As Schneider and Everett left the school-house they saw that something unusual had happened, for a crowd was moving up the street. Women were leaning over fences. Children followed the crowd at a distance.
The Herr Doktor stood for a moment as if uncertain what to do. It was quite impossible for him to hasten, and he was of a phlegmatic nature not easily excited.
“Some one must be hurt,” Everett remarked. “I think they are carrying a man.”
In an instant Hans Peter had run down the hill. The school-master, who had remained in the school-house to put away the precious Bible, came to the door to look out. The crowd had crossed the rustic bridge.
“They are coming here,” Gerson Brandt exclaimed. “Can it be that aught hath happened to Wilhelm Kellar?”
He hastened down the street, and Schneider stepped out on the sidewalk.
“Wilhelm Kellar hath charge of our flannel-mill. He liveth with Brother Brandt,” explained the Herr Doktor. “I trust that no accident hath befallen him.”
It was plain that Adolph Schneider’s anxiety was twofold, and that he thought of the loss which might be unavoidable in case the mill superintendent became incapacitated.
When Everett and the Herr Doktor met the villagers, Gerson Brandt had stopped the crowd and was bending over the rude stretcher upon which lay the unconscious form of an old man.
“Wilhelm Kellar hath been stricken with a sudden illness,” said the school-master. “The apothecary hath worked over him and cannot restore him. Will not the Herr Doktor send for a physician?”