intruder.

Whether she thought her stone would strike the young man or what
particular effect her childish bad manners would have if it should,
Polly herself did not know. However, she was startled and flushed hotly
when, with an exclamation of pain, the boy put down his pail, placing
one hand quickly to his head.

The four girls had started for their camp, but now Mollie, first
flashing a look of surprise and scorn at her usually beloved sister, ran
on ahead of the others. "I am so sorry," she said in a gentle, reserved
manner peculiar to her, "you were rude not to go away when we asked you,
but it is far worse for one of us to have been so childish as to strike
you. I am dreadfully ashamed."

The young man smiled, not very cheerfully it must be admitted, but at
least not looking so angry as he had the right to. "Did you throw the
stone?" he inquired. "I never would have believed a girl could throw
straight if I hadn't felt the blow, so perhaps you are learning one or
two things by living like boys. Never mind, I can see you are not the
guilty one."

"We are not trying to live in the least like boys, only like sensible
girls," Mollie started in to reply quietly, but the last part of her
sentence trailed off into a faint whisper, for the young man had just
taken his hand down from his head and his fingers were covered with
blood, a few drops were even trickling down the back of his neck inside
his soft flannel shirt.

The other three girls had now come close enough to see the blood also,