“It will be mighty soon,” exclaimed the lawyer.
“Father,” broke in Art. “He said it was the boy’s aeroplane.”
“Correct,” snorted the circus man. “It’s his all right. I ain’t no claim on it an’ I ain’t goin’ to touch it. When he wants it let him send his friends for it.”
Although nearly all in the crowd were yet massed around the captured tiger, a number of spectators had been attracted by the showman’s loud words. Among these was Marshal Walter.
“Walter,” exclaimed Mr. Trevor with authority as he turned his back on the showman, “that wrecked flying machine belongs to the young man who was injured. The boy may die but we’re going to try to save him. Till he recovers, he’ll be at my house. I want you to see that his property is protected. To-night or in the morning I’ll send men to get it. Send your deputy to the circus and get any other property or baggage he may have.”
Without another look at the circus owner, Mr. Trevor summoned the two boys and shortly before six o’clock reached his home again. Here all were glad to learn that the suffering young aviator had aroused himself for a few moments under stimulants and, his wounds having been dressed, had fallen asleep. Other boys had already congregated at the house but only Art and Connie were permitted to tip-toe into the guest chamber for the first time. The boy on the bed looked very young. His big hands lay limply on the smooth white sheet.
“He ain’t groanin’, anyway,” whispered Art.
“He’s resting very well now,” explained Dr. Brown. “To-morrow we’ll know more about his injury. Mrs. Trevor,” he added, “I’ll have a nurse here in half an hour.”
It appeared that Mr. Trevor had been deeply incensed at the heartlessness of the circus people. He ordered the doctors to give the boy every attention and that no expense be spared in getting a competent nurse. He also did considerable telephoning before dinner and later, explained that he had arranged to have the remnants of Bonner’s machine collected and stored in McGuire’s farm and implement warehouse. When the nurse appeared later and Mrs. Trevor was relieved from duty she came down stairs as determined as her husband to protect the unfortunate victim.
All day Sunday the patient lay in the big, dark room, partly under the influence of opiates. There was no sign of suffering. That evening he began to show signs of consciousness. The doctors, hastily summoned, dressed his injuries anew and made a fuller examination. The verdict was that he was recovering from the shock. That night the boy was restless but the fact was kept from the family by the nurse. At breakfast, however, she said she had reported conditions to the doctor, who arrived within a few minutes. Dr. Brown had been with the sick boy only a short time when he came down stairs and told Mr. Trevor that the boy was fully conscious and insisted on knowing what had happened and where he was. “And you’d better tell him,” suggested the doctor. “Ease his mind all you can.”