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Chapter 4
Butabranchofhawthorngotmeinthechest,liftedmeupandheldme,whileatonortwoofexpensivemetalslippedbelowme,buckedandpitched,andthendroppedwithanalmightysmashfiftyfeettothebedofthestream.
Slowlythatthornletmego.Isubsidedfirstonthehedge,andthenverygentlyonabowerofnettles.AsIscrambledtomyfeetahandtookmebythearm,andasympatheticandbadlyscaredvoiceaskedmeifIwerehurt.
Ifoundmyselflookingatatallyoungmaningogglesandaleatherulster,whokeptonblessinghissoulandwhinnyingapologies.Formyself,onceIgotmywindback,Iwasrathergladthanotherwise.Thiswasonewayofgettingridofthecar.
“Myblame,sir,”Iansweredhim.“It’sluckythatIdidnotaddhomicidetomyfollies.That’stheendofmyScotchmotortour,butitmighthavebeentheendofmylife.”
Hepluckedoutawatchandstudiedit.“You’retherightsortoffellow,”hesaid.“Icanspareaquarterofanhour,andmyhouseistwominutesoff.I’llseeyouclothedandfedandsnuginbed.Where’syourkit,bytheway?Isitintheburnalongwiththecar?”
“It’sinmypocket,”Isaid,brandishingatoothbrush.“I’macolonialandtravellight.”
“Acolonial,”hecried.“ByGad,you’retheverymanI’vebeenprayingfor.AreyoubyanyblessedchanceaFreeTrader?”
“Iam,”saidI,withoutthefoggiestnotionofwhathemeant.
Hepattedmyshoulderandhurriedmeintohiscar.
