The others carried him and laid him on a horsing; and there they still supported his head and his broken limbs, sick with horror.
The man's face was white, and his eyes stared, and his body quivered. They sprinkled him with water.
Then he muttered, “All right. I am not much hurt.—Ay, but I am though. I'm done for.”
After the first terror of the scene had passed, the men were for taking him to the infirmary. But Little interposed, eagerly, “No, no. I'll pay the doctor myself sooner. He shall be nursed at home, and have all that skill can do to save him. Oh, why, why would he not listen to me?”
A stretcher was got, and a mattress put on it, and they carried him through the streets, while one ran before to tell the unhappy wife, and Little took her address, and ran to Dr. Amboyne. The doctor went instantly to the sufferer.
Tucker assisted to carry the victim home. He then returned to Grotait, and told him the news. Dan was not so hardened but what he blubbered in telling it, and Grotait's eyes were moist with sympathy.
They neither of them spoke out, and said, “This upsets our design on Little.” Each waited to see whether that job was to go on. Each was ashamed to mention it now. So it came to a standstill.
As for Little, he was so shocked by this tragedy and so anxious about its victim, that he would not go out to Cairnhope. He came, in the evening to Dr. Amboyne, to inquire, “Can he live?”
“I can't say yet. He will never work again.”
Then, after a silence, he fixed his eyes on young Little, and said, “I am going to make a trial of your disposition. This is the man I suspected of blowing you up; and I'm of the same opinion still.”