached the grove," Adrian muttered. "I must get there some way."