of them thought Speedy needed them now, for they were ignoring him except occasionally to cast dark looks at him, as if he alone were responsible for the disreputable appearance of their men and the risks they had just been through.
"We'll meet at the car tonight and talk it over!" Chris Walters, now in the custody of his wife, nearly as big as he, shouted back to Speedy.
"O.K.," replied Speedy.
"You'll do nothing of the kind—sitting in that stuffy car and figuring up more ways to break your neck," shrilled Mrs. Walters.
"Now, ma. Calm yourself," soothed Chris, patting her arm.
Speedy felt rather lonely at that moment. It must be rather nice to have somebody who loved you to come up protectively and inquire if you were hurt and even tongue-lash you a little for taking chances. He sighed. Then he braced himself and leaped down from the car and went up to inspect Nellie, who had stood patiently and quietly through the whole battle.
"How are you, old girl? All right?" asked Speedy, patting the animal on the nose and straightening up her head harness, which had been knocked slightly awry. Several times during the mêlée he had seen Nellie being pushed right and left by heaving bodies. Once she had snapped out of her lethargy long enough to lash out mildly at a Callahanite hurled against one of her hind legs and send him sliding on the paving with a well-planted hoof in his stomach.
