"Rosemary! Mother! Rich—Rich! Warren!" screamed poor Sarah, running as she had never run before, "Rich! Rich!"
It was Warren who heard her and reached her first. He had been working in the tomato field which was near the orchard and he had no horse to consider—Richard could not abandon Solomon in the middle of the cornfield. Warren ran in the direction of the cries and, leaping the dividing fence, came to the rescue. The ram stopped short as soon as he saw him and Sarah fled straight into Warren's protecting arms.
"There, there, you're all right—you couldn't run like that if you were hurt," he soothed her. "Don't cry, Sarah—see, here comes your Mother; you've frightened her. And Winnie, too! Look up and smile and wave your hand—don't let your mother be frightened, Sarah."
Mrs. Willis had heard Sarah's shrieks and now she was running across the field, Winnie imploring her to walk at every step.
"She isn't hurt!" called Warren, trying to relieve the mother's anxiety at once. "She's all right, Mrs. Willis."
And then Sarah gained her vocal powers of which, till this minute, she had been deprived. Fright and running had taken her breath and she almost choked with the effort to articulate. Lifted high in Warren's arms, the tears running down her face, Sarah managed to put her chief sorrow into words that reached her mother and Winnie half way across the pasture and Richard just breathlessly rounding the orchard.
"I lost my horse hairs!" screamed Sarah.