His uncle Frank Jenison was dead. Some one was shouting it in his ear. There had been a deathbed confession. He was no longer a fugitive! He was exonerated—he was free!
He laughed hysterically and pressed the damp sheet to his lips. Ruby Noakes threw her arms about his neck and kissed him for joy. The voices of the half hundred people crowding about him buzzed in his ears. They were shaking hands with him, slapping his back and laughing with him, although he did not know that he laughed.
Above the hum of eager voices rose one that was discordant, hoarse with passion.
"Clear out! Skip, I say! All of you!"
Thomas Braddock was shoving the glad performers about as if they were tenpins, raging like the lions which roared their surprise at this unseemly hubbub in front of the cages.
From sheer excitement, David's head was reeling; his senses began to slip away; his legs were tottering.
Suddenly the crowd fell away. One man was facing him. The unconscious smile was still on the boy's lips as he looked into the convulsed face of Braddock. The power to dodge the blow aimed at his face had gone with his wits. He only knew that Christine's father was striking; he could only wait, with hazy indifference, for the blow to land.
"I won't have any disobedience here," roared the frantic manager, as he struck out in his bestial rage.
"I guess that'll stop it."
David was lying at his feet, stunned by the savage blow.