The whole school, of course, knew what had happened. Two days before a young horse harnessed to a light cart, and frightened by a traction-engine, had bolted straight down the steep High Street at Marchester, full at its lower end with the crowded traffic of market-day, and the driver had been pitched off the box, so that it galloped on, unchecked and mad with fright. At the moment, David, with a bag of macaroons which he had just bought, came out of school-shop; throwing the parcel to Bags, who was with him, he had shouted out, “Catch hold, and don’t eat any,” and had rushed straight out into the road, taking a header, so to speak, at the horse. He had got hold of a rein, and then, still holding it, had been jerked off his feet, and the wheel of the cart had gone over him. But the horse was checked, and when they picked the boy up they found that the rein was still wrapped round his wrist.
There were severe internal injuries, not necessarily fatal, but, until several days had elapsed, every minute was critical with danger. Up till this morning all had gone well, but a few hours ago there had been disquieting symptoms, with fever and restlessness and signs of exhaustion. He had been conscious all day, and was no longer in great pain, but it was feared that nervous shock consequent on internal injury might overcome the splendid powers of rallying which he had shown at first. His father and Margery had come down the day before, but to-day they had scarcely seen him, since the utmost quiet was necessary. And an hour ago he had been told that he was in great danger. It was to this that the Head had referred.
Adams’s house was nearer to where the accident happened than the school sanatorium, and he had been moved there since every extra yard was extra danger, and for two days now a strange silence, as of life in a dream, had lain over it. There had been no need for Adams to tell them not to make any noise or disturbance, for the boys crept about like mice, and no voice was raised. It seemed impossible that this should have happened to anybody, most of all that it should have happened to David. And yet in the room at the end of the passage, just beyond the baize door into Adams’s private part of the house, he was lying now, midway between life and death, horribly tired, but not afraid.