“Can’t go—any farther,” he said. “My leg’s awful.”
Ralph looked round, to find that the men had given up the pursuit, and were going back.
“Can we catch your pony?” he said.
“I think so. He’s grazing yonder.”
“Would he let me catch him?”
“No,” said Mark. “He’d be off directly. There, I think I can hobble on now for a bit. What! are they coming again?”
“No; only watching us,” said Ralph rather faintly. “Would you mind tying that tightly round my arm?”
For answer, Mark seized the handkerchief Ralph held out, and knotted it last round his companion’s arm.
“Now let me do something to your leg.”
“No; it doesn’t bleed now,” said Mark. “Let’s get on. If they see us crippled, they’ll come on again, and if they do I’m good for nothing. It doesn’t bleed; it only feels of no use. There, let’s get on. Are they watching us?”