"Not much—" Mr. Linden answered with some effort. "I find myself in very kind hands."
"Are you hurt anywhere else?"
"Somewhat—the shot scattered, I think."
There was a smothered execration, and then it was a very kind hand that renewed the touch of cold water to his forehead, though a big, brown and rough one.
"I've sent for the doctor—and now I'll get you a nurse. You keep quiet, till you can do something else."
Mr. Simlins gently went forth; and in a minute after was in the midst of his husking party in the barn.
"Reuben Taylor!" said the farmer—"You don't mind takin' a run, do you? Wouldn't you just as lieves help me catch that black heifer—afore she gets to Pequot?"
Reuben started up, and signified his ability to catch anything whatever. He was not alone; for half a dozen others volunteered to be equally ready.
"You keep where you be!" said the farmer with a wave of his hand to the half dozen. "I don't let everybody chase that 'ere heifer—you've got to catch her by the head and not by the foot, I tell you! Reuben, you come along."
And getting him well outside of the barn and half way towards the house, Mr. Simlins said in a very low growl indeed,