"Help! oh, help me!" came a voice, and this time there was no mistaking the cry; a girl was calling.
Springing over the fence, with Dorothy following her, Tavia ran through the deep grass to the spot from which the sounds came.
Under the apple tree, suffering and helpless, they found Sarah Ford.
"Oh, what has happened!" wailed Dorothy, bending over her.
"You have killed me!" gasped Sarah.
"Is it your ankle?" Tavia asked, trying to find out what could be done to get Sarah home.
"Yes, and you did it!" declared the suffering girl. "You gave me that last push. Oh,—oh. Get a doctor—or I will surely die!" and she buried her head deeper in the grass, writhing in agony.
"Can't you move, Sarah dear?" Dorothy pleaded, "If you only could, perhaps we could make a hand chair and carry you."
"Oh, it would kill me. My leg is surely broken. I can feel the bone. Oh, dear! Oh dear me! What shall I do? What shall I do?" and the unfortunate girl burst into hysterical weeping—
"I'll run and get a wagon—or a carriage—or something," Tavia said nervously, for she was very much frightened at Sarah's condition.