"I believe there is a conspiracy to take my life," growled the professor, without replying to the direct question.
"Are you hurt, sir?"
"Not so much in body as in my feelings," answered Mr. Hamblin, holding out his damaged hat. "It was done on purpose, sir."
Dr. Winstock now appeared on the forecastle, and as Little seemed to be the greater sufferer, he attended to his case first. He examined the face of the boy, for by the most assiduous rubbing with his right hand while his left was devoted to the hip, he had contrived to besmear his face all over with the blood which flowed freely from his nose. The surgeon could find no wound on the face, and it was plain that there was nothing more terrible about the head than the nosebleed.
"Where are you hurt, Little?" asked the doctor.
"In the hip; it's broke!" replied the sufferer with an explosive groan.
Dr. Winstock laid the patient down upon the deck, and proceeded to examine him with the greatest care. He declared that no bones were broken.
"He appears to be suffering great pain," said the principal, anxiously.
"He has probably wrenched a muscle in his fall, and that is almost as painful as a broken bone. He has received no serious injury," replied the doctor, as he lifted the patient from the deck.
"I am glad it is no worse. How did it happen, Little?"