No sooner had the Fortuna been put under full speed than, leaving Frank
at the wheel, the others carried Jack into the cabin, where he was laid
upon a bunk. Swiftly Tom tore away his jacket and shirt, exposing a
chest with well-developed muscles standing out prominently. The strong,
lithe figure of the boy gave striking evidence of the beneficial result
of constant and well-directed physical exercise. Just now he lay limp
and inert.
"Where is he hit?" queried Harry, appearing with restoratives from the
medicine chest. "Is he bleeding much?" he continued.
"Funny thing, I can't find any blood at all!" declared Tom. "It's a
peculiar thing, too, for if he was hit hard enough to knock him down the
bullet must have entered his body!"
"That's a strange thing, isn't it?" spoke up Arnold.
"Strange is no word for it!" Tom asserted. "I'm just all at sea
literally as well as figuratively. This is the strangest part of our
queer experiences during the past few hours."
"Let's get his clothes off and examine him closely," suggested Arnold.
"Maybe the bullet hit him from a ricochet."
"Wise little Scout!" commended Tom. "You've got a great head on those
shoulders! I'm glad we brought you along."
Before he had ceased speaking, Tom had begun to divest Jack of his upper
clothing. With the assistance of Harry and Arnold, he removed the jacket
and shirt in a short time.
"There's nothing here at all!" he cried in amazement.
"What's that bruised looking place over his heart?" asked Harry.
Pages:
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78