“Bosh! That ball has lamed my chest. I don’t know but what I’m hurt inside.”
“Let us help you home, Mr. Dolby,” said Frank.
“Get away!” shouted the old man, not much like a person very seriously injured. “See here, Bob Bouncer, I know your mean feelings towards me.”
“I haven’t any,” declared Bob.
“Bah! Well, whether you have or not, who’s going to pay for that?”
Mr. Dolby pointed down to the spot where he had fallen. A half-sunken stone marked a base. In falling, it seemed that his watch had spilled out of his pocket. It had landed on the stone. There it lay, its case open and bent, and its glass face smashed in.
“It’s too bad, I declare!” spoke Frank. “Mr. Dolby, we’re awfully sorry you broke your watch.”
“I didn’t break it,” snarled the perverse old man. “You fellows smashed it—Bob Bouncer did. Think it smart, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t,” answered Bob, “for I didn’t mean to do it.”
“Well, I’ll make you smart for it, never fear.”