“Here, Bill Vedder, go git me my whip,” was the keeper’s only answer.
As the boy addressed started for the whip Marion Marlowe walked directly up to Bert Jackson.
“What’s the matter with your arm, Bert?” she asked very softly.
Bert’s lips tightened a little and his face paled as he answered:
“It’s broke, I think,” he said in a whisper. “I fell off the load and struck right on my elbow, but Mr. Jenkins only laughed at me—he wouldn’t let me see a doctor.”
“It’s an outrage, a cowardly outrage!” cried Marion, hotly. “Oh, why am I not a man so that I could do something to aid you!”
The sensitive face was flushed with anger now and the tears trembled on her lashes as she turned toward Mr. Jenkins.
“His arm is broken,” she said, in an agonized voice. “Oh, Mr. Jenkins, do hurry and take him to a doctor!”
“Nonsense!” growled Mr. Jenkins, as he strode forward and made a motion to grasp Bert’s wounded arm.
“My God, don’t touch it!”