“Look out what you say, ’Squire Hardy, for such words as those might make you trouble and be inconvenient to explain in a courtroom.”
“So you stand up for the hoodlum, do you, doctor?”
“No, sir; I simply speak for fair play. It was a coward who threw that stone, and he has laid himself open to the law and a serious punishment if this boy has been fatally injured.”
“He began the quarrel, and it was done in self-defense.”
“Let me advise you as a friend, ’squire, not to say too much. I will see if the boy is seriously hurt.”
While the other muttered over something under his breath, Dr. Menter knelt beside Rob, to make an examination of the wound. This was not found to be of a serious nature, and in a few minutes our hero was able to sit up.
“You’ve come out all right, youngster,” said the physician, “but it came pretty near being a close call.”
Upon finding that no one had been killed, the spectators, who had been rather frightened over the outcome of the affair a little while before, now boldly stepped forward.
“Stand back!” ordered Dr. Menter. “The boy is coming around all right, and there is no need of crowding upon us so.”
“Perhaps you have not heard who this fellow is, doctor,” said the ’squire, determined to follow up his side of the question. “He belongs to a herd of cattle the demented Deacon Cornhill brought into our midst yesterday from the slums of New York.”