Don offered his arm, and Jem, after a good deal of grunting and groaning, rose to his feet, gave himself a wrench, and then stamped with first one leg and then with the other.
“Why, I seems all right, Mas’ Don,” he said, eagerly.
“Yes, Jem.”
“Think it’s my ribs? I’ve heared say that a man don’t always know when his ribs is broke.”
“Do you feel as if they were, Jem?”
“Oh, yes; just exactly. All down one side, and up the other.”
“Could you manage to walk as far as the village? I don’t like to leave you.”
“Oh, yes; I think I can walk. Anyhow I’m going to try. I say, if you hear me squeak or crack anywhere, you’ll stop me, won’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Come on then, and let’s get there. Oh, crumpets! What a pain.”