Mr. Trask had crossed the road and now was coming full tilt through the row of shocks. Jimmy, arms spread wide, threw himself forward to block the onrushing figure's path. He had a brief impression of a blurred shadow bowling toward him and passing through him while he struck out with his small fists ineffectually. Behind there was a ripping of cloth and a hoarse scream.
Stella came running to where Jimmy stood. Together they saw two shadows locked in an incredible embrace. Like a scythe raised aloft, Mr. Trask's knife swept downward in a wide arc and with a quick stroke cut off Mr. Maudsley's head. Mr. Maudsley's hat flew up, Mr. Maudsley's head rolled off, and a thin cry of triumph welled up and faded.
And then there was nothing, except that Mr. Trask was back on one side of the fence, and Mr. Maudsley was on the other, minus his head, of course.
"Gee!" said Stella.
"Golly!" said Jimmy. He ran over to pick up Mr. Maudsley's hat; Jimmy tried to put Mr. Maudsley's head back but somehow it wouldn't stick.
"We'll fix it in the morning," said Jimmy.
At the edge of the field Jimmy paused and caught his sister's arm anxiously. "You won't tell, Stella?"
"No of course not."
"Cross your heart...?"
"Cross my heart and hope to die."