worst!" complained the Old Man. "Is he hurt bad?"

"J. G.," began the Little Doctor in a voice all the fiercer for being
suppressed, "I want you to kill that horse. Do you hear? If you don't
do it, I will!"

"You won't have to, if old Splinter goes down and out," said Weary, with
quiet meaning, and the Little Doctor gave him a grateful flash of gray
eyes.

"How bad is he hurt?" repeated the Old Man, impatiently. "You're
supposed t' be a doctor--don't you know?"

"He has a scalp wound which does not seem serious," said she in an
attempt to be matter-of-fact, "and his left collar bone is broken."

"Doggone it! A broken collar bone ain't mended overnight."

"No," acquiesced the Little Doctor, "it isn't."

These last two remarks Chip heard. He opened his eyes and looked
straight up into the gray ones above--a long, questioning, rebellious
look. He tried then to rise, to free himself from the bitter ecstasy
of those soft, enfolding arms. Only a broken collar bone! Good thing
it was no worse! Ugh! A spasm of pain contracted his features and
drew beads of moisture to his forehead. The spurned arms once more
felt the dead weight of him.

"What is it?" The Little Doctor's voice called to him from afar.