"Nothing but a hip bruise, or I'm guessing wrong," smiled the white-faced sufferer. "In any case, you're meat for a doctor," put in Deputy Simmons, with rough sympathy. "All right," replied Dick. "I'll walk to the doctor's office. How many miles is it?" "About fourteen," replied Simmons. "I'll bring the doctor to you. It's only about six miles to Ross' farm. I'll borrow his car. Then I can make good time getting the doctor and bringing him here. But you'd better sit down before I start." "Aren't you going to do anything with the car in the creek?" inquired Prescott. "What can we do?" demanded the deputy laconically. "There isn't muscle enough in this crowd to hoist the car up the bank. Anyway, her engine is damaged beyond a doubt. No, no, Prescott, you sit down, or lie down, and the rest of you had better wait here until I bring help. I can be back in three hours at the latest. Darrin, will you place one of the lamps at either end of where the bridge was? That may save some farmer from driving in on top of the car." Dave complied willingly enough. Then Simmons turned to Prescott. "Now, you sit down, young man," ordered the deputy. "I'd rather not," Dick replied. "I haven't anything worse than a bruise. If I keep too quiet the injury will stiffen all the more. I must move my hip a bit, or I may be in for a worse time." "That may be true," nodded the deputy thoughtfully. "Well, be good, all of you. I'll be back again, as soon as possible." With that he strode down into the creek, wading through and coming out at the farther side. Then he was lost among the shadows. Though it hurt to keep on his feet, Dick, after some minutes, found that he could move about a little more freely, despite the pain. "That shows there are no bones broken," he assured his distressed chums. "Does it?" asked Darrin. "Hang it, I wish I knew more about injuries of this sort. Then I might be able to help you." "Why, I may be all right, and able to sprint in another half hour," smiled Dick. "Yes, you will!" jeered Greg. "Dick, you won't run for a few days to come, anyway." "A nice lot we are, to set out to aid the law's officers," remarked Dave disgustedly. "Dick can take only a half a step per minute. Mr. Valden can use only one hand. Greg's head looks gory. The lot of us couldn't scare a baby now!" "I can still say, boo!" Prescott laughed. "Is it wise to try to do so much walking?" questioned Darry, as Greg went back to the creek to wash the blood from the shallow cut on his forehead. "Yes; for I don't want to grow stiff until I'm where I can take care of myself," Dick answered, taking a few more steps. "No; don't help me. I want to move alone, and I'm strong enough for that." So Dave threw himself on the grass to rest until he bethought himself that, wet as they all were, it might be a good idea to build a fire for drying purposes.