CHAPTER II.
The Red Bull.
THE short cut which Reube was taking across the fields and marshes wascalculated to diminish by a good half mile the distance which separatedhim from his beloved boat. But it was a path beset with obstacles. WillCarter saw all these—the long strip of bog and alders at the foot ofthe upland; then the gluey stretch of “broad-leaf” marsh, passableenough at a later season, but now a mire with the spring rains; andbeyond, furrowing the firm levels of young timothy and clover, thewindings of a creek which he knew was, in most places, too wide to jump,and too deep to ford. With what breath he could spare—for his excitedcomrade was setting a terribly stiff pace—he spasmodically exclaimed,“We’d save time, Reube, by keeping to the road. We’ll be tangled up andstuck here the first thing we know; and the _Dido_ will be off on herown hook to seek the ruins of Carthage.”
But Reuben made no answer. He saw no obstacles. All he could see was thefar-off red stream, with the _Dido_, only a little way inside the lineof the dikes, veering gently and aimlessly from one green bank to theother, but steadily creeping seaward with the current. Well he knew howsoon, with the falling tide, this current would quicken its pace. Oncelet the _Dido_ get outside the creek, and he knew not what might happento her. She would certainly be off down the bay at a speed which itappalled him to think of.
And now, running in grim silence, Reube and Will drew near the foot ofthe uplands. Heavily, and with no waste of energy, they flung themselvesover a peculiarly massive rail fence, and entered a spacious pasture.The field was dotted with mossy hillocks and a few low spruce bushes,between which the grass grew short and thick. Two or three wide-armedmaple trees, standing far apart, relieved the vacancy of the slopingexpanse, which ended in a broad fringe of alder swamp, spreading itslabyrinth of black roots and bog holes a hundred yards out upon themarsh.
As they ran, threading their way among the bushes, and springing fromhillock to hillock, they heard an ominous grunting bellow on theirright, and turning sharply they saw a large dark-red bull stepping outfrom under the shade of a maple tree. The animal bellowed again, deep inhis throat; and running his horns into the nearest mound, tossed intothe air a little shower of turf and moss. This was an honest challenge,but our runners were in no mood to accept it.
“This seems to be his bullship’s private domain!” panted Will. “I wonderif he’s really as mad as he looks, or just bluffing?”
“No bluffing there!” muttered Reube, in a voice of anxious concern.“It’s Barnes’s bull, and he means every word of it! We’re in a muss, andwe’ve just got to run for all we’re worth. I wish we’d stuck to theroad!”
As he spoke the bull, seeing his challenge unanswered, charged like agreat red thunderbolt. The boys rose into a fine burst of speed; but erethey were halfway across the field Reube felt his legs and wind failing.He vowed inwardly that he would not, could not break down, and hewondered in his heart how Will was holding out. Will was a little ahead,being the lighter runner; but his pace was flagging, and the bull wasnow gaining upon them with dreadful rapidity. Under fair conditions thefierce and active animal could have given his rivals a hard race; butnow, fagged from their long run down the hill, they were no match forhim. He was not more than fifty feet behind them, when their course tookthem right under one of those spreading maples.
“No use!” gasped Will. “Up with you, Reube!” And springing desperatelyinto the air, he caught a branch and swung himself up into safety.
But Reube was not one who could change his purpose thus rapidly. “The_Dido_!” he groaned; and, pausing under the tree, he glancedirresolutely from the sea to his pursuer.
“Come up, quick!” yelled Will, his voice as sharp and inflexible as anax blade. Reube saw that there was no help for it. His eyes glared furyat his pursuer, as a tiger glares at the hunters when he reluctantlyretires before them, and he started to climb the tree. But hisstubbornness was all but fatal. He grasped at a branch, and, missing hishold, fell back. He repeated the attempt, this time more eagerly, butagain he would have missed and would have felt the bull’s horns pinninghim to the tree had it not been for Will’s readiness of action. Lockinghis legs between two branches, Will reached down, grasped his comradeunder the shoulders, and with a mighty effort swung him around to theother side of the trunk. The bull swerved slightly and shot past. Halfclimbing, half dragged up by Will, Reube found himself safe among thebranches ere the bull had checked its rush and returned to the attack.
“You saved me that time, Will,” said Reube, in a somewhat shaky voice,grasping his companion’s hand and wringing it hard. “But that was anawful grip of yours. I think every finger took a piece out of me!”
Will grinned inscrutably, and it flashed across Reube’s mind that theseverity of the grip had had some connection with his own obstinatedelay in seeking safety. But the next instant all else was forgotten inhis anxiety about the _Dido_, which was plainly visible through anopening in his leafy refuge. The boat had grounded for a moment on agrassy point, and now the quickening current wrenched her off again andcarried her with slow gyrations beyond the very last of the landingslips. Fifteen minutes more, at this rate, and she would be in the open.
“I can’t stand this, Will! I must try another dash,” he groaned.
Immediately beneath was the bull, snorting and bellowing, thrusting withhis great forehead against the trunk, and pawing the young turf soenergetically that it seems as if he aimed at uprooting the tree.
“All right, old man,” said Will. “Run right along now, and I’ll waithere for you. Or perhaps you will mount the gentle steed beneath us andride to your destination.”
To this Reube vouchsafed no answer. He sat silent on his branch,glowering across the marshes, and eating his heart in helpless wrath,while Will, stretched face downward across the limbs, eyed the bullpensively, and cudgeled his brains for a way out of the dilemma.
Suddenly he straightened himself with a radiant face, and exclaimed:
“I have it, Reube! We’ll trick his exasperated bullship and catch the_Dido_ yet!”
But while the words were yet on his lips the bull lifted his head high,gazed out across the field for a second or two, and then dashed off atthe same terrific gallop which had so nearly proved disastrous to ourheroes. He had seen a burly, red-shirted figure traversing the uppercorner of his field. It was seldom, indeed, that anyone other than hismaster, the only man he feared, presumed to enter the precincts of hissway, and here, in one morning, were three trespassers. The bull, blindwith rage, charged upon the red-shirted figure, and the red-shirtedfigure, after facing him for a few seconds, turned and fled for thefence.
“It’s John Paul! He’ll get away safe enough,” said Reube. “But what’syour plan?”
“Got a better one by this time, old man,” replied Will, dropping out ofthe tree—“just to cut while his bullship is otherwise engaged.” Andside by side the two sped on toward the shelter of the alders.
Before they got far the bull, having routed red-shirt and snorted at himloudly through the rails, turned, discovered their flight, and came oncemore thundering at their heels. But this time he had allowed his rivalstoo much handicap. Before he could get anywhere near them Will and Reubewere among the alders. Once there, the big red bull could not matchtheir speed. He floundered, foaming and grunting, through the shallowpools, and the deeper ones he had to skirt.
The boys, on the other hand, sprang lightly from root to hillock, fromhillock to elastic, reedy tuft, swinging across the pools on the long,bending stems of the alders, and soon leaving their persecutor farbehind. They reached the fence, vaulted it, emerged upon the open marsh,and there before them, still half a mile away, was the _Dido_, wheelinggracefully out from the mouth of the creek.
The bull swerved slightly and shot past.]