“Butt him, Dewey!” yelled the ragamuffins.
But Neale delivered a hearty kick that resounded upon the ram’s ribs. With another blat the beast switched around, lowered his head, and charged directly at the ugly man.
“Git out, ye derned nuisance!” yelled the fellow, and only by leaping high and spreading wide his legs did he escape the ram’s furious charge.
Missing his object, the ram kept on across the field and, whooping, the rag-and-bobtail crew strung along after him. The man remained to bluster and threaten Neale for a while; but the boy from Milton paid very little attention to him.
“Let’s go! Let’s go!” Agnes kept saying, and the little girls, thoroughly frightened, kept urging the same thing.
But when they got down into the ravine again, and the ugly man was out of sight, Agnes sent the trio of little folks ahead, and said to Neale:
“Do you know, Neale, who that horrid man was?”
“Huh?” grunted Neale, puzzled.
“Didn’t you see who he was when he stood right there before you?”
“Er—‘Hawkshaw, the detective’!” scoffed Neale, grinning widely.