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 Crane’s course was run…. His neck was broken. He was dead.

Angus, frightened by the calamity as any boy would be frightened, bewildered, almost in a panic, scanned the road for help, but there was none—no one upon whom to rely but himself…. He laid his enemy upon the grass and backed his car to the spot; his strength permitted him to lift the Judge and to place him gently in the tonneau…. Then, from the wreckage of the car he extricated Judge Crane’s bag, made certain that what he sought was there and placed it upon the seat beside himself…. This done, he turned the car toward Rainbow….

Half an hour later he drew up before the bank, not conscious of the crowd which had gathered before the door…. He alighted. Judge Crane’s bag gripped in his hand, and forced his way to the door, unaware how he was compelled to force his way, or how exclamations and questions rained upon him from his excited neighbors…. He walked to the teller’s wicket and pushed the bag toward Gene.

“There it is,” he said. “I—got it back.” He paused, swayed, clung to the grating. “Judge Crane is—outside,” he finished, and then sank limply into a chair….