"I didn't think anything about it; I was so frightened I couldn't think."
"I hope he is not badly hurt," I added, musing.
"Badly hurt! Why, what do you mean, Ernest Thornton?" she asked, her terror renewed by my words.
"Don't be alarmed, Kate; he deserved all he got, and more too, if the blow didn't kill him."
"Why, Ernest Thornton!"
"Do you see this?" I added, holding up the wrench, which, from an instinct of self-preservation, I had kept in my hand.
"What is it?"
"An iron wrench. I struck Tom Thornton over the head with it, and he fell from the drivers box on the backs of the horses."
"O!" groaned she.
"It could not be helped, Kate."