"I guess he's gone off with some of the other fellows," said Ben, thinking the matter of but little importance, but yet going out of the tent with Toby as he spoke. "Boys are just like eels, an' you never know where to find 'em after you once let 'em slip through your fingers." "But Abner promised me he'd stay right here," said Toby. "Well, some other fellows came along, an' he promised to go with them, I s'pose." "But I don't believe Abner would; he'd keep his promise after he made it." While they were talking they had gone out of the tent, and Ben started at once towards the crowd around the wagon, for he knew there was no reason why so many men should be there when they had work to do elsewhere. "Did you go over there to see what was up?" asked the old driver. "No, I thought they were getting ready to start, an' I could see Abner wasn't there." "Something's the matter," muttered the old man, as he quickened his pace, and Toby, alarmed by the look on his friend's face, hurried on, hardly daring to breathe. One look into the wagon around which the men were gathered was sufficient to show why it was that Abner had not remained by the tent as he had promised; for he lay in the bottom of the cart, to all appearances dead, while two of the party were examining him to learn the extent of his injuries. "What is the matter? How did this boy get hurt?" asked Ben, sternly, as he leaped upon the wagon, and laid his hand over the injured boy's heart. "He was standing there close by the guy ropes when we were getting ready to let the canvas down. One of the side poles fell and struck him on the head, or shoulder, I don't know which," replied a man. "It struck him here on the back of the neck," said one of those who were examining the boy, as he turned him half over to expose an ugly-looking wound around which the blood was rapidly settling. "It's a wonder it didn't kill him." "He hain't dead, is he?" asked Toby, piteously, as he climbed up on one of the wheels and looked over in a frightened way at the little deformed body that lay so still and lifeless. "No, he hain't dead," said Ben, who had detected a faint pulsation of the heart; "but why didn't some of you send for a doctor when it first happened?" "We did," replied one of the men. "Some of the village boys were here, and we started them right off." Almost as the man spoke, Dr. Abbott, one of the physicians of the town, drove up and made his way through the crowd. Toby, too much alarmed to speak, watched the doctor's every movement as he made an examination of the wounded boy, and listened to the accounts the men gave of the way in which the accident had happened. "His injuries are not necessarily fatal, but they are very dangerous. He lives at the poor-farm, and should be taken there at once," said the doctor after he had made a slight and almost careless examination.