Presently David opened his eyes, looking vaguely about. He had a confused
idea that something had happened to him, but just what it was he could not
think. He looked up into the anxious faces of his friends who stood around
him. Then he remembered.

"I'm not hurt," he said in a rather weak voice. Then he sat up and smiled
feebly at the company. "I just had the wind knocked out of me. I am sure
no bones are broken. How about my pet bird? Has she smashed her little
ribs?"

"No, old fellow," exclaimed Hippy in a reassuring tone, for Hippy had
never been able to endure the sight of suffering or disappointment. "Her
wings are a good deal battered, that's all. But are you all right, old
man?" he added, feeling David's arms and legs, and even putting an ear
over his heart.

"It's still beating, you foolish, old fat-head," said David, patting his
friend affectionately on the back.

In the meantime Anne had helped Mrs. Gray to her feet.

"I declare, I feel as though I had dropped from the clouds myself," said
the old lady, wiping her eyes. "I am so stunned and bewildered. David, my
dear boy, if you had been seriously hurt I should never have forgiven
myself for allowing you to fly off like that. What would your poor mother
say if she knew what had happened?"

"It won't be necessary to break the news to her, Mrs. Gray," said David.
"I shall be as good as new inside of a few minutes. It's my poor little
bird here who has received the injuries. Look at her poor battered wings!