The young man burst into a hearty laugh.
“I could have done it,” said Joel, very much nettled at the laugh—and he doubled up his small fists.
“Oh, I dare say,” said the young man, wiping his eyes. Then he saw Joel’s face.
“Well, you have got a pair of fists, to be sure!” he declared admiringly.
Joel spread his little brown hands, then doubled them up again and flirted them in the air, very much pleased.
“Yes, indeed,” said the young man. “Well now, don’t use them any more than you can help. Good luck to you, little chap,” he turned to David, and was gone down the road.
“I wish he hadn’t gone,” mourned David, looking after him. “Perhaps he would have come with us to Mamsie.”
That made Joel think of the two fish-poles and the big fish. “I must get them,” he said, springing up. Just then down the road that he had struck from the wood-path came Ezekiel, who didn’t find it so pleasant, after all, being alone. He was carrying all the things, even the tin can that had one worm in it.
Peletiah, long before this at the parsonage, was sitting on the back steps. Having run every step of the way home, a thing he couldn’t remember ever doing in his life before, he still sat thinking it all over. It didn’t seem quite so nice a thing to do, to carry the tale into the parson’s study, as at first it had appeared to him. And when he thought of the bull, as Joel’s cry had warned him, he ducked his head down between his arms. And although he had seen the young man save the situation, he couldn’t forget Joel waving his arms, and telling him to “run for the fence.”
Joel was occupied for the next few hours after reaching the little brown house and the story all through with, in pretending he was the bull and dashing after imaginary persons; and then when tired of that, he said he was going to be the burglar.