His skull is cracked by the fall, and his tobacco is gone.

It is chiefly the tobacco which is lamentable." But his skull was not cracked, for it was merely a slit of the scalp of five inches or so.
"You'll have to wait till the others come back.

I can't carry." Jacob Welse pointed to his right arm, which hung dead.

"Only wrenched," he explained.

"No bones broken." The baron struck an extravagant attitude and pointed down at Frona's foot.