TROUBLE WITH TURNER'S BULL
The hard scrubby looking red and yellow corn that Hiram had got from
Mr. Brown and tested so carefully, had planted a goodly patch of the
Sunnyside cornland. Mr. Bronson looked at some of it as Hiram filled
the two cylinders of the cornplanter, running several handfuls through
his hand.
"That's kind of scrubby looking stuff, Hiram," he observed doubtfully.
"I sent you up better looking seed."
"Yes, sir. Your seed certainly is well selected and graded," agreed the
youth. "But I am not going to plant it on this lowland; not much of it,
anyway. That big corn grows tall, I imagine, and takes plenty of time
to grow, doesn't it?"
"From a hundred and ten to a hundred and twenty days. But you are
planting plenty early."
"Yes. Only we may get frost on this lowland early in September. The
farmers about here tell me they do, some years. And June frosts, too,
once in a bad while. I am afraid, if we had a set-back in corn planting
in June, that long-growing variety of yours would get scarcely glazed
down here, before the September frost hit it. And it is not the sort of
corn I want for silage."
"I see. You always do have an answer ready, Hiram; and usually it's
a good one. Though, truth to tell, an early September frost here is
almost as unlikely as a July snow."
"Just the same," his young employee said, "this corn that you think is
so scrubby is due to make you a big crop. I am planting a specially
prepared strip on that far side toward Battick's for seed."
"No!"
"Yes, sir."
"But it isn't even pure breed, Hiram. There will be a dozen red ears to
the bushel, I am certain."
"Did you ever see a horse or a mule refuse a red ear of corn?"
laughed Hiram. "I don't ever remember of seeing smut on an ear that
turned out to be red--though that doesn't prove anything. And red ears
make just as good meal as yellow."
"I suppose you are right. But this looks like scrub."
"If it comes right, when it is cured you can knock a steer down with
an ear of it without knocking a kernel off the cob."
"That will be some corn, boy!" chuckled Mr. Bronson.
Hiram came up from the first raking of this seed corn patch at noontime
of this beautiful June day to find Miss Pringle and some of the younger
girls transforming the first floor of the new house at Sunnyside into
a ballroom. Busy as they were at this time on the farm, both Hiram and
Orrin gave the girls a helping hand during the afternoon.
The carpenters built a small platform at the back of the house for the
musicians. There was to be the piano brought over from Miss Pringle's,
a violin, and a horn. Mr. Bronson had sent up a lot of Japanese
lanterns, and these the boys strung as they were directed about the
big, open floor and overhead. Chairs and benches were brought from the
schoolhouse, half a mile or more away.
The veranda flooring had likewise been laid, and the carpenters had
built wide, rough steps by which the veranda could easily be reached.
The girls swept out all the shavings and other litter, and the
well-laid floor presented an attractive appearance to the eye of
anybody who was fond of dancing. Just as the place was pronounced
ready by Delia Pringle, and the girls and boys were retiring from the
cleanly swept floor, Adam Banks appeared at the back door and coolly
scrambled into the house.
"Let's see how it is laid," he said, grinning, and beginning to clog
clumsily with his heavy boots.
He had been walking in muddy places, and every step he took on the
clean boards rattled gravel and mud off his boots.
"You get out of here, Ad Banks," commanded Miss Pringle, starting after
him with broom and dust pan. "You are the biggest nuisance that ever
was."
"Aw, Delia, don't be harsh with a fellow," said Banks, grinning
broadly. "You going to promise me a dance to-night?"
"And you probably coming here half drunk!" announced the spinster,
frankly. "I guess not!" announced the spinster, frankly. "I guess not!
No indeed!"
"You'd better. You'll be a wall-flower enough, Delia--you know you
will."
At that Miss Pringle flushed very red and her eyes fairly snapped.
"If I never danced at all I wouldn't take on any such makeshift of a
man as you, Ad Banks! Get out of here!" she commanded, "shooing" him
with the broom.
He grappled with her, still laughing in his lubberly way, and wrenched
the broom from Miss Pringle's hands.
"Oh, Delia," he sing-songed, "how I love you! You're the prettiest
girl I know. Come on and give us a dance. No? Then I'll dance with the
broom," and he proceeded to do a grotesque dance over the clean floor
with the broomstick for a partner.
"Now just look at what you've done, Ad Banks!" cried Miss Pringle
almost in tears. "See that!"
Broken cakes of mud were scattered about the floor wherever the fellow
clogged while Miss Pringle looked on angrily.
"That fellow needs a good licking," Orrin Post said to Hiram, while the
girls loudly expressed their vexation at what Banks was doing.
Hiram had quite made up his mind not to begin any personal violence
with Adam Banks. The man had time and again sought to coax the young
farm manager into a fight.
Banks was half a head taller than Hiram and much bulkier in appearance.
He could easily have overcome Orrin, who was slight and still suffering
from the effects of the attack of measles.
But when Orrin leaped back upon the veranda and started to enter
the house, Hiram could not allow the matter to go farther without
interference. He would not see Orrin attack a man plainly so much
stronger than himself.
"Hold on!" the young farm manager commanded. "You stay out of this,"
and he caught the angry Orrin by the arm. "If anybody is going to make
Adam Banks walk French, it has to be me. Really, nobody else has a
right to throw him out, I presume, as I am the representative of the
owner of the farm."
"Hurry up and do something, then," growled Orrin. "I'm not going to
stand around and see Delia abused."
Hiram pushed ahead of his friend, and as Banks, still dodging and
laughing at Miss Pringle, gyrated nearer, Hiram stepped quickly
forward and seized him by his shirt collar and the waistband of his
trousers.
"Hi! Hey!" bawled Banks. "What are you trying to do?"
He dropped the broom. He struggled mightily to break away. But all he
could do was to kick and paw the air.
Hiram had him right on the tips of his toes, and propelled him across
the floor in a most undignified way and at great speed. Doubtless the
young fellow's success arose from the unexpectedness of his attack; but
Hiram was likewise very strong.
He shot Banks out of the front door of the new house, across the
veranda and down the steps, and thence across the front yard to the
road.
"Let me go! I'll kill you for this, Hi Strong!" Banks shouted.
Hiram made no verbal reply to this threat, but to the delight and with
the applause of the girls he flung Adam Banks from him with such force
that the fellow sprawled on hands and knees in the dust.
"There!" Hiram said. "I am sorry that I was obliged to do it; but I
_have_ had to and so the matter is settled. Mr. Bronson told me to put
you off the place and keep you off. I've done part of my duty--I've
thrown you off of Sunnyside. I'll do the rest of it just so sure as you
come loitering around here--I'll keep you off."
"You blamed fool!" sputtered Banks, "don't you dare touch me again."
"You step back on to the farm and see how quick I'll touch you."
Banks, after so emphatic an exhibition of Hiram's ability to handle
him, took it out in sputtering. He did not come back. But he threatened
dire vengeance as he stumbled away. The girls and the carpenters
working within sight approved of Hiram's exploit--so much so, indeed,
that the young fellow was glad to get out of the way for a while after
Banks had gone, and so escape their congratulations.
But after supper at six-thirty in the workmen's shack, Hiram Strong
was obliged to appear in front of the new house and meet people. What
he had done to Adam Banks, the neighborhood bully, seemed to have been
circulated by some method of grapevine telegraph, and Hiram realized
that those who did not speak to him about it showed that they had heard
the story by their curious smiles.
He was a newcomer, and naturally his neighbors were sizing him up. The
young farmer from the East expected they would be curious about him if
not actually doubtful.
The thing that soon began to make the deepest impression on the young
manager of Sunnyside was the number of automobiles that were arriving.
There were some horse-drawn buggies and carriages, but one after
another the more popular makes of motor-cars arrived at the farm until
there were more than fifty parked along the roadside.
The Bronson car came after the dancing had begun. Hiram ran out to
greet his employer and Lettie. The latter was dressed in the very
height of city fashion and when she came up to the dancing floor on
Hiram's arm the country girls fairly buzzed.
But in spite of Lettie's _outré_ style in dress, she was by no means
snobbish. She greeted everybody whom she knew with perfect freedom,
and she displayed no air of patronage. Hiram thought to himself that
Lettie Bronson had greatly improved during these past few months.
Miss Pringle, who had already danced once with Hiram and once with
Orrin, ran over to meet the daughter of the owner of Sunnyside Farm,
and her effusive greeting only made Lettie laugh.
"There is a whole flock of fellows here who will want to dance with
you, Lettie Bronson," the young-old girl declared. "You'll have a good
time here."
"Of course she will," said her escort, smiling.
"Hiram, first," declared Lettie, smiling up at her father's employee in
a way to make the young fellow's heart increase its beat. "I haven't
danced with him since we had our barn dance last corn husking at
Scoville. Remember, Hiram?"
"I should say I do," he agreed with warmth.
"And then I want to know Orrin Post. Does he dance, Hiram?"
"There he is now dancing with Miss Paulsen," said Hiram.
"Of course Orrin can dance," Miss Pringle joined in.
"You know Sister--or is it Cecilia?--is very much interested in this
Orrin Post, too," Lettie said to Hiram as they got into step with the
music. "I saw her and dear old Mrs. Atterson just the other day. You
will have to make good here at Sunnyside, Hiram Strong, or you will
disappoint Sister and Mrs. Atterson fearfully."
"I mean to succeed. I hope all my friends will root for me from the
side lines," laughed Hiram, yet with a certain wistful glance at his
partner.
"Of course we will," cried Lettie frankly. "And nobody will root any
louder than 'yours truly,' Hiram. Why! next to father I am sure nobody
can have your welfare more at heart than I."
Lettie said this with her very best grown-up air. But it pleased Hiram
a great deal. His interest in his employer's daughter was very deep and
very serious. Lettie Bronson was the most interesting girl he had ever
met.
The dancing floor was now well filled every time the orchestra
played, and the chairs and settees around the edge of the floor were
crowded. It was a lively scene, and the lanterns furnished all the
light necessary. At the openings for the windows that were not yet, of
course, framed in, men and boys who did not dance stood and talked or
smoked.
The crowd increased both on the floor and outside the new house. Now
and then Hiram went out to see what was going on. There was some
shouting and ribald laughter at a distance, but the rowdy element
seemed to keep away from the vicinity of the dance.
"I hear you finally took my advice about Ad Banks," Mr. Bronson said to
Hiram, chuckling, "and ran him off the place."
"Folks are making too much of it," the young fellow replied. "Hullo!
What is this coming?"
There was a wood road through the burned-over patch belonging to Miss
Pringle, and there was light enough from the moon and stars to show
Hiram and those who stood with him on the front porch of the new house
a crowd of men and boys approaching along this rough way.
"There's Ad Banks now!" exclaimed one man. "You are going to have
trouble with him, Bronson."
"Not me," declared the farm owner. "It's all in Hiram's hands, and I
have confidence that he can handle anything Banks can start."
Hiram had already started for the road. A sharp cry arose in front:
"Look out, there! That bull is as mad as he can be. Look out!"
A huge, plunging shape came out of the wood path with two men, or boys,
hanging on to the ropes hitched to the monster. The latter headed
right across the road and those in the way scattered like chaff before
a wind.
"That's Turner's bull!" shouted somebody behind Hiram. "He is as savage
as a lion."
At that the two men clinging to the maddened animal let go of the
ropes. With head down, and uttering a reverberating bellow, the
creature came toward the new house on the floor of which the girls and
boys were dancing.