“Now then, Josh!”
By an united effort the position of the artist was altered, and the victim to a nasty fall gave a sigh as he folded his injured left arm across his chest.
“I—I—Brave boys! Good lads! I—”
“Oh, that’s all right, sir,” said Will. “I say, Josh!”
“Well?”
“He’s fainted!”
“Phew!” whistled Josh. “Then he must be very bad.”
“I’m afraid he is.”
“Couldn’t we ease him up a bit?”
“No. What I want to know is what we have got to do.”