“No!” snapped Chester. “I won’t have it so!”
“But I hope it is not so.”
“I won’t have it so! Why should I be hurt while he—while Dick Merriwell is all right? It isn’t possible!”
“I hope not! I think you will be all right, Chester.”
“You’re a good sister, June!” he suddenly exclaimed, looking at her. “I’m sorry you made the mistake of having anything to do with that cheap fellow Merriwell. But, June, you can never know how I felt when I saw you in that carriage and knew I could do nothing to save you. I thought I should die! But to have him save you, June—that was the bitterest pill of all!”
“Don’t keep thinking about that, Chester. Just be quiet until we find out how much you are hurt. It will kill mother if you are hurt much.”
For Chester Arlington’s mother doted on him. He was her pride and joy, and she had implicit confidence in him. She had permitted June to come to Fardale to satisfy June that Chester was in the right in his trouble with Dick Merriwell, but she had not fancied that June did not mean to let her brother know she was in town until after she had investigated and discovered the truth.
“I won’t be hurt!” exclaimed the unfortunate lad. “Why should anything like that happen to me? But it was so strange that I had no strength in my legs when I tried to stand.”
“That is what worried the doctor.”
“Worried him?”