“She’s a little scared at us, that’s all,” said Martin; “she’ll get used to the sight of us pretty soon.”
"After she’s made the water muddy and spoiled the fishing," said Sidney, in an ill-natured tone.
Martin took off his shoes and stockings, rolled up his trousers, and waded slowly across the brook towards the herd of cattle, holding out his hand and speaking to one or two of the animals by name, in a coaxing, petting way:
“Come here, Spotty,—come here, good little White Sue,—come here, my poor old Duchess!”
The cows stood and looked at him, very quietly. The one he called Sue, was small, and entirely white, with the exception of a bright red star on her forehead; she was a very pretty creature. She seemed to remember having seen Martin before, for presently she marched slowly up to him and sniffed his hand, while staring at him from head to foot. The boy scratched her ears, as he had often done before upon passing Mr. Bradish’s barnyard; she appeared to be pleased, and rubbed her head against his shoulder.
“Softly, there, Susie,” said Martin; “I don’t like that. That’s my Sunday go-to-meeting coat.”
He stepped back as he spoke, and the abrupt movement alarmed the whole troop. White Sue gave a loud bellow, and dashed abruptly across the stream into the woods on the other side,—her companions hurriedly following, splashing the water over themselves and their calves as they did so.
Sidney Harrow dropped his pole, and with a half-shriek, ran in the opposite direction, towards the picnic ground.
As the fishing at that place was now over, on account of the disturbance of the water, Martin told the boys they had better join the rest of the party; so they gathered up the fish and bait, and left the spot, Martin carrying the rod of the brave sailor in addition to his own.