The boy stirred uneasily and his eyes opened.
"Oh, is it you, Peggy? I guess I was knocked out for a minute.
It's my shoulder. Ouch! Don't touch it."
The boy winced as Peggy's soft hand touched the injured member.
"Allow me. I've got a little skill at surgery."'
It was Professor Wandering William's voice, and Peggy caught herself wondering that he didn't make some reference to his infallible bone set or wonder-working liniment. But he didn't. Instead, he knelt by Roy's side, and with a few deft strokes of his knife had cut away the boy's shirt and bared a shoulder that was rapidly turning a deep blue.
Tenderly as a woman might have, Wandering William felt the wound.
"Hurt?" he asked, as Roy winced, biting his lips to keep from crying out under the agony.
"Hurt?" echoed Peggy indignantly; "of course it does."
Professor Wandering William looked up with an odd air of authority in his keen eyes.
"Please fetch me some water from the aeroplane," he said, and Peggy had no choice but to obey.