“Certainly. Which horse will I take?”
“The bay's saddled-under the shed—get any doctor—I don't care which one. But get him here.”
“I will, Mr. Dickerson. Leave it to me,” promised Hiram, and ran to the shed at once.
CHAPTER XXXI. “MR. DAMOCLES'S SWORD”
Hiram Strong was not likely to forget that long and arduous night. It was impossible to force the horse out of a walk, for the drifts were in some places to the creature's girth.
He stopped at the house for a minute and roused Mrs. Atterson and Old Lem and sent them over to help the unhappy Dickersons.
He was nearly an hour getting to the crossroads store. There were lights and revelry there. Some of the lingering crowd were snowbound for the night and were making merry with hard cider and provisions which Schell was not loath to sell them.
Pete was one of the number, and Hiram sent him home with the news of his mother's serious hurt.
He forced the horse to take him into town to Dr. Broderick. It was nearly two o'clock when he routed out the doctor, and it was four o'clock when the physician and himself, in a heavy sleigh and behind a pair of mules, reached the Dickerson farmhouse.