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Albert groaned, and tried to rise, but the girl gently yet firmly restrained him. Hartley was walking beside the doctor, talking loudly. “It was a devilish thing to do; the scoundrel ought to be jugged!”

Albert tried again to rise. “I’m bleeding yet; I’m soaking you; let me get up!”

The girl shuddered, but remained firm.

“No; we’re ‘most home.”

She felt no shame, but a certain exaltation as she looked into the faces about her. She gazed unrecognizingly upon her nearest girl friends, and they, gazing upon her white face and unresponsive eyes, spoke in awed whispers.

At the gate the crowd gathered and waited with deepest interest. It was enthralling romance to them.

“Ed Brann done it,” said one.

“How?” asked another.

“With the butt end of his whip.”

“That’s a lie! His team ran into Lohr’s rig.”

“Not much; Ed crowded him into the ditch.”

“What fer?”

“Cause Bert cut him out with Maud.”

“Come, get out of the way! Don’t stand there gabbing,” yelled Hartley, as he took Albert in his arms and, together with the doctor, lifted him out of the sleigh.

“Goodness sakes alive! Ain’t it terrible! How is he?” asked an old lady, peering at him as he passed.

On the porch stood Mrs. Welsh, supported by Ed Brann.

“She’s all right, I tell you. He ain’t hurt much, either; just stunned a little, that’s all.”

“Maud! child!” cried the mother, as Maud appeared, followed by a bevy of girls.

“I’m all right, mother,” she said, running into the trembling arms outstretched toward her; “but, oh, poor Albert!”

After the wounded man disappeared into the house the crowd dispersed. Brann went off by the way of the alley; he was not prepared to meet the questions of his accusers.

“Now, what in —- you been up to?” was the greeting of his brother, as he re-entered the shop.

“Nothing.”

“Welting a man on the head with a whip-stock ain’t anything, hey?”

“I didn’t touch him. We was racing, and he run into the culvert.”

“Hank says he saw you strike him.”

“He lies! I was strikin’ the horse to make him break!”

“Oh, yeh was!” sneered the older man. “Well, I hope you understand that this’ll ruin you in this town. If you didn’t strike him, they’ll say you run him into the culvert, ‘n’ every man, woman, ‘n’ child’ll be down on you, and me f’r bein’ related to you. They all know how you feel toward him for cuttin’ you out with Maud Welsh.”

“Oh, don’t bear down on him too hard, Joe. He didn’t mean t’ do any harm,” said Troutt, who had followed Ed down to the store. “I guess the young feller ‘ll come out all right. Just go kind o’ easy till we see how he turns out. If he dies, why, it’ll haf t’ be looked into.”

Ed turned pale and swallowed hastily. “If he should die I’ll be a murderer,” he thought. He acknowledged that hate was in his heart, and he shivered as he remembered the man’s white face with the bright red stream flowing down behind his ear and over his cheek. It almost seemed to him that he had struck him, so close had the accident followed upon the fall of his whip.

III

Albert sank into a feverish sleep that night, with a vague perception of four figures in the room–Maud, her mother, Hartley, and the young doctor. When he awoke fully in the morning his head felt prodigiously hot and heavy.

It was early dawn, and the lamp was burning brightly. Outside, a man’s feet could be heard on the squealing snow–a sound which told how still and cold it was. A team passed with a jingle of bells.

Albert raised his head and looked about. Hartley was lying on the sofa, rolled up in his overcoat and some extra quilts. He had lain down at last, worn with watching. Albert felt a little weak, and fell back on his pillow, thinking about the strange night he had passed–a night more filled with strange happenings than the afternoon.