His voice trailed off. He swayed and got down from the stand, groping his way as if he could not see. The crowd gave way with a curious shudder looking into his wild burning eyes as he passed. A girl's scream back by the door rang through the court. The man moaned, put out his hands and fell forward. Kindly hands reached to catch him. The doctor left Billy and came to help.
They carried him outside and laid him on the grass in front of the court house. The doctor used every restorative he had with him. Men hurried to the drug store. They tried everything, but all to no avail. Ike Fenner the tailor was dead! He had gone to stand before a higher court!
When it was all over, the finger prints and the red tape, and the case had been dismissed, Mark came to Billy where he was lying in the big car waiting, with his eyes closed to keep back weak tears that would slip out now and then. He knelt beside the boy and touched his hand, the hand that looked so thin and weak and so little like Billy's:
“Kid,” he said gently, “Kid, you've been a wonder! It was really you that saved me, Buddy! My Buddy!”
Billy's tears welled over at the tone, the words, the proud intimate name, but he shook his head slowly, sadly.
“No,” he said, “No, it wasn't me. I tried, but I wasn't fit! It had to be Him. I didn't understand! They wouldn't believe me. But He came as soon as I ast!”
Mark looked at the doctor.
“Is he wandering a little?” he asked in a low tone:
“I shouldn't wonder. He's been through enough to make anyone wander. Here, son, take this.”
Billy smiled and obediently accepted his medicine. Mark held his hand all the way home. He knew that Mark didn't understand but he was too tired to tell him now. Sometime he would explain. Or perhaps Miss Lynn would explain it for him. He was going home, home to Saxy and Sabbath Valley and the bells, and Mark was free! He hadn't saved him, but Mark was free!