A CHILD OF THE JAGO
Perrott. "Come on, Father Sturt's boys!"
He was down. Just a punch under the arm from behind. As he rolled, face under, he caught a single glimpse of the hunchback, running. But what was this—all this?
A shout went up. "Stabbed! Chived! They chived Dicky Perrott!"
The fight melted. Somebody turned Dicky on his back, and he moaned, and lay gasping. He lifted his dabbled hands, and looked at them, wondering. They tried to lift him, but the blood poured so fast that they put him down. Somebody had gone for a surgeon.
"Take me 'ome," said Dicky, faintly, with an odd gurgle in his voice. "Not 'awspital."
The surgeon came running, with policemen at his heels. He ripped away the clothes from about the wound, and shook his head. It was the lung. Water was
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