“I don’t think he’s been badly hurt.” Chet began feeling the unconscious man’s ribs. “There are no bones broken, at any rate. He hit his head against a rock, I guess.”
“The blow on the head knocked him cold,” Biff remarked.
“Perhaps he’s got concussion of the brain.”
“In that case, he needs a doctor,” Joe said.
“How about Frank?”
But Frank was already sitting up.
“I’m all right,” he told them. “I’m just about all in, but I’ll be as right as rain in a few minutes. Whew, those waves sure battered me about, I’ll tell the world!”
“We never expected to see you come back alive,” Chet told him.
“It was pretty bad coming back,” Frank admitted. “The captain is heavier than he looks!”
“He’s still alive, at any rate.”
“Isn’t he conscious yet?”
“Not a bit of it. He’s breathing, but he’s still dead to the world, and there’s no sign that he’s coming to.”
“Well, we’ve got to get him to a doctor, that’s all,” declared Frank decisively.
He got to his feet, exhausted though he was.
“Do you mean that we’ll carry him back to the road?” asked Joe.
“We’ll take him right back to Bayport. That’s where the nearest hospital is that we know anything about.” Frank looked down at the unconscious man. “He’s in bad shape. If he were just stunned, he’d be awake by now. Chances are, his skull is fractured. That’s a bad cut.”
The boys looked down at the unconscious Captain Royal, sprawled limply on the sand.
“It’s a long haul,” demurred Biff.
“We can’t leave him here. We can’t do anything for him ourselves, you know that.”
“You’re right.” Biff bent over and grasped the unconscious man’s feet. “Give me a hand with him, someone.”
Chet and Joe helped him. They raised Captain Royal from the ground and began carrying him up the beach. Frank went on ahead, still weak from the effects of his grueling ordeal in rescuing the eccentric old man from the sea.
Captain Royal showed no signs of returning consciousness. He was a dead weight as the boys carried him on past his own cave, past the place where Carl Schaum had been hiding, past the boys’ cave. There the lads rested, before undertaking the hard climb up the path to the top of the cliff.
They tried all the first aid measures they had ever heard of, but Captain Royal still remained unconscious. The cut on his head was not bleeding any more; his breathing was heavy, and the lads saw that it was no ordinary case of being rendered senseless by a blow on the head.
“A doctor is the only thing,” declared Frank. “His lungs are clear of water, so he’s all right in that respect. He must have struck his head when he was washed in among those rocks.”
“Well, let’s get busy then,” said Biff, who was no laggard. “We had better get him to the hospital as quickly as we can.”
They took turns carrying Captain Royal up the path that led to the top of the cliff. It was an arduous climb, and it was late in the afternoon before they finally reached the rocks above. Then they rested once more before starting the journey to the fisherman’s cottage.
“Thank goodness, he has a car,” said Joe. “He’ll help us take him in to the city. We would never be able to carry him on the motorcycles.”
“A queer end to our exploration trip,” grunted Chet.
Puffing and panting, they carried the unconscious man on over the rocks until they came to the path leading down to the fisherman’s cottage. There they rested again.
Finally, after a halting descent, they came to the cottage. Their friend, the fisherman, was fortunately at home. Accompanied by his wife, he came running out when the boys appeared in sight with their burden.
“First it’s a prisoner and now it’s a sick man!” he exclaimed, as he drew near. “I declare, you chaps seem to scare up more excitement than anybody that ever came to Honeycomb Caves.”
“This is an old man who was living in one of the caves,” explained Frank. “He fell off a cliff and hurt himself. Do you think you could help us get him to a doctor?”
The fisherman glanced inquiringly at his wife.
“Go ahead, John,” she said. “You wouldn’t let the poor man die, would you?”
“I wondered if you’d mind bein’ left alone.”
“Go on. I’m not a baby. Drive the poor fellow out to a doctor. It’s easy to be seen he needs attention.”
The fisherman quickly brought out his car and they carefully put Captain Royal in the back seat. The boys brought out their motorcycles and, with Biff riding in company of the fisherman, the little party set out for the main road.
“I don’t know whether we can find a doctor at the village or not,” said the fisherman. “If we can’t, there’s nothing for it but to drive on into Bayport.”
“We’ll fix the expenses,” Frank assured him.
“That’s all right. I don’t want any money for my trouble. The poor old chap seems to have got a terrible wallop on the head. How did it happen?”
“He fell off a cliff.”
“Did it have anything to do with the fellow you brought out this morning?” asked the fisherman shrewdly.
“No. Nothing to do with him.”
They reached the main road and drove on toward the village. There they found that the one and only doctor had been called out on a case and would not be back until the following morning.
“Bayport it is, then,” said Joe.
It was plain that the fisherman did not relish the idea of the long trip to Bayport. It was equally plain that he felt it his duty to bring the unconscious man to a doctor. On the other hand, the chums did not like the idea of using his battered car, not only because of the trouble it would give the fisherman but because the car would not go more than thirty or thirty-five miles an hour. The motorcycles were invariably far ahead.
The difficulty was soon solved, however. A heavy
