"Thanks for the information. Me for Peter Beedy." He glanced downward. Sitting on his haunches and gazing upward with a wistful eye, Shep was licking his old chops. "If you will be good enough to call your dog away and keep a firm, restraining hand upon him, I'll hit the high spots between here and Mr. Beedy's domicile."
"As long as you're so completely lacking in sand," said she, "I'll collar Shep and hold him until you get a fair start. But let me warn you that if you succeed in getting Beedy's auto you'll certainly be pinched and fined if you're caught driving faster than eight miles an hour anywhere within the town limits."
"It's always necessary," was his retort, "first to catch your hare. If Beedy's bubble has any speed at all, somebody will be handed a laugh. When you give the word, I'll come down."
Now it chanced that neither of them had noticed the approach of Libby's bull, confined in that same pasture. The bull was ugly, and resentful of intrusion on its domain. And just as the girl placed one hand on the dog's collar the bull charged, with a snort and a bellow. The man on the limb shouted a warning. The girl screamed and dodged behind the tree. The dog, seeing the charging beast by accident, bounded lamely to meet him. And the bull, with one sweep of his horns, tossed the dog fifteen feet into the air.
The man in the tree was paralyzed with horror. The disastrous attempt of the dog to protect his mistress seemed to check the charging bull for barely a fraction of a second. With glaring eyes, the beast came on, dashing straight at the terrified girl.
"The fence!" shouted the man. "Run!"
Even as he uttered the words he realized what would happen if she attempted to obey. The infuriated beast would overtake her, toss her with its horns even as the old dog had been tossed, gore her, trample the life out of her delicate body. For the briefest fraction of time, he was sickened by the thought. Then he dropped from the tree directly in the path of the mad creature. As he dropped, he snatched the cap from his head. The instant his toes touched the turf, he sprang to one side. The bull missed him by a foot, and he struck the animal across the eyes with his cap.
It seemed like a feeble thing to do, but he had time for nothing else, and he hoped desperately to turn the attention of the beast from the girl; hoped somehow, by diverting the creature's fury to himself, to give her an opportunity to flee to safety beyond the fence.
The girl had circled round the tree, keeping it between herself and the bull. As the man struck the animal, the latter swerved and turned with amazing speed, surprised, perhaps, by the appearance of a second human being on the scene. The stranger waved his arms and shouted challengingly. The animal accepted the challenge promptly and charged at him.
"Oh!" gasped Miss Wiggin. "He'll be—killed!"
But, almost with the agility of a capeador, the young man again leaped aside at precisely the right moment to foil the beast. Again he struck with his cap, but this time it was impaled on one of the bull's horns and torn from his hand.
Without glancing round at the girl, he cried sharply, commandingly: "Run for the fence! I'll keep him busy till you are safe."
Bessie Wiggin ran, just as she was ordered to do, although she did not realize what she was doing until she had almost reached the fence. Too terrified to look back, she actually sailed over the barrier almost as a frightened deer might have done, scarcely touching the top rail, falling safe on the far side amid some bowlders and bushes, where
