Jane soothed the child in a voice that was fast growing shaky with terror. “I mustn’t get scared and lose my head,” she argued with herself. “Father says that’s the worst thing you can do in danger. I must keep them back! Marian trusted me with Jilly–I must be brave!”
Turning resolutely she confronted the herd, yelling and waving till with great exertion she headed them about once more. This time she gained a couple of hundred yards before they followed. Jilly, peeping fearfully over her shoulder, gave her warning. When she looked back and saw those thirty pair of sharp horns turned again in their direction, the girl gave a sob of despair.
There was not another human being in sight.
24The soft, undulating green of the prairie seemed to sweep around them like a sea. Jane looked up into the warm, blue sky overhead and prayed out loud.
“O Lord, please keep them back. I’m doing the best I can, God, but–but–it’s so far to the fence! I truly am, Lord, and Jilly’s so little!” “Hi there, hi, hi! Yes, Jilly, yes, course Anjen’ll take care of you!”
Her panic-stricken tones were hardly reassuring, the child wailed louder, casting frightened glances at the steers, then burying her face on Jane’s shoulder. The cattle were approaching on the trot, their great bodies swinging and jostling beneath that thicket of horns as the animals in the rear pushed and crowded against the leaders. The steady thud of their hoofs seemed to shake the ground rhythmically. Jilly could hear even when she couldn’t see, and clung convulsively to Anjen with one arm while the other squeezed tight the chastened Huz. Chicken Little sent up a last petition, as gathering up her remaining shreds of courage, she charged once more.
“O God, please, please, help a little!”
She never knew exactly what happened after that. Jilly was past all control. She was screaming steadily but her anguished howls were almost providential for they helped out Jane’s weakening 25shouts. Again and again Jane turned the steers, her voice growing fainter and hoarser. The cattle seemed to gather impetus with each rush–the distance between them was fast lessening and the beasts became more and more unruly about going back. But in some miraculous way she kept them off until Mr. Benton, plowing in a field near the fence, was attracted by Jilly’s screams and rushed to their rescue. Driving away the steers, he lifted Jilly and Huz from Chicken Little’s aching arms, and took them all in to his wife to be comforted.
It was some little time before Chicken Little could give the Benton’s an intelligible account of what had excited the steers. Mr. Benton’s astonishment was unbounded.
“Well, Chicken Little, I’ll never say another word ’bout city folks being skeery. You ain’t so bad for a tenderfoot. How’d you know enough to face them that way instead of running? If you’d run they’d trampled you all into mince meat! Steers are the terablist critters!”