“I am all right.” Harriet smiled faintly. Her cheeks were pale and her eyes large and bright. There were no other indications that she was disturbed at her succession of narrow escapes from the bull. “Poor Tommy, you lost your skirt, didn’t you?”
“Ye—eth. Oh, what thhall I do?”
“I guess you will have to finish the day’s hike in your petticoat,” answered Miss Elting. “However, from present indications it will be dark by the time we get away from here. Besides your petticoat is black and will easily pass for an outside skirt.”
“I can’t, I can’t,” wailed the girl. “I won’t go on thith way.”
“Don’t worry, Tommy. You may have my skirt. I don’t mind going without it at all. I have a black underskirt, so the absence of my outside skirt will hardly be noticed,” answered Harriet.
“I won’t. The naughty old bull. I want my own thkirt.”
“You won’t need it,” said Margery, speaking for the first time since she had been overcome with terror.
“Don’t you think they will go away?” questioned Hazel anxiously.
“Not so long as we are up here,” replied Harriet. “I know their kind pretty well. I was chased by one at grandfather’s farm two years ago. There is only one way to save yourself from them when they are angry—that is to keep out of their way. I think——”
“Oh, look! Look, girls!” cried Hazel in a tone of suppressed eagerness.