Of all people why should this calamity come to Jackson? In addition to the suffering that must of necessity accompany such a disaster Peter reflected, as he went along, that Nat could ill afford to lose his wages and incur the expense of doctor’s bills. Poor Nat! It seemed as if he had none of the good luck he deserved—only disappointment and misfortune.
Peter found his chum stretched on the floor in a dark little entry adjoining the workroom, with Bryant keeping guard.
“I am down and out this time, no mistake, Pete!” called Nat with a rather dubious attempt to be cheerful. “You see what happens when you go off into another department and leave me. I was all right while you were here.”
Peter knelt beside him.
“I’m mighty sorry, old chap,” he said. “Does it hurt much?”
As Jackson tried to turn, his lips whitened with pain.
“Well, rather! I guess, though, I’ll be all right in a few days. It’s only a sprain.”
As Peter glanced questioningly at Bryant, who was standing in the shadow, the older man shook his head and put his finger to his lips.
“Well, anyway, Nat,” answered Peter, trying to feign a gaiety he did not feel, “you will at least get a vacation. I told you only the other day you needed one.”
“I don’t need it any more than you do, Peter. Besides I can’t stop work, no matter what happens. What would become of my mother, and who would pay our rent if my money stopped coming in? No sir-e-e! I shall get this foot bandaged up and be back at the tannery to-morrow. The doctor can fix it so I can keep at work, can’t he, Mr. Bryant?”