The boys darted into
the crowd. They demanded explanations of anybody who would
answer. A boy spoke, up.
"Ridin' horse ran away," he said. "Saw it 'myself. Girl ridin'
it."
Porky and Beany gasped. "Was she killed?" they cried.
"Didn't hurt her at all," said the strange boy rather regretfully,
it seemed. "But the feller with her, he chased her an' his horse
caught up, and the feller grabbed her bridle, and her horse
'swerved, and he was pulled offen his horse, and his horse come
right bing into the bandstand, and broke his neck."
"My gosh!" said the twins. "Where did they take the man? Was he
hurt much?"
The boy looked curiously at the pair. "Say, do you always say
the same thing like that? You ain't the same boy, are you?
Feller went over to the Hospital."
"Hurt much?" said the boys.
"There you go again! Why, he limped, and I'll bet he's lame
to-morrow but I guess he ain't in a dyin' condition."
The boys watched while the unfortunate young horse was loaded on
the truck, then turned toward the hospital.
"What you got?" said Beany, "A sore throat?"
"I say not," cried his brother. "That's a symptom of scarlet
fever. They would jug us in the detention ward. I'm goin' to
have a splittin' headache.
Pages:
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46