He did the latter, after several groans, for his leg was very stiff and painful.
“There’s a coward for you,” he said. “Now jump up behind.”
“There is no need,” said Ralph. “I can walk.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Never mind.—Get on with you.”
This last to the pony, who walked quietly along with his burden in the pleasant evening light.
For some minutes now neither of the lads spoke, being too much engrossed by pain and the strangeness of their position.
“I say,” said Mark at last, “you’d better come up to the Tor, and drop me, and I’ll lend you the pony to carry your wounded arm home.”
“No,” said Ralph quietly. “I shall come a bit farther, and then strike off. You can get safe home now.”
“Yes, I suppose so; but you ought to have the pony, or one of our men, to see you safe.”