"Don't stop for me!" he called. "I'll be there as quick as you
are!"
He picked himself up and started to run, but his ankle gave him
such a pain that he almost fainted.
"Great Scott!" he exclaimed, "I've sprained my ankle."
He sat down and rubbed the maimed member for a couple of minutes
and then attempted to hobble on. It was more than he could bear
and he sat down again.
"By George," he groaned, "this is tough! I'll have to call for
help."
He gave the well-known whistle, but there was no response.
He gave it again; but still no answer.
"Worse and more of it," he muttered. "Something has happened to
Billie."
What it might be Adrian could not imagine, but he was sure that
his chum was not at the appointed spot, as he was near enough to
have heard the whistle and would surely have answered.
"Well, I can't stay here. The greasers will be coming pretty
soon. I must get along some way."
He got up and walked a few steps and again sat down. There was no
sound of a pursuit and the hoofbeats of Mr. Black's horses had
ceased.
"They have reached the grove," Adrian muttered. "I must get there
some way."
Once more he arose to his feet and took several steps and then
sank down in a faint, so great was the pain.
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