It was only after the greatest difficulty that Jet rose to his feet, looked around for an instant as if expecting another attack, and then staggered toward the stage entrance.
He spent ten minutes covering a distance of twenty yards, and, on opening the door, was greeted by one of the company, who had evidently come out for a breath of fresh air.
"You had better not let the manager see you until after he cools off a little more, for—— What is the matter, lad?"
This last question after the boy's pale and blood-stained face could be seen.
"Somebody struck me."
"Struck you? It looks more as if they had been trying to kill you."
"Perhaps that was what they did want to do," and Jet half-seated himself, half-fell on a trunk.
However aggrieved the members of the company may have felt because of Jet's failure, none of them were so hard-hearted as to ignore the fact of his suffering. Those not on the stage were immediately summoned by the boy's questioner, and in a very few seconds a messenger had been sent in search of a surgeon.
"Don't bother about me; I'll be all right in a little while," Jet managed to say, and then he fainted.
It was soon found that the boy's injuries, while severe, were not dangerous.