"Isn't she an old pig!" he said, his eyes still dancing. "I don't care—I did ride her right round the paddock, anyhow, didn't I, Dad? Glory, my wrist hurts!"
"Let's see it," his father said quickly.
Garth held up a wrist for inspection, catching his breath as he did so, unable to restrain himself from wincing. It was queerly twisted. Tom gave a short whistle.
"Oh, you poor little kid!" he said. "You've put it out, I believe!"
Aileen, white-faced, was through the gate, her arm round Garth's shoulders.
"Tom! What will we do?"
"There's a doctor staying at the hotel, I know," Tom said quickly. "I'm afraid to tackle it myself—I don't know enough about it. Don't worry old man, we'll have you right in no time. Get ready, Aileen, and put his arm in a sling. I'll run the horses up."
He flung himself on to the amazed Jane, who went out of the gate and across the paddock with more haste than she considered either pleasant or proper. Aileen caught sight of Horrors' gaping face.
"Get the buggy out—quickly!" she told him. "And have the harness ready." She watched him go shambling towards the harness-room before she turned to take Garth indoors.
"Does it hurt you much, little son?"