Before Linton could reach the spot, Tom had been assisted to
his feet, and, with a dazed expression, assisted on either side
by Luke and Edmund Blake, was on his way back to the starting-point.
"What made you get in my way, Tom?" asked Luke, puzzled.
"I don't know," answered Tom, sullenly.
"Are you much hurt?"
"I think my skull must be fractured," moaned Tom.
"Oh, not so bad as that," said Luke, cheerfully. "I've fallen
on my head myself, but I got over it."
"You didn't fall as hard as I did," groaned Tom.
"No, I presume not; but heads are hard, and I guess you'll
be all right in a few days."
Tom had certainly been severely hurt. There was a swelling
on the back of his head almost as large as a hen's egg.
"You've lost the watch, Luke," said Frank Acken.
"Randolph has got in first."
"Yes, I supposed he would," answered Luke, quietly.
"And there is Linton Tomkins coming to meet us on Randolph's skates."
"Randolph is sitting down on a log taking it easy. What is your
loss, Luke, is his gain."
"Yes."
"I think he might have come back to inquire after you, Tom,
as you are a friend of his."
Tom looked resentfully at Randolph, and marked his complacent
look, and it occurred to him also that the friend he had
risked so much to serve was very ungrateful.
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