WHILE the maddened animal had its attention fixed on Mr. Lee it did not observe what Dan was doing. The boy went quietly behind the bull, extended the stick, and, a moment later had caught the prong in the ring in the brute’s nose.
“Now you’ve got him! Now you’ve got him, Dan!” cried the storekeeper, as he hastily drew his leg up. “Hold him tight! Don’t let him get away!”
“I don’t intend to.”
“Take him away! Lead him way off!”
“I will. I’ll take him back to the south pasture, where the fence is good and strong.”
As soon as the bull felt the tugging of the ring in its sensitive nose it ceased its attempt to get at Mr. Lee. The big creature calmed down and allowed Dan to lead it away, though it did not go very willingly. Dan kept a firm hold of the stick, and, as long as he did so the bull could not approach him.
“You can come down now, Mr. Lee,” said the boy as he started along the road with the animal.
“Do you think it would be safe?”
“Oh, yes, he can’t get away from me now.”
The storekeeper slid to the ground. He was a little stiff from his climbing, and running, and his clothes were rather out of place.
“I’d like to shoot you, you miserable creature!” he exclaimed, shaking his fist at the bull.
“It’s too valuable an animal to shoot,” said Dan.
“I don’t care whether it is or not, I’d like to shoot it. And you can tell Peter Savage that I’m going to sue him and you too for the trouble you caused me.”
“It was not my fault, Mr. Lee.”
“I don’t care whose fault it was, I’m going to sue. You did this on purpose, and I’ll fix you for it too, Dan Hardy.”
“But, Mr. Lee—”
“Don’t you talk back to me. I said I’m going to fix you for this and I will.”
Dan saw it would be of little use to further argue with the man, so he turned away and gave his whole attention to managing the bull, which was bellowing hoarsely and pawing the earth.
Mr. Lee kept on down the road, muttering to himself, almost as angry, Dan thought, as was the bull.
“It wasn’t my fault,” remarked the boy to himself, “still I suppose I will be blamed for it.”
Nor was his anticipation disappointed. When he had put the bull back in the south pasture where the animal had first been kept, he returned to the farm. Some news of what had happened had already preceded him.
“Wa’ll, this is a pretty how-d’-do!” exclaimed Mr. Savage, as Dan went to the barn, where his master was feeding the horses for the night. “What ails ye, anyhow? Can’t ye do anything right?”
“What do you mean, Mr. Savage?”
“Jest what I say. What made you let that bull out an’ cause a lot of damage? Oh, I know all about it. Mrs. Dowden sent her boy over to see me, and she says I’ve got to pay for th’ eggs th’ bull smashed. It’s all your fault.”
“It wasn’t,” replied Dan firmly, but respectfully. “I did not know there was a loose place in the fence of the upper lot. You told me to let the bull in there and I did so. I could not help his breaking down the fence.”
“Did ye put th’ critter back safe?”
“Yes, sir, but it got Mr. Lee up a tree before I could do so,” and then, fearing Mr. Savage might get a wrong account of the various happenings from the persons involved, Dan told exactly what had happened.
“Wa’al, ye’re a nice sort of boy t’ have around a farm, I must say!” exclaimed Mr. Savage sarcastically. “Ye’re doin’ more harm than ye be good! Now I s’pose I’ll have a lot of damages t’ pay. Why don’t ye have some sense about ye? Good land o’ Tunket! I’ll be in the poorhouse ef I don’t look out.”
“I’m sorry it happened,” said poor Dan. “I didn’t—”
“Don’t talk t’ me!” interrupted Mr. Savage. “I’ve seen enough of ye fer one day. Here, ef ye kin do it without gittin’ int’ trouble, finish waterin’ them hosses. I’m goin’ t’ th’ village t’ see ef I can’t make some arrangement with Lee ’fore he sues me. He’s liable t’ do it.”
Dan was in very low spirits. Everything seemed to be going against him, and it is not to his discredit to say that he cried just a little as he fed the horses, and gave them water. He was very lonely, and he missed his mother very much.
As he entered the stall of the chestnut mare, an animal he frequently drove, the animal put her soft nose down on the boy’s shoulder.
“Good Bess,” he murmured. “I wonder if you care for me? There doesn’t any one else seem to around here.”
The mare whinnied, for she was fond of the boy, who was always kind to her.
Dan had little time for grief or reflection, however, as, before he was quite through with watering the animals, Mrs. Savage blew the horn for supper, the house being across the road from the barn. To the horn’s strident note she added her own voice:
“Now come along lively, Dan. I can’t keep supper all night fer a lazy, good-fer-nothin’ boy. I want t’ git th’ dishes washed up, an’ ye’ve got t’ dry ’em. Hurry up with that work, an’ don’t dawdle over it all night.”
Dan hurriedly finished with the horses and went into the house. The two hired men of the farm were already at the table, eating very fast, as if they feared some one would take the victuals away before they were through. They nodded to Dan who, after a hasty wash in the tin basin outside, took his place.
The kitchen was the room most in use in Mr. Savage’s house. There the meals were served, and, what little leisure time the hired men had, they spent there, when they were not at the village store, talking with their cronies.
The room was of fair size, and contained a large range, which made it very hot in summer time; a sink and pump, and a large mantlepiece, over which hung an old musket, that Mr. Savage said his grandfather had used in the Revolutionary War. Some of his acquaintances remarked that Mr. Savage was too cowardly to go to war himself, so he had no relics of the great Civil conflict.
Adjoining the kitchen was a sort of dairy and meal room, where Mrs. Savage kept the feed for numerous chickens. What with that, and the fact that a wood-shed, where fuel was kept, also opened out of this apartment, and with the hot stove and the smell of cooking, the kitchen was not the most cheerful place in the world.
“Don’t be all night over yer meal now,” said Mrs. Savage with a cross look at Dan. “Ye’ve made trouble enough as it is, an’ Mr. Savage had t’ go ’way without supper t’ see Mr. Lee ’count of that bull. Ye’ve got t’ help me with th’ work, fer I’m goin’t’ set bread.”
Dan did not reply, and to the questions from the hired men, who asked them when Mrs. Savage was out of the room, he told as little as possible of the bull incident.
“Never mind,” consoled Jonas Hannock, one of the men, as he finished his piece of apple pie, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Never mind, Dan. Bad luck can’t last forever,” for which little sympathy the boy was grateful.
He was tired, not only from his work on the farm, but from his chase after the bull, still he could not rest.
“Come now, git th’ dishes picked up,” called Mrs. Savage, before Dan was quite through. “Ye’ve been long enough. Ye might as well wash ’em too, while ye’re at it. I kin git more work done then.”
Of all the work about the farm or house Dan hated most of all doing the dishes, but there seemed to be no escape from it. With as good grace as possible he began at them, and he had about finished when Mrs. Savage exclaimed:
“There! I haven’t got a yeast cake, Dan; ye’ll have t’ go t’ th’ village an’ git one. Hurry too. Don’t stand gawpin’ along th’ road. Tell Mr. Lee t’ charge it.”
This seemed the last straw. After his hard day’s work to be forced to take a four mile walk before he could go to bed!
“Shall I saddle the horse?” he asked timidly, thinking of how much easier it would be to gallop in on the back of Bess.
“Saddle a hoss? Wa’ll, I guess not! Them hosses has done work enough fer one day.”
Dan thought he had also.
He started off on the errand, vainly wishing Mrs. Savage had discovered the need of a yeast cake when Mr. Savage drove to the village, as he could have brought it back with him. Still, after he was started, walking along the highway in the pleasant summer evening, some of Dan’s weariness left him.
As he neared the cross road, on which Dr. Maxwell lived, he heard some one walking on the hard highway.
“I wonder if that’s the doctor,” he thought. “No, it can’t be. He always rides.”
A few seconds later a man came into view. It was not very dark yet, and Dan easily recognized the stranger as the person who had asked him so many questions in the barn.
“Good evening,” said Dan.
“Oh, it is the corn-sheller boy,” remarked the stranger. “How are you? Did you finish all that corn?”
“Yes, but I’ve got just as much more to do to-morrow.”
“That’s too bad. You seem to have to work pretty hard.”
“Oh, well, I suppose all boys do.”
“Not all, nor all men either.”
“If you’re looking for Dr. Maxwell’s house, it’s right down that road.”
“What makes you think I am looking for his house?” and the man seemed annoyed.
“Well, you were asking about him—”
“That’s all right. I don’t want to see him. I just wanted to know where he lived, out of curiosity. But I’m in a hurry, so I’ll have to leave you,” and the man, who a moment ago seemed to have plenty of time, turned off in the other direction and hurried away.
“That’s queer,” thought Dan. “He acted as if he was mad because I told him where Dr. Maxwell lived. I wonder what he is doing in this neighborhood?”