"And how did ye hurt yourself? When ye were walking along, couldn't ye
go for'rard quietly? Where's the hurt?"
"My foot!" said Sam bending down to it. "I can't stir it. Oh!"
"Did ye hurt yourself before or after ye gave such a loup?" Logan
grunted, going over however now to bring his own wisdom to bear on Sam's
causes of trouble. "Whatever possessed ye boy, with the end of the chair
in your hand?"
"I see a sarpent--" said Sam submissively.
"A sarpent!" echoed Logan--"it's not your pairt to be frighted if you
see a sarpent. What hurt would the sight of the brute do ye? There's no
harm come to ye, boy, but the start."
"I can't move it--" repeated Sam under his breath.
"Logan, perhaps he has sprained his ankle," said Daisy from her chair;
where at first she had been pretty well frightened.
"Weel--I don't see it," replied Logan slowly and unbelievingly.
"How does it feel, Sam?" Daisy asked.
"It don't feel without I stir it, Miss Daisy--and then, it's like a
knife."
"He has sprained it, I am afraid, Logan," said Daisy getting out of her
chair and coming to the consultation. "I think it is swelling now."
Sam had bared his unfortunate ankle, Logan looked up from it to the
little speaker whose words were so quietly wise, with unspoken
admiration.
"Can't ye walk then, Sam?" he urged. "Here is Miss Daisy in the middle
of the road and wanting to be at the Lake--and how much farther it may
be to the Lake is a subject unknown to me. Can't ye bear your foot
surely?"
Sam's reply was sorrowful but decided; he could not bear it at all, with
any weight upon it.
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