Probably the police and soldiers are trying to dislodge
them."
The firing continued, and from their windows the soldiers and people
could be seen moving towards the scene of disturbance.
"Let's go out and see what is going on," said Quincy.
"Let's stay in and keep out of trouble," was Tom's reply. "It is the
innocent bystander who always gets shot."
"I'm going down to the office to find out about it," and Quincy took
his hat and left the room.
Tom was suspicious of his intentions and followed him. Quincy had
left the hotel and was walking rapidly towards the scene of
disturbance. Tom ran after him, and kept him in sight, but did not
speak to him. At first he felt offended that Quincy had not asked him
to go with him. Then he reflected: "I virtually told him in advance
that I wouldn't go. He's his own master."
They were nearing a street from which came the sounds of conflict--
loud cries, curses, and the reports of firearms. Tom ram forward to
prevent Quincy from turning into the street. He was too late--Quincy
had turned the corner. Tom, regardless of danger, followed him. He
started back with a cry of horror. Quincy had been shot and was lying
upon the sidewalk, the blood streaming from a gun-shot wound in his
right arm. Tom took him up in his arms, as though he had been a
child, and returned to the safety of the unexposed street.
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