"We must find Dick Cronk and attend to his wounds," protested David,
addressing the others who were there. "He came to my assistance before
any one else arrived. I think he dropped from the sky."
Ruby Noakes closed her eyes suddenly to hide the telltale gleam that
had leaped into them. She knew that Dick Cronk was fighting for her,
and her alone.
"I saw him just now," she said after a moment. "He didn't have a
scratch and he is perfectly mad with joy over the whole thing."
"He could fall out of a balloon and not even get a lump on his head,
that feller could," grumbled the contortionist, who had two very black
eyes and several "lumps."
Braddock, partially sobered by the serious consequences likely to
arise from the riot, spent an uncomfortable day in the town. The
circus manager succeeded in half-way convincing the authorities that
his people had been set upon and were in no way responsible for the
affray. Threats of suit against the town for damages had the desired
effect: the authorities were eager to let the aggregation depart.
But in that sanguinary conflict David Jenison had won more than his
spurs; these volatile, impressionable people, in disdain for their own
positions in life, were saying, "Blood will tell.
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