“Oh! Oh!” screamed Jan.
“Good land!” cried Grandpa Martin. “The boy will be hurt!”
But Teddy was a lucky little boy. Instead of falling on the iron-shod feet of the horse, he just missed them and rolled into a little pile of hay. But the horse kept on going, and the next Ted knew, he was being rolled along, over and over in a bundle of the dried grass.
For the curved teeth of the big rake were pulling him along, together with a bundle of the hay, and he was so wrapped up in it, like a Christmas doll in a package of straw or excelsior, that Teddy was not even scratched, though the ends of the hay did tickle him and make him sneeze.
“Whoa, there! Whoa!” cried the hired man in a loud voice. At the same time he ran forward and caught hold of the reins. This stopped the horse, and when the man and Grandpa Martin raised the teeth of the rake, and pulled apart the bundle of hay, there was Ted inside it. He looked frightened.
“Oh, Ted! Teddy!” gasped Jan, running up to him.
“Are you hurt?” asked one of the men.
“I guess not,” Ted slowly answered, as he stood up. “I didn’t mean to do it,” he added, looking at his grandfather.
“I should hope you didn’t! But don’t dare get up on that rake again!”
“Not even when there isn’t a horse hitched to it?” asked Ted.