It was coming at tremendous speed and no
horn had given warning of its noiseless approach. Van had but an
instant to step out of its path when on it shot, bearing down on the
unconscious boy ahead. The little chap was walking in the middle of
the road and whistling so loudly that no hint of the oncoming danger
reached him. The man in the motor saw the child and sounding his
horn, swerved to the left; but it was too late. The speeding car
caught the lad, struck him, and tossed him to the roadside rushing
on in its mad flight faster, if anything, than before.
In vain did Van call after it.
His protest was useless.
The great red vehicle whirled forward, a speck in the sunshine, and
was lost to view.
Terror-stricken Van darted to the child's side and bent over him.
His eyes were closed and an ugly gash in his forehead was bleeding
profusely.
[Illustration: NO HORN HAD GIVEN WARNING]
Binding a handkerchief round the little fellow's head the older boy
lifted him in his arms and retracing his steps ran with him down the
road, across the Sawyer lawn, and up the steps of the Colversham
infirmary.
A young orderly who was lounging at the door came forward and on
seeing the child's face spoke quickly to a physician who was passing
through the hall. Together they took the little boy from Van's arms
and carried him to a cot in an adjoining room, anxiously plying Van
with questions as they went.
Briefly Van related the story.
"Such men should be hung! Prison is too good for them!" snapped the
doctor angrily.
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