“Say, boys,” said Sam, kneeling down beside him, “I'm afraid he's hurted bad.”
In his writhing Cameron lifted one leg. It toppled over to one side.
“Jumpin' Jeremiah!” said Sam in an awed voice. “His leg's broke! What in Sam Hill can we do?”
As he spoke there was a sound of running feet, coming down the lane. The moon, shining through the breaking clouds, revealed a figure with floating garments rapidly approaching.
“My cats!” cried Sam in a terrified voice. “It's Mandy.”
Like leaves before a sudden gust of wind the group scattered and only Sam was left.
“What—what are you doin'?” panted Mandy. “Where is he? Oh, is that him?” She flung herself down in the dust beside Cameron and turned him over. His face was white, his eyes glazed. He looked like death. “Oh! Oh!” she moaned. “Have they killed you? Have they killed you?” She gathered his head upon her knees, moaning like a wounded animal.
“Good Lord, Mandy, don't go on like that!” cried Sam in a horrified voice. “It's only his leg broke.”
Mandy laid his head gently down, then sprang to her feet.
“Only his leg broke? Who done it? Who done it, tell me? Who done it?” she panted, her voice rising with her gasping breath. “What coward done it? Was it you, Sam Sailor?”