“No,” replied Steve; “but it feels as one would suppose ribs would feel if they were broken.”
“Bah! You don’t know anything about it. That’s why I called you conceited. Here, come down into the cabin.”
He took Steve by the arm, and the boy winced.
“What! Something wrong there, too?”
“I don’t know,” said Steve in an altered tone. “I don’t know anything, only that I’m so horribly conceited. If I did, I should say my shoulder was wrenched with the jerk.”
“Come along,” said the doctor, changing his tone. “There, my lad, I was a bit hard upon you; but you gave me a terrible fright, and I haven’t got over it yet.”
He led the way toward the cabin; but before they reached the companion hatch the captain came up, looking very stern. Then he, too, altered his manner.
“What is it?” he said anxiously. “Steve is not hurt?”
“Not much, I think. We’re going down to see.”
“I hope not,” said the captain quickly; and his eyes met Steve’s as, without another word, he quietly held out his hand.