“I was going to pull the calf out from under our car,” replied Jerry. “It—it fell there.”
“Humph! A likely story. I saw ye deliberately run down my calf-critter. You let it alone until I git some witnesses, an’ prove a case agin ye! Let it alone!”
“I guess it’s dead, anyhow,” said Ned in a low voice, as he stood beside Jerry.
“Deader than a lobster,” added Bob. “You must have hit it an awful poke, Jerry.”
“Keep quiet, can’t you?” urged Ned. “This skinflint of a farmer will hear you,” for the man was gazing at the trio of lads with angry eyes.
Noddy Nixon, with a look of triumphant gloating on his face, came forward, followed by Bill Berry. Professor Snodgrass, oblivious to everything save his favorite pursuit, was some distance down the road, using his net with energy.
“I didn’t hit it hard at all,” Jerry said. “The calf ran right across the road. Why I hardly struck it at all. I had the brakes on ready to stop, anyhow.”
“Don’t talk to me about brakes!” snapped the farmer. “Ye broke my calf’s neck, an’ it was a valuable critter. Don’t ye dare touch it till I git some witnesses, an’ prove a case on ye. I want damages, an’ heavy damages, too! I want witnesses.”
“We’ll be witnesses for you!” broke in Noddy eagerly. “It was entirely the fault of those fellows that your calf was killed, Mr.—er—Mr.—?” he paused suggestively.
“Sackett is my name—Ebenezer Sackett, of Tewkesbury Township,” supplied the farmer. “I live right over that way a short piece, jest below th’ hill. I was drivin’ my calf down the lane, when all to onct this rip-snortin’ ragin’ and tearin’ automobile comes along an’ kills him. I want damages, an’ heavy damages, too!”