While the showman was thinking the matter over, Mr. Kennedy
appeared at the opening of the dog tent.
"Morning," he greeted, which was responded to by a muttered
"Huh!" from James Sparling.
"Come in. What are you standing out there for?"
Kennedy was so used to this form of salutation that he paid no
further attention to it than to obey the summons.
He entered and stood waiting for his employer to speak.
"I want you to tell me exactly what occurred last night, when
young Forrest got hurt, Kennedy."
"I can't tell you any more about it than you heard last night. He
had started to make his dive before I noticed that anything was
wrong. He didn't stop until he landed on his head. They said
the wire snapped."
"Did it?"
"I guess so," grinned Kennedy.
"Who is responsible for having picked out that wire?"
"I guess I am."
"And you have the face to stand there and tell me so?"
"I usually tell the truth, don't I?"
"Yes, yes; you do. That's what I like about you."
"Heard from the kid this morning?"
"Yes; he'll be all right in a few days. Concussion and general
shaking up; that's all, but it's enough.
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