There was some mystery
about his appearance there that could only be solved by the
man himself, and so such restoratives as the Boy Scouts carried
in their camping outfits were hastily brought forth.
There were bandages and a small flask of brandy which had
formed a part of many an outfit and had never been uncorked,
and these were soon on the floor by the side of the sufferer.
The injury proved to be a compound fracture of the right leg,
and Nestor shook his head gravely as he inspected it. Little
could be done save to force the shattered bones back into place
and bind the whole up firmly.
The acute pain of the operation and the stimulating drink that
was given him caused Scoby to open his eyes and, screaming with
the agony of the injury, look about the room. His pale features
contorted with rage or some other strong emotion, as he looked
upon the renegade. Big Bob eyed the fellow malevolently.
"You chaps appear to know each other pretty well," Nestor said,
glancing from one to the other. "It would be interesting to
know where and when, and under what circumstances, you last met."
The wounded men glared at each other but made no reply. Big Bob
then turned his head away with an exclamation of rage. Scoby
pointed to the brandy bottle and moved his white lips. Frank,
who held the stimulant, asked a question with his eyes.
"Yes, Nestor said, "give him a stiff dose. He is about all in."
The drink was taken greedily, and in a few moments the fellow
appeared to be gaining temporary strength.
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