Hon. Mrs Dilk spread down tablecloth of Turkish redness & make him look
good housekeeping by putting plates, pickles, ham & saucers on him.
“It are going to rain!” report all together like chorus girls.
“I are to blame for that also,” I acknowledge.
All seem pleased to hear my crime, yet no intellectual reply.
By wet water of runnybrook, Frederick & Ederick was playing Indian by
using Mrs Dilk’s 2 yrs. old baby for a prisoner. Pretty soonly, they
dropped Hon. Baby in wet water to see how well he float. He did not do
so, thank you; therefore I must plunge myself in and remove Baby out.
He notice my chivalry by angry howells.
“I have saved your Baby from a watery tombstone,” I report to Mrs Dilk.
“Could you not save him without wetting his feet so seriously?” she ask
out crankerously.
“Next time he drowns, he should carry an umberella!” I snuggest, while
poking potatus in fire where they would burn better.
Hon. Sky now look very sorry like he expect rain. Yet not yet. Lunching
were nearly most prepared. Ethel & Albert were enjoying disagreeable
love-talk, Hon. Snow & Hon. Dilk was drinking appetite from bottel,
Frederick & Ederick was weeping as usual--when Oh!!!! Hon. Mrs Dilk
come hop-jump over hill and make following explanation:
“Bull! Bull!!”
We could hear somebody talking moo-language slightly off in distance.
“Who shall save us?” require Hon. Snow, picking up Ed. & Fred. (twins)
while Hon. Mrs Dilk obtained Baby.
Looking over the eyebrow of the hill, I observe one fatherly cow
enjoying salad of daisy-cup blossoms. He seemed to be a smiling cattle
of Tammany Hall nature.
“Togo,” require Hon. Snow with militia expression, “you go scare Hon.
Bull offwards while me & Mr Dilk bravely save wives & children.”
They all began walking backwards to fence 86 feet away. That Hon. Bull
appear very civilized, so I was sure he would go away by request. I
had read in news-print, somewheres, that bulls are afraid of red rags;
therefore, I took up that reddy tablecloth and approach close by his
nose making waves with it.
“Shoo!” I repeat like a toreador.
All folks, while running, yell, “Don’t do! Don’t do!” but I was too
busy scaring bulls to make notice of them.
All suddenly, Hon. Bull look upwards & observe my antix. He must of
been extra brave, because that red rag did not scare him slightly.
Snores of rage from him. He begin pawing grass with finger-nails.
Loudly bellus by him. Then--O rush!! He elevated his horns downwards
and make gollup for me.
When I see how ambitious he look, I did one great heroism: I continued
to wave red rag & rush towards them picnic folks so I could be there to
protect them when Hon. Bull begin to hook. They was 48 feet ahead of
me, but me & Hon. Bull run very fast. I keep ahead, because he stop to
swear two or three times. We reached Hon. Fence together, just as Hon.
Snow & Hon. Dilk was getting over with armful of family.
Roars!! That grand-square animal kicked me with horns so skilfully that
I made airship movement & come down on fence just in time to help Hon.
Dilk & family fall over. Yet they was thankless. Everybody was on other
side by that time. You would think they should be happy to see me light
among them--yet not.
Hon. Bull spent 36 minutes making angry promenades up & down fence
talking oratory in cow language. Then he go back to where Hon. Lunch
was & spent rest of afternoon kicking it into river with horns.
Hon. Sky begin to rain & them (2) twins made it wetter by weeps. All
wish to go homewards, but that was umpossible, because Hon. Ottomobile
were in field next to where Hon. Bull were setting down.
At 7:26 p. m. time, Hon. Farmer come along with moustache under chin &
offer to coax off Bull, price $5.
“He are harmless,” interrogate Hon. Farmer.
“I know it,” report Hon. Snow. “He merely chased us to tell us so.”
We all got into car, pretty soonly, and start homewards amidst
considerable drips and shipwrecked feelings of stumach.
“Shakspeare never wrote nothing so tragic like to-day,” glub Hon. Snow.
“Dearie, when you see Nature, you must take him like he comes,”
snuggest Hon. Mrs.
“He’ll have to come to my house, next time I see him,” he dib.
When we arrive up to R. R. station, I was surprised: Hon. Snow stop
ottomobile.
“Togo,” he say so, “This are where you get off.”
“You wish me depart homeless?” I snagger.
“Since you are so smart at flagging bulls,” he resnort, “maybe you
can wave red rags at engineer and tell him take you some place where
picnics is unknown & brains unnecessary.”
Speaking thusly, Hon. Ottomobile depart away full of honks.
Hoping you are the same,
Yours truly,
_Hashimura Togo_.