NEKA SHOWS HIS BRAVERY.
From Wilkesbarre the company proceeded to Allentown and then to
Easton, and from that point visited several cities in New Jersey.
Finally they struck Trenton, and here it was that Neka came close to
losing his life.
It was a blustery day and the wintry air was full of snow, which blew
in all directions at once.
“We’re in for a regular storm and no mistake,” remarked Bindley, as
he gazed up at the sky. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we were snowbound
here Saturday night.”
“It’s only Friday to-day,” said Neka. “There may be a change in the
next twenty-four hours.”
As usual the theatre was packed. Only two dull weeks in the whole
tour had thus far been struck, and the partners were just three
thousand and two hundred dollars richer than when they had started
out from New York City.
Shortly after dinner Neka left the hotel to take a walk over to the
State House, to look in on a session of the legislature, for this was
something of a novelty to the young Fire King.
He listened to the various speakers for about an hour and a half and
then looked at his watch.
“Phew! five o’clock!” he murmured. “I’ll have to be getting over to
the theatre to arrange for that new bed of fire trick.”
Pushing his way through the crowd Neka made his way to the sidewalk
and started for the theatre, situated on the main street, which, by
the way, is hilly and full of turns.
He had gone a distance of several blocks when a cry of horror from
several girls standing on a corner attracted his attention.
“Oh, Mary, look!”
“That lady will be killed!”
“What can be the matter with that horse?”
And then the girls ran back into the doorway of a nearby store.
Neka followed their looks and saw a horse harnessed to a cutter
plunging wildly about the street but a rod away. The infuriated
animal had already kicked the dashboard of the cutter to splinters,
and now he seemed bent upon demolishing the rest of the turnout.
In the cutter sat a young lady, certainly not over nineteen years of
age. She was tall and thin, and at present she was deadly pale. The
reins had dropped from her hands into the snow, and she clung to the
side of her seat, unable to help herself.
Several men ran out to catch the horse, but the animal became wilder
than ever and bit at them, meanwhile foaming at the mouth. The truth
was that he was suffering from a crazy streak, brought on, as it
often is, by snow blindness.
Neka did not hesitate to spring forward with the others, and when
they fell back he made a quick leap and managed to gain the horse’s
back.
At first the animal kicked and plunged more madly than ever. Then
without warning he turned around and galloped up the street as
swiftly as he could go.
A shout immediately arose.
“Look out there!”
“Clear the track!”
“If that horse runs into anything, both of them will surely be
killed!”
On and on went the horse, pulling the cutter after him, over the
uneven snow.
“Hold fast, lady,” cried Neka, not, however, daring to look back. “I
think I can bring him to a stand.”
“Yes, yes,” came in reply. “Whoa, Nestor, whoa!”
But Nestor did not intend to stop. At the sound of his mistress’
voice he went on faster than ever.
Several blocks were passed and the turnout had a dozen narrow escapes
from running into other sleighs and into wagons and carriages.
By this time Neka had the animal around the neck and was trying his
best to subdue him by every art in his power.
But for once he could do absolutely nothing.
Another corner appeared just ahead and here stood a street stand upon
which flared a gasoline torch.
Frightened by a sudden puff of the torch in the falling snow the
horse made a mad leap to one side and swung around the corner.
As he did this the cutter went over on its side and the young lady
was pitched out on her head.
She struck in a hard spot close to the gutter, and lay there stunned
and bleeding.
On and on again went the horse, the cutter banging upon his heels.
Neka dared not look back, although he felt something was wrong.
Then, without warning, the horse shied again, mounted the sidewalk
and rushed pell-mell through an alley-way into a barn at the rear.
Before he had a chance to leap off Neka was caught between the animal
and the barn doorway. He slipped to the ground, and then all became a
dark and terrible blank.
When a hostler and another man picked him up he was covered with
blood, which flowed from the side of his head and from beneath his
torn shirt bosom.
“He’s about done for,” said the hostler, and the other man ran out to
get a doctor and summon an ambulance.
The horse was dying, having almost crushed in his skull by running
headlong into his stall. A little later he was put out of his misery
by being shot.
The doctor who examined Neka said he was suffering from a fracture
of the skull and two or three broken ribs. The boy was placed in the
ambulance as carefully as possible and taken to the hospital, where
he was put in a private ward. Longfellow Wadsworth was summoned and
came without delay.
It was a great shock to the elocutionist when he saw Neka lying on
the bed, white and still.
“What do you think of this case, doctor?” he asked, hurriedly.
“Very bad, very bad indeed,” was the sober reply.
“Do you mean he won’t pull through?” ejaculated Longfellow Wadsworth.
“I can’t say that. But your friend is very seriously injured. He may
regain consciousness and come out all right in the end and he may
not.”