And yet he even smiled, back of the lines of physical pain on his face.
Another man stood in the entrance to the grotto, one of Mr. Dodd's deputies; in fact, the same fellow who had spent the night in camp with the boys.
"What can we do about it, Bill?" questioned the sheriff.
At this the man came forward and bent over the recumbent form.
"Sure he ain't shamming, are you, Mr. Dodd?" he asked dubiously.
"How about it, Will?" And the sheriff turned with a smile to the amateur surgeon.
"No sham there, sir. He really thought he had broken the bones, but it proves to be a sprain that will keep him from walking alone for weeks. I was just making a suggestion when you came."
"And what might that be, my boy?" queried the sheriff kindly.
"If he could be carried to our big canoe, we would engage to paddle him across the lake to our camp. There I would be able to take charge of him until such time as you thought best to—er—leave us," stammered Will.
At that the sheriff grinned and the wounded man laughed outright.