Maxwell rushed into the middle of the street to see if he could be of any assistance in stopping the horse and preventing a catastrophe; but before he could get near enough to be of any service the animal suddenly shied, the buggy gave a final lurch, overturned, and was thrown violently against a telegraph pole. The horse, freed, dashed on, dragging the shafts and part of the harness. The occupant of the buggy had been thrown out against the telegraph pole with considerable force, knocked senseless, and lay in the gutter, stained with blood and dirt. Mrs. Burke and Betty lifted the body of the buggy, while Maxwell pulled out from under it the senseless form of a man; and when they had turned him over and wiped the blood from his face, they discovered, to their utter amazement, that the victim was no less a personage than the Senior Warden, Sylvester Bascom.
Of course there was nothing to be done but to carry him as best they could into the tent, and lay him on a lounge. Maxwell ran hastily for a doctor, while Hepsey and Mrs. Betty applied restoratives, washed the face of the injured man, and bound up as best they could what appeared to be a serious wound on 255 one wrist, and another on the side of his head. The doctor responded promptly, and after a thorough examination announced that Bascom was seriously hurt, and that at present it would be dangerous to remove him. So Mrs. Betty and her guest removed Maxwell’s personal belongings, and improvised a bed in the front room of the tent, into which Bascom was lifted with the greatest care. Having done what he could, the doctor departed, promising to return soon. In about twenty minutes there were signs of returning consciousness, and for some time Bascom looked about him in a dazed way, and groaned with pain. Mrs. Burke decided at once to remain all night with Mrs. Betty, and assist in caring for the warden until Virginia could arrive and assume charge of the case. After about an hour, Bascom seemed to be fully conscious as he gazed from one face to another, and looked wonderingly at the canvas tent in which he found himself. Mrs. Burke bent over him and inquired:
“Are you in much pain, Mr. Bascom?”
For a moment or two the Senior Warden made no answer; then in a hoarse whisper he inquired:
“Where am I? What has happened?”
“Well, you see, something frightened your horse, and your buggy was overturned, and you were thrown 256 against a telegraph pole and injured more or less. We picked you up and brought you in here, cleaned you up, and tried to make you as comfortable as possible. The doctor has been here and looked you over, and will return in a few minutes.”
“Am I seriously injured?”
“You have two bad wounds, and have evidently lost a good deal of blood; but don’t worry. Mrs. Betty and I and the rest of us will take good care of you and do all we can until Virginia is able to take you home again.”
“Where am I?”
A curious expression of mild triumph and amusement played across Mrs. Burke’s face as she replied: