Harry pointed toward the sloping passage.
“Trying to find a way out,” he answered.
“Were they here when you fell?” asked Jimmie. “If they were, why didn’t they set your broken arm? They understand first aid to the injured just as well as we do. Now, you drop right back on this nice, soft bed of granite and I’ll see if I can find something that will serve for splints. There ought to be something that can be used floating in the water.”
“I saw tree branches bobbing about there this afternoon,” Harry said, very faintly. “You may be able to find what you want.”
Jimmie darted away toward the entrance, and Ned began removing the bandage and the boy’s coat and shirtsleeve. His face brightened as he came to understand the extent of the injury.
“I was afraid of a compound fracture,” he said, “but this is all right. The flesh is badly swollen, but we’ll soon drive that away. Is it very painful?” he continued.
“It hurts like the dickens!” almost sobbed Harry.
“Why didn’t the boys fix it?” demanded Ned.
“Because,” answered Harry, “someone came to the edge of the pit and called down, and then ran away without giving us any help. We were all afraid he had gone away after some of the half-breeds, and so it seemed that the first thing to do was to get out of sight. After we got in here, they thought they could find their way out by following this tunnel and get to the camp.”
In a short time Jimmie returned with several pieces of wood from which splints were made, and then the boy’s arm was tenderly cared for.