Poor Torn was having a wretched time of it with his ankle, which
hurt as badly as ever and had begun to swell. As he steadied
himself on one of the limbs of the tree Sam removed his shoe,
which gave him a little relief.
From a distance came a shouting, and they made out through the
trees the gleam of a torch. But soon the sounds died out and the
light disappeared.
What should they do next? This was a question impossible to
answer.
"One thing is certain, I can't walk just yet," said Tom. "When I
put my foot down it's like a thousand needles darting through my
leg."
"Let us go below and hunt up some water," said Sam; and after
waiting a while longer they descended into the small brush. Aleck
soon found a pool not far distant, and to this they carried Tom,
and after all had had a drink, the swollen ankle was bathed, much
to the sufferer's relief.
Slowly the time dragged by until morning. As soon as the sun was
up Aleck announced that he was going back to the hostelry to see
how the land lay.
"But don't expose yourself," said Tom. "I am certain now that is
a regular robbers' resort, or worse."
Aleck was gone the best part of three hours. When he returned he
was accompanied by Cujo. The latter announced that all of the
other natives had fled for parts unknown.
"The inn is deserted," announced Aleck. Even that colored wife of
the proprietor is gone.
"And did you find any trace of Dick and my uncle?" asked Sam.
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