“Yes, sir,” he replied, giving it.
“I will write to his mother at once.”
“Is Alfred dangerously ill?” asked Walter.
“The doctor hopes for the best, but there is cause for anxiety. He will come to my place for his weekly chat and smoke, and so I shall hear the latest tidings to-night, and early to-morrow I shall come up here and see how the boys are. I think Cox will soon be well again, but with Alfred it will be a longer affair.”
Very early the next morning King was waiting at Mr. Cottenham’s to hear how they were. He had hardly slept a wink all night. He knew that he had been the cause of the accident; and if Alfred should die—! He shuddered at the thought.
Both Walter and Steve were out early, and found King still waiting outside Mr. Cottenham’s. At last the chemist appeared.
“How is Davidson, sir?” inquired King earnestly.
“Cox is much better, and in a couple of days will probably be quite well,” replied Mr. Cottenham.
“How is Alfred, sir?” asked Walter.
“I have just telegraphed for his mother to come at once.”