At his words Mr. Benton leaped to his feet, and for a moment seemed not to know what to say. It was very evident that he had never expected to see the boy again. Taking advantage of his embarrassment, Budd went on:
"I'm glad, too, to learn that the oxen reached home unharmed. I did my best to save them, though I nearly lost my own life doing so."
Before he could say more Mr. Benton broke angrily in upon him:
"But ye lost the cart, ye little rascal, an' I gin twenty-five dollers fer it at auction only las' fall; an' I'd like to know who's goin' to pay me fer that?"
"I can, if it is necessary," replied Budd, swelling with indignation; "but before I do it I shall want some one else's opinion about it other than your own. Though I may have been a little rash in undertaking to cross the roadbed while the tide was so high, I am in no other sense to blame, and I would like to see anyone else do better than I did under the circumstances;" and Budd rapidly described the trying ordeal through which he had passed.
"Hum!" remarked Mr. Benton, sneeringly, as the lad finished his story. "Ye were sca't to death at a little runnin' water. If ye'd stayed in the cart an' let the oxen alone, they'd have fetched ye an' the cart out all rite. 'Twas all yer own fault."
Budd's cheeks burned with resentment.
"It was not," he emphatically declared.
"Don't ye tell me I lie!" said Mr. Benton, savagely, picking up one of the handles of the cultivator that had been detached from the machine and lay upon the barn-floor near him.
"I am sure the oxen would have drowned had I not freed them from the cart," answered Budd, firmly, "and any reasonable person would tell you the same thing."