After that all was a blank until he opened his eyes to see 'Lish Davis bending over him as he had done on that night when Jip Collins set fire to the shed in Baxter's lumber-yard.
"Where's the baby?" he asked, attempting to rise, but forced back by the deathly faintness which assailed him.
"His mother has got him by this time, Amateur, and you've made a man of yourself in shorter order than the majority of us are able to do. It was a close shave, lad, and we'll have no more like it till the time comes when it's your duty to take such chances."
The driver's voice sounded oddly to the half-stupefied boy; usually it was gruff, like that of a man in a bad temper, but now it quavered as if the speaker was making an unsuccessful effort to control his emotions.
Seth allowed his head to fall back on a pile of rubber blankets, and as his cheeks touched the smooth surface there came to him the thought that once more he was in the patrol-wagon.
How long he remained apparently unable to speak he had no idea, and then he heard the shout from afar off, but readily distinguishable above the panting of the engines:
"How is Ninety-four's kid?"
'Lish Davis rose to his feet and cried in reply:
"He's got his head again, and appears to be all right!"
At that moment some one stepped to the side of the wagon and asked the driver: