Then the thought flashed upon him: something
was wrong! His father was hurt! and with a cry he rushed forward, and bent
over the prostrate form. But no word of welcome, no sign of recognition
did he receive. Nothing but that vacant stare met his ardent gaze.
Slowly, very slowly, he grasped the meaning of it all, as the sympathetic
watchers told the brief story. His father had met with a serious accident.
A large birch tree in falling had lodged against another, a sturdy maple.
While cutting at the latter the birch had suddenly turned over and
swooping to the ground with a resounding crash had buried Mr. Flitter
beneath the branches ere he had had time to escape. He had been carried
home bruised, broken, and unconscious. The doctor had been hurriedly
summoned, and had done all in his power for the injured man. But in vain,
for in a short time he had breathed his last.
Dan uttered not a word when the tale had been told. He asked no questions,
neither did he make any outcry. He stood like one stricken dumb, dry-eyed
and motionless, gazing upon that quiet form lying upon the bed. Gently
they led him away, and tried to speak to him.
Pages:
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29