He stopped there, as if he did not wish to say anything against her just then; but the mystery was getting deeper. There was no hole in the fence, nor any sign of his own cattle until they had nearly reached the cross-roads at the upper end of the pasture.
"There they are, father. All three of 'em. In the corner."
"Yes, my son. I see them. But how did they get there? They're in Mr. Gates's lot."
"Guess he or Mr. Hollenhouser's been up here and fixed the fence before we got home. Rube and Bun would have told them, sure."
"Of course they would. I never thought of that. I should have asked them about it before we came. I can't understand it exactly now."
There certainly was a mystery about it, and one that only Rube and Bun could have explained.
Early that morning the Deacon had roused himself out of bed, so as not to miss Rube and Bun when they let out their cows. He would not have trusted his new cow with any other boys in that neighborhood. They were up good and early too, and were just fairly out in the road, with two cows apiece, when Deacon Chittenden came along, and Bun's first remark was,
"That's his new cow. Hasn't she got a pair of horns, though!"
"She's a brindle. Wonder if she's a good milker?"
However that might be, they were quickly informed that she was an animal of uncommon value, and that they could have the privilege of driving her that morning.