After making some preparations, Tom and Rob announced that they were ready.
“It’s going to hurt you some, Walter,” said the patrol leader, regretfully; “but it’s got to be done, you know. Those two ends of the bone must be brought together, and after that we intend to bandage your leg the very best we know how.”
Walter shut his teeth hard together, and seemed to prepare for the worst.
“Go ahead, boys,” he said, grimly; “I’ll have to grin and bear it, I guess. And I deserve all I’m getting for being so silly as to slip when I was climbing that tree to see what was in the hole in the trunk.”
He managed to stand it very bravely indeed, though the agony must have been intense. The other scouts heaved a sigh when they saw the amateur surgeons start to binding up the injured limb.
“That’s all through with, Walter,” said Tom, cheerily, “and you stood it like a soldier, we’ll all declare. Just as soon as that litter is done you’re going to be carried back to that house, if it takes every one of us to do the job.”
Josh and some of the others had been busily engaged trying to construct a suitable litter. Fortunately they had learned how this should be done, for it is one of the duties of every Boy Scout to know this.
With the ax they cut a couple of stout poles about eight feet in length. These were to constitute the sides, and would form the handles, each one to be in charge of a scout.
A blanket was arranged across these in such a manner that there would not be the slightest danger of its slipping, after the two poles had been held a certain distance apart with a couple of cross-pieces.
When finally the litter was completed it was pronounced first-class by every one.