“There’s a bit of comedy in this near-tragedy,” David explained, after he had put a period to his merriment. “When you get back to the house, Saxe old man,” he went on, more seriously, “it’s up to you to get down on your marrow-bones, and say, ‘Thank you!’ to your indolent friend, Billy Walker.”
“Why?” Saxe demanded, in astonishment.
“For the simple reason that he came all-fired close to saving your life. In fact, I haven’t any doubt that he actually did save it. If not that, he saved you from a nasty wound.”
“I don’t understand yet,” Saxe said, perplexed.
“It’s just this,” David explained. “From the location of the bullet in the sideboard, I’m strongly of the opinion that you were exactly in the line of it, so that, if you had been sitting in your place at the table, you would have had it clean through the chest. You jumped to catch the decanter Billy knocked off the table with his elbow. That movement on your part saved you. It was Billy’s awkwardness that caused your action; so it’s up to you to thank him for saving your life. And, as a matter of fact, though I laughed, it’s not exactly a subject for mirth.”
Saxe’s expression had grown very grave as he listened. There comes always to the normal man a shock on realizing the imminence of death for himself. The fact that the peril is past alters the nature of the shock, but it hardly lessens it. So, in the present instance, the young man, whose great risk was thus suddenly brought home to him, felt the thrill of deep emotion, in which thankfulness for the fate that had intervened in his behalf was strong. He said nothing for a few moments, nor did Roy, who, in his turn, was affected as he understood the danger that had menaced his friend. Masters uttered an ejaculation, which was indeterminate as to meaning.
They found the others still in the dining-room, and immediately learned that Billy Walker was quite willing to sacrifice his modesty on the altar of fact; for he greeted their return with a roaring statement:
“Saxe, my boy, I saved your life, and I hope you’ll do me credit. From a study of the range of the trajectory of the bullet, I have learned that, had you been in your place at the table, the bullet would have penetrated your breast at a vital point. My clumsiness was the first cause of your escape—examine for yourself.” He waved a hand toward the sideboard.
Saxe, his face still grave, nodded assent.
“I appreciate it, Billy,” he said, “and I’ll not forget it, you may be sure. Dave, too, thought of it.”