ladies, when a yellow
kyoodle dashes around the corner after a cat. Them skittish horses was
just waitin' for some such excuse as that, and before Mr. Driver can put
the curb bit on 'em hard enough they've done a quick pivot, cramped the
wheels, and turned us over on the soggy grass as neat as anything you
ever see.

Me bein' on the low side, I strikes the ground first; but before I can
squirm out, down comes Toodle on top, landin' his one hundred and ninety
pounds so sudden that it knocks the wind clear out of me. He's turned
over on the way down, so I've got his shoulder borin' into my chest and
the heavy part of him on my leg.

Course, the women squeals, and the horses cut up some; but the driver has
landed on his feet and has them by the head in no time at all, so we
wa'n't dragged around any. Noticin' that, I lays still and waits for
Toodle to pry himself loose. But the Doc. don't seem in any hurry to
move, and the next thing I know I hear him groanin' and mumblin' under
his breath. Between groans he was tryin' to say over that rigmarole of
his.

"I am a child of light--Oh, dear me!--of light and goodness!" he was
pantin' out. "Evil and fear and--Oh, my poor back!--and pain are
creatures of--Oh my, oh my!--of darkness! Nothing can harm me!"

"Say, something is goin' to harm you mighty sudden," says I, "if you
don't let me up out of this."

"Oh, my life blood!" he groans. "I can feel my life blood! Oh, oh! I am a
child of----"

"Ah, slush!" says I. "Get up and shake yourself. Think I'm a bloomin'
prayer rug that you can squat on all day? Roll over!" and I manages to
hand him a short arm punch in the ribs that stirs him up enough so I can
slide out from under. Soon's I get on my feet and can hop around once or
twice I finds there's no bones stickin' through, and then I turns to have
a look at him.

And say, I wouldn't have missed that exhibition for twice the shakin' up
I got! There he is, stretched out on the wet turf, his eyelids
flutterin', his breath comin' fast, and his two hands huggin' tight
what's left of that bu'sted paper bag, right up against the front of his
preacher's vest. And can you guess what's happened to them eggs?

"Oh, my life blood!" he keeps on moanin'. "I can feel it oozing
through----"

"Ah, you're switched, Toodle!" says I. "Your brain kodak is out of
register, that's all. It ain't life blood you're losin'; it's only your
new laid omelet that's leakin' over your vest front."