CHAPTER XXVIII
HUMMEL KEEPS HIS WORD
Allan, as he turned into the street before the house, was caught by a fierce gust of wind, whirled against a tree at the edge of the pavement, and would have fallen, had not a strong arm grasped him about the waist.
“Sure, an’ ’tis a reg’lar hurricane,” shouted a well-known voice, and Allan found himself gazing into the cheerful face of Reddy Magraw.
“Why, Reddy,” he cried, “what are you doing here?”
“I was sent after you,” Reddy explained, “an’ it was well I was—ye niver could have got up there by yerself.”
“Nonsense!” Allan protested. “I’m nearly as strong as I ever was. That gust caught me unprepared, that’s all. Come on.” He didn’t ask who it was had sent Reddy, but supposed of course it was Stanley.
“I’ll jest hold on to yer arm, anyways,” said Reddy. “Is this the well one?”
“Yes; hold on to it, if you want to; maybe it’ll keep you from being blown away;” but to himself Allan was forced to confess more than once that Reddy’s arm was a welcome support. For he was weaker than he had thought—weaker than he was willing to acknowledge, even to himself.
As for Reddy, he judged it best to say nothing as to how he had come to be appointed Allan’s body-guard. He had been routed out of bed by Mrs. Magraw at the first explosion. Across the yards from their front window they could see the flames spreading, and Reddy jumped into his clothes in a hurry.