Hugh paused again and groaned.
"Go on," said somebody.
"No one noticed what I had done, but something or other made Mr. Ferguson start talking about how dangerous it was to chuck things over carelessly, though it seems to me that in Jules Verne they spend half their time chucking sandbags about. I asked him how about a stone weighing half a pound, and he said it would fall half a mile in twelve and a half seconds, and if it hit anyone on the head that person would be as dead as if he had got a bullet through him. I felt a bit sick, but I was glad that field had been empty. We came down soon after that, and I cut off to Burnt Oak field to look for my stone." Hugh stopped short.
"Go on," said the others.
"It wasn't there, nor anywhere round; and I knew it must have dropped on that field."
"But," said Jerry, "if it hit the earth at that speed it would bury itself ever so deep. You could not possibly see it."
"I thought of that," said Hugh, "so I looked for the hole, and I found it. About thirty feet from the tree, which was a good hit considering. I could soon learn to aim well—that is, if I'm not hanged or sent to prison for life. Oh—Well, I found the hole, and beside it I found—"
No one dared to ask a question. Hugh remained silent till it was almost more than they could bear.
"Blood!" he whispered at last.
"Jiminy! Is that all!" exclaimed Dick. "I thought you were going to say a dead body. If the body got up and walked away it couldn't have been so very dead. How much blood? Were there any footmarks about?"