“Answer, dear; answer, I’m so hoarse. Cry as loud as you can.”
Harry did as told. It would hardly be heard fifty yards away, however.
But it had one effect. It roused Towsie Jock. All his wrath seemed at once to return, and he prepared once more to attack the tree.
“Towsie Jock, Towsie, Towsie!” sang the boy.
For the life of him he could not help it.
“Wow-ow-ow-wo-ah!” roared the bull.
That was a sound that could be heard for one good mile at least.
The three men advancing to the rescue heard it.
For the first time since he had left home the farmer-laird felt real dread and fear. In his imagination he could see the mangled bodies of his son and the governess, with the bull standing guard over them.
“Come on, men. Great heavens! I fear the worst now.”