"Put up your hands, both o' ye!" he exclaimed, waving the gun threateningly. "Ye be desprite scoundrels, I take it, an' I don't mean to gi'e ye any chance to treat me like ye done my dawg. Fifty dollars wouldn't buy that critter; an' like's not he won't never be any use arter this. I'm goin' to march ye both to the town lockup, right away. Don't ye move a hand, consarn ye!"
"Mr. Sweesey, how dare you? These boys are my friends!" and as she uttered these words; in an indignant voice, the girl stamped her little foot on the ground.
"Hey! what! oh! is thet you, Miss Alice? Sho! now, I never knowed ye, Miss," the old man stammered, looking toward the girl for the first time.
"I was coming to your house with an important paper my father asked me to hand you, when he heard me say I meant to take a long walk. I crossed this field to make a shortcut, as I've often done before. That terrible dog of yours was loose, although you have been warned against allowing it. And he would have attacked me, only that these brave boys came to my assistance. I shall tell my father about it, you can depend, sir."
All the bravado had vanished from the farmer by now. He seemed to fairly cringe before the girl. Afterwards the boys learned that there was good reason for this, since her father was Mayor Stephens, the richest man in Hazenhurst, and the farmer a tenant who was forever behind in his rents, and heavily in the debt of the owner of the place.
"I didn't mean to run 'em in, Miss Alice," he hastened to explain. "I was just a-tryin' to skeer 'em, ye know. I've had heaps o' trouble with boys from town, and in course I thought they was up to more o' their tricks. Tige broke loose this mornin'. But p'raps he got just what he orter hed from this brave boy. I'm orful glad he didn't bite ye, Miss. And I hopes ye won't complain to yer governor."
"I'll think it over, Mr. Sweesey," replied the girl, somewhat softened by his abject demeanor. "Here is the paper father wanted me to take to you. I think I'd better be going back to town after this. And I promise you I'll never again cross this field."
She turned her back on him, and looked toward the biplane.
"How wonderful that you should have come to my help in that way," she said.
"Well, the fact is, Miss Alice," remarked Andy, quick to catch the name used by the old farmer, "we were on our way to Hazenhurst, meaning to drop down on the commons and give your people over here a chance to see what a biplane looked like, while my cousin Frank Bird was making a few little changes in this new machine; when we happened to see the dog chasing after you. Then we dropped down in a big hurry; but fortunately no damage was done."