Once more they lifted their burden and with infinite difficulty and much painful manoeuvering they got the injured man through the doors and upon the spare room bed.
“And now, Sam Sailor,” cried Mandy, coming close to him, “you jist hitch up Deck and hustle for the doctor if ever you did in your life. Don't wait for nothin', but go! Go!” She fairly pushed him out of the door, running with him towards the stable. “Oh, Sam, hurry!” she pleaded, “for if this man should die I will never be the like again.” Her face was white, her eyes glowing like great stars; her voice was soft and tremulous with tears.
Sam stood for a moment gazing as if upon a vision.
“What are you lookin' at?” she cried, stamping her foot and pushing him away.
“Jumpin' Jeremiah!” muttered Sam, as he ran towards the stable. “Is that Mandy Haley? Guess we don't know much about her.”
His nimble fingers soon had Dexter hitched to the buggy and speeding down the lane at a pace sufficiently rapid to suit the high spirit of even that fiery young colt.
At the high road he came upon his friends, some of whom were working with Perkins, others conversing in awed and hurried undertones.
“Hello, Sam!” they called. “Hold up!”
“I'm in a hurry, boys, don't stop me. I'm scared to death. And you better git home. She'll be down on you again.”
“How is he?” cried a voice.