Tim's mum had suspected it was a 'practical joke', and had insisted on seeing the broken leg for herself before alerting the emergency services. The ambulance was on its way, then? Er, no, actually. Eventually Tim reappeared, waving, way above. Tim's house was the nearest, so he was dispatched to phone 999, leaving the rest of us time to hide the Montesa, and concoct a story that wouldn't get us into trouble. "My leg, my leg," he was yelping, and we could see what he meant: his shattered shin bone had pierced the skin in three places. We climbed down, and could hear his groans. Looking down over the edge, we saw he was now spread-eagled at the bottom of the quarry, with the still revving bike beside him.
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