The shock of the collision was so slight that I feared I had missed my target. I shut off the power and swung sharply to the right. One glance proved that Mrs. Harding was uninjured.
Two objects were on the ground over which I had passed, and Carter and Chilvers were running toward them. Had I struck Harding? I suffered agonies in those moments, and I was the first to reach his side.
As I sprang from the car he raised to a sitting posture and attempted to speak, but it was impossible to do so. Before Mrs. Harding could reach him he was on his feet, making gestures to indicate that he was not hurt.
"He's all right!" shouted Chilvers, rushing up to us. "Don't be alarmed, Mrs. Harding, he only stumbled and fell. He's winded but will catch his breath in a minute!"
Mr. Harding panted, and between gasps bowed and made pantomimic signs to indicate that Chilvers had correctly diagnosed his ailment.
His wife has too much sense to give way to her emotions at such a time.
She brushed his clothes and wiped the perspiration from his face. Miss
Harding and the others were on the scene before his voice came back to
him.
"I'm—all—right!" he declared with much effort, walking and swinging his arms to prove it to himself and us. Then he shook hands with me, and I noted that his violent exercise had not impaired the strength of his grip. We walked over and looked at the dead bull.
"That was a good shot, Smith," he said. "That was great work. Do you know how close you came to hitting me?"
"It was very close, but I had one eye on you," I replied.
"I honestly believe it was the rush of air from the machine that keeled me over, but I was about done for. I doubt if I would have made that pond."