"Where do you suppose they came from?" speculated Fred. "And why doesn't some one drive them to some place?"
"I read once that cows must not be hurried," Artie declared. "It makes them nervous, I think."
Polly laughed and Mr. Williamson frowned a little as he glanced back.
"There'll be a jam here, if something isn't done," he said. "More cars are coming in back of us. I think we'll have to do a little prospecting. The boys may come, but we'll let the girls cheer us on from their places in the car."
Mr. Williamson got out and the three boys tumbled eagerly after him. Even Margy, who did not generally envy boys, at that moment would gladly have exchanged places with her brother.
"They always have all the fun," Jess almost wept. "I can chase cows! I know I can!"
Mr. Williamson and the boys found half a dozen men, including Mr. Marley and Mr. Larue, trying to herd the cows down the road, the idea being that there must be a lane somewhere into which they could be turned.
"Of course we could jam a way through," said Mr. Marley. "But there is always the danger of hurting one of the animals. They've broken out of some pasture, of course—there must be a dairy farm in the neighborhood."
The poor cows were by now sadly frightened, and whatever sense they had had deserted them completely when the motorists on both sides of them began to blow their horns loudly. Whichever way the cows turned, there were champing, snorting machines and noisy horns to distract them.
"I agree with Artie that cows should not be made nervous," said Mr. Williamson. "Ward, go around and ask every one please to stop blowing his horn. Fred and Artie, help me let down these bars. I think we can drive the cows in here."