, approaching him.

'Trod on something sharp,' said Dick.

'I should think yer did,' cried the Raven; 'look at yer foot. We must
see to this.'

Dick looked, and saw the clear water stained with blood as it swept
past his foot. He bent down and looked at the bed of the stream.

'Confound it all,' he said, 'it's the end of a broken bottle I've
trodden on. No wonder it warmed me up a bit. Somebody's chucked it
into the brook as they passed.'

The boys scrambled to the bank, and there Dick's wound was examined.
It was on the outer side of the right heel, not long, but deep, for the
broken bottle had thrust a sharp splintered point upwards, and the cut
bled very freely. They washed it well in the cold water until the
blood ceased to flow, then rubbed plenty of the mutton-fat in, for that
was the only kind of ointment they had.

'Quite sure theer's no salt in this?' asked Chippy. ''Cos salt 'ud be
dangerous.'

'Quite sure,' replied Dick. 'I boiled it down myself. It's pure fat.'

Chippy looked anxious. 'It's frightful awk'ard a cut in yer foot,' he
said. 'How are ye goin' to march, Dick?'

'Oh, I'll march all right,' said Dick. 'I wish, though, it had been my
finger, like yours, Chippy.'

The Raven nodded. 'True for you,' he said, 'ye don't ha' to tramp on
yer hands.'

They bound up the cut in a strip torn from a handkerchief, got into
their stockings and shoes, and went forward. Dick declared that his
cut gave him little or no pain, but Chippy still looked uneasy. He
knew that the time for trouble was ahead, when the cut would stiffen.

CHAPTER XLVII

THE LAST CAMP

'We'll never see Wildcombe Chase to-night, Chippy,' said Dick, as they
stepped along.

'Not likely,' was the reply; 'we've a-lost too much time for that. An'
now theer's that cut. What I say is this: let's mek' an early camp an'
give yer foot a good rest. P'raps it'll feel better in the mornin'.'

'It isn't very bad now,' said Dick, 'only a little sore.'

'H'm,' grunted Chippy, 'so ye say. I know wot a deep cut like that
means. We'll rest it as soon as we can.'

They paused on a triangle of grass at some cross roads and got out
their map. Wildcombe Chase was altogether too far now, and they looked
for a nearer camping-ground. They saw that they were within a mile of
a village, and beyond that a by-way led across a large common. On this
common they resolved to make their last bivouac.

They passed through the vi