“To this sentiment the steer bellowed his adherence. The leader of the wheelmen, however, glancing around at the encouraging countenances of his party, drew a small revolver from his hip pocket.
“‘Don’t you think,’ he said, addressing Landry, ‘we ought to shoot this beast? He is blocking the highway, and he is a menace to all passers-by.’
“The astute Landry meditated for a moment.
“‘What might be your name, sare?’ he inquired.
“‘My name’s Vroot—Walter Vroot of Halifax,’ replied the wheelman.
“‘Eef you shoot ze steer, sare, Squire Bateman he make you pay for ’eem, sure,’ said Landry.
“At this there arose a chorus of indignation led by the discomfited one. But Mr. Vroot turned on his heel, thrusting his revolver back into his pocket.
“‘Perhaps,’ said he to Landry, ‘you’ll be so good as to bring the bicycle into Kentville with you when you come.’
“‘Sare,’ said Landry, ‘’ow is dat posseeble? I go in to Kentville right now to look after my ’orse.’
“In a few minutes the wheelmen had vanished in a slender and gleaming line, Landry and the wheelless one (whose name, by the way, was Smith) were tramping dejectedly townward, and the steer was left in absolute possession of the cart, the wheel, and a portion of the Queen’s highway.