Shirley laid him down gently, and ran toward the house.
“Dad!” she cried. “Dad! Gabriel has killed Uncle Frank!”
Mr. Willing roused from his reverie with a start and hurried to the stable. Others who had heard Shirley’s words followed him. Soon every human being on the place was crowding around the stable.
Mr. Willing arrived first, and bent over the form of his old servant.
“What’s the matter, Frank?” he asked gently.
“Gabriel,” gasped the old negro, whose senses had now come back to him. “Gabriel! He dun kill me!”
“Oh, it’s not as bad as all that,” replied Mr. Willing hopefully. He turned to the crowd of negroes gathered about. “Telephone for Dr. Thompson, quick, one of you. Here,” motioning to two others, “help me carry him to the house.”
Gently the old darky was picked up and carried to the house, where Mr. Willing laid him upon a sofa on the porch.
Uncle Frank was perfectly conscious now.
“How did it happen, Frank?” asked Mr. Willing. “Surely you knew Gabriel wouldn’t allow you in his stall.”