“Wal, ye don’t say! Here! run ’em into the brook, ’Mandy, ’n I’ll stop ’em thar.”
’Mandy—otherwise Mrs. Hecker—waved her blue banner and cried “Whoa!” “Whoa!” in shrill soprano, heading the oxen off, as they came plunging down the hill. At the sight of ’Mandy and her apron, they sheered off into the side-track through the brook; but there stood ’Gustus John, with a big stick and outstretched arms, barring their way, and shouting tremendous “Whoas!” in familiar tones.
Whether the oxen were tired with their unusual exercise, or whether they simply concluded it was time to stop, I do not know, but Judge and Captain brought up as suddenly as they had started, and, with quivering sides and tossing heads, they stood stock-still in the brook.
In a moment poor little dirty Kenneth was in ’Mandy’s motherly arms, and shortly after the whole excited group were gathered on the bridge.
“Nice-lookin’ passel of young uns you air,” commented ’Mandy. “I do vum! ef you children don’t beat the Dutch. Like as not them oxen would have run into the brook anyway and upsot the cart, ef I hadn’t hev ben here, and this little chap would hev ben drownded, sure.”
“Them children’s regular Jonahses,” grumbled Thomas, in short gasps for breath. “Never takes ’em nowhere thet suthin doesn’t happen onto some on ’em. I never see oxen run away but once before, and there ain’t no stoppin’ ’em.”
“Wonder is that they hain’t all killed,” said ’Gustus John. “It’s a real meracle that this ’ere little chap didn’t git his head broke with thet ’ere bar’l, a-rollin’ round like a pea in a pod.”
“Yer ma ’n’ yer pa ’n’ ’Liza hes all ben down here, a-lookin’ fur yer everywhere,” said Mrs. Hecker. “It’s past seven, an’ they thought you was lost, sure. Here they be, now;” and down the road came an excited group of house-people.
“Oh, where have you been, you naughty, naughty children!” cried mamma, hurrying on ahead. “We have been so frightened about you.”
Papa took Kenneth from ’Mandy’s arms and held him up.