g arm.

"I'm--afraid;" then he set his teeth hard, his voice had sought to end
the sentence in a groan of anguish; the thing that was tearing at his
side had whistled in his lungs.

Allis stepped forward swiftly, and passing her arm about his waist,
helped Mike lead him to the door. Twice she put her left hand up
and brushed tears from her eyes; the struggle had unnerved her. Very
helplessly against her swayed the man she had laughed at half an hour
before. And he had been crushed saving her! But that was not why the
tears came--not at all. She was unstrung. "And he's got grit," she kept
muttering to herself; "he has never even groaned."

Together they succeeded in getting him into the buggy; then, gently,
Mike drove to the house.

XI

Mrs. Porter, reading a book on the veranda, heard the crunch of wheels
as a buggy, slow-moving, turned into the drive. She raised her eyes
leisurely, the matter of the story still in her mind; but with a quick
cry of "John!" she sprang to her feet, the volume, left to itself,
rustling from her lap to the floor. The mother eyes saw that something
was wrong, and the mother heart felt that some evil had come to Allis.
Mrs. Porter had gone white in an instant. Over her hung heavy at all
times the dread of some terrible accident coming to Allis through the
horses.

"Did you call, wife?" Porter asked as he came to the door. Then he
sprang quickly across the veranda at sight of his wife's blanched face,
and made to catch her in his arms. But she stopped him, pointing down
the drive. "It's Allis, John; oh, my God!"

"No, no," he answered, "they're just coming back; here, sit down again,
I'll see," and he raced down the steps just as Mike pulled up.

"What's the matter, girl?" he began.

"The young gentleman's got a bit shook up, sir; nothin' bad loike," Mike
broke in hastily. The diplomatic rider, "nothin' bad," was added for
Mrs. Porter's benefit, his quick eye having seen her white face.

"Miss Allis 's not hurt at all," he continued. "We'll help the young
gintleman in, an' I'd best go for the docthor, I'm thinkin."

Even as he was speaking they had helped Mortimer from the rig. He had
not uttered a sound; his teeth were set hard against the agony that
was in his side, and the queer dizziness that was over him left little
beyond a consciousness that he was being looked after, and that if he
could only keep going for a little, just use his legs a trifle, he would
presently