Chapter 18

TO THE RESCUE

And then an unlooked-for actor appeared upon the scene; a boyish figure, supple and well built, sprang, as if miraculously, out of a dense clump of bushes, just beyond the terror-stricken girls.

With a ringing shout he darted straight in front of the infuriated brute, and flung his coat defiantly in its eyes. Angry and snorting, it tossed the coat aside and started after its tormentor.

The trembling girls, thus suddenly and unexpectedly rescued from their peril, found new anxiety for the safety of their brave deliverer.

With bated breath they watched him as, having succeeded in diverting the attention of the enemy, he half circled the field with the maddened creature in hot pursuit, so close at times that he felt its hot breath on his neck.

Always heading in one direction, toward the open gate of the pasture field, the boy led the race, and finally breathless and almost exhausted, he gained the goal.

Through the gate he ran and gave, as he cleared it, a sudden jump to one side, while the momentum of the bull carried it forward and beyond him. A moment later he stood in the friendly grass of the berry-patch, with the gate closed securely between him and the foe.

"It's Mark Griffin!" cried Ivy.

"Yes, I knew him at once," returned Alene.

The three girls clapped their hands joyfully, starting a round of applause. Soon from every part of the patch came cheers and shouts and whistling; a small boy, who perhaps was the cause of all the trouble, scrambled from a tree near the big gate with a whoop that would have startled an Indian brave. He ran across the field, picked up the coat from where it lay on the ground almost in ribbons, and returned it to its owner.

With a humorous glance at the crumpled and grass-stained object Mark flung it over his shoulder and, followed by the urchin and one or two other boys, started away from the field and was soon out of sight down the lane.

"He wouldn't wait a minute," explained Hugh apologetically, when he and Mat returned to the girls.

Ivy curled her lip.

"There's a great deal in the way things are asked," she said, and Hugh knew she was offended.

"Who wouldn't run away from a lot of girls ready to slobber over him with thanks and prayers?" said Mat with a broad grin.

"As if we would make him a courtesy and say, 'Thank you, sir, for saving my life!'" retorted Ivy.

Hugh busied himself picking up the tins and the upset buckets. He sympathized with Mark's dislike of a scene.

"Any of you fellows would have done the same if you had the chance," the latter had said.

"Did she expect us to bring a fellow by the coat collar to be thanked? Girls are queer, they always enjoy fussing and the limelight," concluded Hugh. He kept resolutely away from them.

"What's the matter with Hugh?" whispered Laura after a time.

"Why?"

"He seems kind o' grumpy."

Ivy picked out a monster berry and put it into her mouth.

"The wind's changing I guess! Boys are like weather-vanes, you never can tell what way they're going next!"

Laura smiled at the idea of comparing staid, dependable Hugh with anything so uncertain as a weather-vane.

Ivy kept on filling her tin cup and pretended not to pay any attention to her brother. She knew her uncalled-for, sarcastic remark had offended him. Had it been anyone else, she would have made ample apology, but it was only poor old Hugh--it was not necessary to trouble herself about him. He would "come round" after while, as he always