“Don’t ask me,” another answered; “I just followed the crowd.” All the while a boy in a scout suit was moving his hand around near Hervey’s foot. Emerging from his stunned condition, Hervey had an odd impression that this boy was stirring something in a bowl. Far off was the monotonous, incessant music of the merry-go-round. Then, as Hervey blinked his eyes and brushed his soaking hair back with a wet hand it seemed as if this boy were playing the music, for his hand moved in time with that muffled clamor. Hervey lapsed off into unconcern again and closed his eyes. It was only giddiness. When he opened them again, he watched the boy with a kind of detached curiosity. He felt a tightening sensation in his leg. Then he realized that the boy had been drawing a bandage tighter and tighter around his calf by revolving a stick. Still Hervey was only vaguely interested. “Stopped?” some one asked. “Yep,” said the boy. He sat at Hervey’s feet with hands clasped around his drawn-up knees. Soon he arose and stood looking as if to ascertain on his own account if some one were coming. “Who are you looking for?” Hervey asked weakly. “The doctor,” answered the boy. He was a tall boy. As he stood looking, he kicked something with his foot. “What’s that?” Hervey asked. The boy picked it up and dangled it in front of him, laughing. It was just about recognizable as the body of a kewpie doll, and it was a ghastly sight, for the head hung loose and the body was mangled and out of shape. “Glad you’re not as bad off as that, hey?” said the scout. “I won that blamed thing ringing canes and I got--I bet I got three yards of cloth off it; there goes.” And twirling it cruelly by one leg, he hurled it gayly over the heads of the throng. “You people get away from here, go on,” said the robust voice of a policeman. “Go on, all of yer, get away from here; he ain’t hurt much. Go on, chase yourselves, you kids.” “He can’t chase me anyway,” said Hervey. “That’s a good one,” laughed the boy. “Nor me either; I’m the surgeon general or whatever you call it.” “You can’t chase me,” said Hervey to the policeman. “That’s where I’ve got the laugh on you.” “If I was your father, I’d chase you to the padded cell,” the policeman commented, then busied himself clearing away the loiterers. The scout examined his twisted bandage and gave it one more twist. Then he sat down on the ground beside Hervey. Two or three men and the policeman lingered about, but did not bother these two. “That was some crazy stunt all right,” said the scout. “Did I--where did I fall?” Hervey asked. “You went in the tank, but only just, I guess. Your foot must have knocked the edge; four of the electric bulbs were broken. I don’t think there’s any glass in your foot; anyway, I stopped it bleeding. Gee, boy, I did murder that kewpie doll! How the dickens did you happen to do that, anyway?” Hervey told him briefly.