The old bull, very angry that the cows should see his discomfiture, was snorting and pawing the earth over in the meadow. David shivered and hid his eyes on the young man’s sleeve.
Joel, who hadn’t taken his gaze from the stranger, crowded up as closely as he could.
“Who are you, Mr. Man?” he demanded.
“Didn’t you ever hear of a fellow who tried to rob the store in Badgertown?” asked the stranger, fixing his keen eyes on him.
Joel tumbled back, “Are you the burglar?”
“He didn’t take anything,” cried Davie hastily.
“Good reason why. This little chap wouldn’t let me,” said the young man. Then he laughed.
“And you—you jumped in front of the bull,” gasped Joel.
“That was easy enough,” said the young man. “I couldn’t have this little chap hurt. He was good to me, and didn’t want me to be hurt.”
“I think you are a good burglar, Mr. Man,” said Joel, crowding up closely. “I said I’d have smashed you if I’d been there in the store—but I don’t want to now.”