“I know but I want to make it if we can. It can’t be much over twenty-five miles.”
“But that’s a good long ways with a bum leg,” Jack declared.
A little before ten o’clock they reached the place where Bob had been caught in the trap, and as his leg was causing him considerable pain, Jack insisted that they rest up for at least two hours. This, after considerable argument, Bob agreed to. In a short time Jack caught a good mess of trout in the little brook and they made a hearty meal although, as Jack laughingly declared, their choice of courses was somewhat limited. As soon as the meal was over and the dishes washed Jack insisted on having a look at the wounded leg, although Bob insisted that it was all right.
“Say, who’s the doctor here,” he demanded and Bob laughingly yielded the point.
The leg was still slightly swollen about the ankle and there was some inflammation where the teeth had broken the skin.
“I don’t just like the looks of that ankle,” he said as he sopped a little iodine on it.
“Ouch, but that smarts,” Bob winced.
“It’ll do it good all the same.”
“I’ll say it ought to.”
He bathed the leg with the cold water from the brook and Bob soon declared that it felt nearly as well as before it had been hurt.