“Here on the marsh, two miles from the skirt of the uplands, perhaps half a mile from the nearest incurve of the dike, on a twisted, sweet-smelling bed of purple vetch, I lay pretending to read, and deliciously dreaming. My bed of vetch sloped gently toward the sun, being on the bank of a little winding creek which idled through the long grasses on its way to the Tantramar. Once a tidal stream, the creek had been brought into subjection by what the country people call a ‘bito,’ built across its mouth to shut out the tides; and now it was little more than a rivulet at the bottom of the deep gash which it had cut for itself through the flats in its days of freedom. From my resting-place I could see in the distance a marsh-hawk noiselessly skimming the tops of the grass, peering for field-mice; or a white gull wandering aimlessly in from the sea. Beyond the dike rose the gaunt skeletons of three or four empty net-reels; and a little way off towards the uplands stood an old barn used for storing hay.
“Beside me among the vetch-blossoms, hummed about by the great bumblebees and flickered over by white and yellow butterflies, lay my faithful leaping-pole,—a straight young spruce trimmed and peeled, light and white and tough. Some years before, fired by reading in Hereward of the feats of ‘Wulfric the Heron,’ I had bent myself to learn to leap with the pole, and had become no less skilful in the exercise than eagerly devoted thereto. It gave me, indeed, a most fascinating sense of freedom. Ditches, dikes, and fences were of small concern to me, and I went craning it over the country like a huge meadow-hen.
“On this particular afternoon, which I am not likely soon to forget, when the bobolinks had hushed for so long that the whispering stillness grew oppressive, I became ashamed of the weird apprehension which kept stealing across me; and springing to my feet with a shout, I seized my leaping-pole, and went sailing over the creek hilariously. It was a good leap, and I contemplated the distance with satisfaction, marred only by the fact that I had no spectators.
“Then I shouted again, from full lungs; and turning instinctively for applause toward the far-off uplands, I became aware that I was not so much alone as I had fancied.
“From behind the old barn, at the sound of my voice, appeared a head and shoulders which I recognized, and at the sight of which my satisfaction vanished. They belonged to Atkinson’s bull, a notoriously dangerous brute, which only the week before had gored a man fatally, and which had thereupon been shut up and condemned to the knife. As was evident, he had broken out of his pen, and wandering hither to the marshes, had been luxuriating in such plenty of clover as well might have rendered him mild-mannered. I thought of this for a moment; but the faint hope—it was very faint—was at once and emphatically dispelled.
“Slowly, and with an ugly bellow, he walked his whole black-and-white length into view, took a survey of the situation, and then, after a moment’s pawing, and some insulting challenges which I did not feel in a position to accept, he launched himself toward me with a sort of horrid grunt.
“After the first chill I had quite recovered my nerve, and realized at once that my chances lay altogether in my pole.
“The creek was in many places too wide for me to jump it in a clear leap from brink to brink of the gully, but at other points it was well within my powers. To the bull, however, I perceived that it would be at all points a serious obstacle, only to be passed by clambering first down and then up the steep sides.
“Without waiting for close parley with my assailant, I took a short run, and placed myself once more amongst the vetch-blossoms whence I had started. I had but time to cast my eye along, and notice that about a stone’s throw farther down, toward the dike, the creek narrowed somewhat so as to afford me an easier leap, when the hot brute reached the edge opposite, and, unable to check himself, plunged headlong into the gully.
“As he rolled and snorted in the water I could scarcely help laughing; but my triumph was not for long. The overthrow seemed to sting him into tenfold fury. With a nimbleness that appalled me he charged straight up the bank, and barely had I taken to my heels ere he had reached the top and was after me. So close was he that I failed to make the point aimed at. I was forced to leap desperately, and under such disadvantage that only by a hair’s-breadth did I gain the opposite side. Somewhat shaken by the effort, I ran on straightway to where I could command a less trying jump.