“Guess we're all in it,” said Sam stupidly. “It was jist a bit of fun, Mandy.”
For answer she swung her heavy hand hard upon Sam's face.
“Say, Mandy! Hold hard!” cried Sam, surprise and the weight of the blow almost knocking him off his feet.
“You cowardly brute!” she gasped. “Get out of my sight. Oh, what shall we do?” She dropped on her knees and took Cameron's head once more in her arms. “What shall we do?”
“Guess we'll have to git him in somewheres,” said Sam. “How can we carry him though? If we had some kind of a stretcher?”
“Wait! I know,” cried Mandy, flying off up the lane.
Before many minutes had passed she had returned, breathing hard.
“It's—the—-milkhouse—door,” she said. “I—guess that'll—do.”
“That'll do all right, Mandy. Now I wish some of them fellers would come.”
Sam pulled off his coat and made of it a pillow, then stood up looking for help. His eye fell upon the prostrate and senseless form of Perkins.