“A Bungwood cow!” I exclaimed.
“An imported breed,” said he, “and the best in the world. They're frisky and a little dangerous.”
That seemed to me rather curious, but, then, I did not know much about cows. It was a greater compliment than I had ever received—the invitation of this imperial and heroic figure; but I concealed my joy with a look of calmness.
“When are you coming back?” I inquired.
The jaunty fellow crossed the floor, rattling his change and singing, “Oh, we won't go home till morning!” He turned quickly and said, with a sober face: “I'll get ye here in good season. Tell 'em you're going to stay with a friend, an' will be back in the morning.”
I lied about it, for I knew that Mr. Weatherby had no high opinion of Bony Squares, and got permission to go.
At seven o'clock that evening I set out for the corner below Mill Pond, where Bony, with a horse and a buckboard, was to wait for me. There he was, and away we went; and the horse's hoofs beat time for a lively ditty sung by my new friend. The chill night fell, and a sense of sadness and regret was in me. To what place he drove, or how long it took him to get there, I know not even now. After a long time I fell asleep. A rude shake and the light of a lantern awoke me. I got out of the buggy in a shed back of a little church.
“Now for a boat-ride,” said my companion; “then a short drive, and we'll be on our way home again.”
“Where you going?”
“After the cow, of course.”