“Say, what'll we do with him?” he said, pointing to the silent figure.
“Who is it?” enquired Mandy. “What's the matter?”
“It's Perkins,” replied Sam. “He hit him a terrible crack.”
“Perkins!” said Mandy with scorn. “Let him lie, the dog. Come on, take his head.”
“You can't do it, Mandy, no use trying. You can't do it.”
“Come on, I tell you,” she said fiercely. “Quit your jawin'. He may be dyin' for all I know. I'd carry him alone if it wasn't for his broken leg.” Slowly, painfully they carried him to the house and to the front door.
“Wait a minute!” said Mandy. “I'll have to git things fixed a bit. We mustn't wake mother. It would scare her to death.”
She passed quickly into the house and soon Sam saw a light pass from room to room. In a few moments Mandy reappeared at the front door.
“Quick!” whispered Sam. “He's comin' to.”
“Oh, thank goodness!” cried Mandy. “Let's git him in before he wakes.”