Chapter Thirty One.
Good for Evil.
Ramsden struggled to his feet as if with an effort, and stood holding his hand to his head, evidently hurt. The next moment he stepped forward, staggering slightly, stooped to pick up his cutlass, and fell forward, uttered a groan, rose up again, and fell down once more, this time to lie without motion.
“Jem,” whispered Don, “look at that!”
“Was looking,” whispered back Jem. “Hit his head; sarve him right.”
Ramsden did not move, and the two fugitives stood anxiously watching.
“What shall we do?”
“Wait! He’ll soon come round and go. May as well sit down.”