A rip or two in his undertunic, a shallow cut
from his bush knife allowed to bleed messily. He could not see himself to
judge the general effect, but had to hope it was the right one.
His chance to test his acting powers came sooner than he had anticipated.
Luckily he had climbed out of the hidden cove before he was spotted by
the boy who came whistling along the path, a fishing pole over his
shoulder, a basket swinging from his hand. Dane assumed an expression
which he thought would suggest fatigue, pain, and bewilderment and
lurched forward as if, in sighting the oncoming boy, he had also sighted
hope.
"Help--!" Perhaps it was excitement which gave his utterance that
convincing croak.
Rod and basket fell to the ground as the boy, after one astounded stare,
ran forward.
"What's the matter!" His eyes were on those space boots and he added a
"sir" which had the ring of hero worship.
"Escape boat--" Dane waved toward the sea's general direction.
"Medic--must get to Medic--"
"Yes, sir," the boy's basic Terran sounded good. "Can you walk if I help
you?"
Dane managed a weak nod, but contrived that he did not lean too heavily
on his avidly helpful guide.
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