Ralston jumped the track, snatched the boy in one arm and lifted the perambulator bodily with his other hand, throwing them across the second pair of rails as he sprang. He fell at full length in the carriage way. He lay quite still for a moment, and the horses of the empty van stuck out their fore-feet and stopped with a plunge close beside him. The people paused on the pavement, and one or two came forward to help him. There is no policeman at this crossing as a rule, as there is one a block higher, at the main corner. Ralston was not hurt, however, though he had narrowly escaped losing his foot, for the wheel of one of the vehicles had torn the heel from his shoe. He was on his legs in a few moments, holding the terrified boy by the collar, and lecturing him roughly upon the folly of doing risky things with a perambulator. Meanwhile the horse-cars and wagons which had blocked the crossing having moved off in opposite directions, Bright and Frank Miner ran across. Bright was very pale as he passed his arm through Ralston’s and drew him away. Miner looked at him with silent admiration, having all his life longed to be the hero of some such accident.
“I wish you wouldn’t do such things, Jack,” said Bright, in his calm voice. “Are you hurt?”
“Not a bit,” answered Ralston, who seemed to have enjoyed the excitement. “The thing almost took off my foot, though. I can’t walk. Come over to the Imperial again. I’ll get brushed down, and take a cab. Come along--I can’t stand this crowd. There’ll be a reporter in a minute.”
Without further words the three recrossed the street to the hotel.
“I don’t suppose the most rigid doctor would object to my having something to drink after that tumble,” observed Ralston, as they passed through the crowded hall.
“Every man is the best judge of what he wants,” answered Bright.
Few people noticed, or appeared to notice, Ralston’s dilapidated condition, his smashed hat, his dusty clothes and his heelless shoe. He found a hall-boy who brushed him, and little Frank Miner did his best to restore the hat to an appearance of respectability.
“All right, Frank,” said Ralston. “Don’t bother--I’m going home in a cab, you know.”
He led the way to the bar, swallowed half a tumbler of whiskey neat, and then got into a carriage.