Buttercup just then gave a worse cough than ever, and her eyes rolled in her head as if she were giving up the ghost.
"I'd rather do it than see her choke to death!" cried the Bishop in despair.
"Then, by ginger, you can try it, sonny!" said Uncle Abner. "Now this time we'll tie her head up. Take it slow, and make a good job of it."
Accordingly they pried poor Buttercup's jaws open to put a wooden gag between them, tied her head up, and kept her as still as they could, while we women held the lanterns.
"Now, sonny, strip up your sleeve and reach as fur down 's you can! Wind your little fingers in among that green stuff stickin' up there that ain't hardly big enough to call green stuff, give it a twist, and pull for all you're worth. Land! what a skinny little pipe stem!"
The Bishop had stripped up his sleeve. It was a slender thing, his arm; but he had driven the red cow all summer, borne her tantrums, protected her from the consequences of her own obstinacy, taking (as he thought) a future owner's pride in her splendid flow of milk—grown to love her, in a word—and now she was choking to death. Love can put a deal of strength into a skinny little pipe-stem at such a time, and it was only a slender arm and hand that could have done the work.
Phil trembled with nervousness, but he made a dexterous and dashing entrance into the awful cavern of Buttercup's mouth; descended upon the tiny clump of green spills or spikes, wound his little fingers in among them as firmly as he could, and then gave a long, steady determined pull with all the strength in his body. That was not so much in itself, to be sure, but he borrowed a good deal more from some reserve quarter, the location of which nobody knows anything about, but upon which everybody draws in time of need.
Such a valiant pull you would never have expected of the Little Bishop. Such a pull that, to his own utter amazement, he suddenly found himself lying flat on his back on the barn floor, with a very slippery something in his hand, and a fair-sized but rather dilapidated turnip on the end of it.
"That's the business!" cried Moses.
"I could 'a' done it as easy as nothin' if my arm had been a leetle mite smaller," said Bill Jones.