“Yes. But, let me add, he has had a close call from death. If I had not used the pump and given him that medicine to counteract the effect of the powder he might never have regained consciousness.”
This plain statement from Doctor Fremley made all present shudder.
“I don’t see why Jack should take the powder,” said Pepper. “He didn’t say anything to me about a headache. He told me he was feeling fine.”
“And he told me the same thing,” declared Dale.
“Perhaps he was a bit nervous over this gymnastic contest and thought to quiet his nerves,” suggested George Strong. “But I must admit that doesn’t look like Major Ruddy. I never knew him to be nervous.”
“He doesn’t know what nervousness means,” declared Andy. “If he took the powder I guess he did it by mistake. Maybe he thought it was for indigestion, or something like that.”
While this talk was going on in the bedroom, Reff Ritter was downstairs in the library, surrounded by a number of his friends. The bully was ill at ease. He had not expected the grave turn affairs had taken. Jack was certainly in bad shape. What if the young major should die? A shiver ran down Ritter’s backbone, which he tried in vain to conceal.
“What’s the matter, are you cold?” asked Coulter.
“No, I—er—I’m a little upset,” answered the bully.
“Well, you needn’t be,” declared Paxton. “It wasn’t your fault that Ruddy fainted and fell.”