With absolute disregard of his own life, he hurled
himself at Bibbs like a football-player shunting off an opponent, and
to Mary it seemed that they both went down together. But that was all
she could see--automobiles, trucks, and wagons closed in between. She
made out that the trolley-car stopped jerkily, and she saw a policeman
breaking his way through the instantly condensing crowd, while the
traffic came to a standstill, and people stood up in automobiles or
climbed upon the hubs and tires of wheels, not to miss a chance of
seeing anything horrible.
Mary tried to get through; it was impossible. Other policemen came
to help the first, and in a minute or two the traffic was in motion
again. The crowd became pliant, dispersing--there was no figure upon
the ground, and no ambulance came. But one of the policemen was
detained by the clinging and beseeching of a gloved hand.
"What IS the matter, lady?"
"Where are they?" Mary cried.
"Who? Ole man Sheridan? I reckon HE wasn't much hurt!"
"His SON--"
"Was that who the other one was? I seen him knock him--oh, he's not
bad off, I guess, lady. The ole man got him out of the way all right.
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