He
started to walk on.
"No you don't!" cried the farmer, with a snarl. "As I
said, you folks has done damage enough with your threshing
machine, or whatever you call it. Now you've got to pay!"
"We are willing to," said Tom, as courteously as he could.
"But first we want to know who has been hurt, or possibly
killed. Don't you think it best to get them to a doctor, and
then talk about money damages later?"
"Doctor? Hurt?" cried the farmer, the other men in the
auto saying nothing. "Who said anything about that?"
"I thought," began Tom, "that you--"
"I'm talkin' about damages to my barn!" cried the farmer.
"You had no right to go smashing it up this way, and you've
got to pay for it, or my name ain't Amos Kanker!"
"Oh!" and there was great relief in Tom's voice. "Then we
haven't killed any one?"
"I don't know what you've done," answered the farmer, and
his voice was not a pleasant one. "I'm sure I can't keep
track of all your ructions. All I know is that you've ruined
my barn, and you've got to pay for it, and pay good, too!"
"For that old ramshackle?" cried Ned.
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