GIRAFFE ADMITS THAT THE SHOE FITS.
"Look out, Bumpus!" shrieked Davy Jones, as though instantly realizing
what a perilous position the stout scout would be in if that angry cow
succeeded in bowling him over with her hornless head.
"Run! run, Bumpus; a wild bull is after you!" shouted Step Hen, who may
have really believed what he was saying with such a vim; or else
considered that by magnifying the danger he might add more or less to the
sprinting ability of the said Bumpus.
There was really little need to send all these warnings pealing over the
field, because Bumpus had already glimpsed the oncoming enemy, and was in
full flight.
At the moment of discovery he chanced to be fully two-thirds of the way
over to the tree which had been the special object of his attention. It
was therefore much easier for him to reach this haven of refuge than it
would have been to dash for the fence with any hope of making that
barrier.
"Go it, Bumpus, I'll bet on you!" howled Giraffe, jumping up on the fence
in his great excitement, so that he might not miss seeing anything of the
amusing affair.
Now, possibly, the angry cow that had been bereft of her beloved calf by
a late visit of the butcher might have readily overhauled poor Bumpus had
she kept straight on without a stop, for she could cover two yards to his
one. For some reason which only a cow or bull could understand, the
animal seemed to consider it absolutely necessary that with every few
paces she must come to a halt and paw the ground again, sending the earth
flying about her.
That gave the stout runner his chance, and so he succeeded in gaining the
tree, with his four-footed enemy still a little distance away.
Bumpus was evidently unnerved. He had seen that terrifying spectacle
several times as he looked anxiously over his fat shoulder, and it had
always caused him to put on an additional spurt.
When finally he banged up against the tree, having of course stumbled as
usual, his one idea was to climb with lightning speed. His agreement with
the scheming Giraffe called for an ascent in sixty seconds, but he now
had good reason for desiring to shorten this limit exceedingly. He
doubtless imagined that he would feel the crash of that butting head
against his person before he had ascended five feet, and this completely
rattled him.
Left to himself and possibly he could have climbed the smooth trunk
within the limit of time specified in his arrangement with Giraffe; but
such was his excitement now that he made a sorry mess of it.
The boys were shrieking all sorts of instructions to him to "hurry up,"
or he was bound to become a victim; one was begging him with tears in his
eyes to "get a move on him!" while another warned Bumpus of the near
approach of the oncoming cow, and also the fact that she had "fire in her
eyes!"
Twice did the scout manage to get part way up, when in his tremendous
excitement he lost his grip, and in consequence slipped down again, amid
a chorus of hollow groans from the watchers beyond the fence.
The avenging cow was now close up, and still enjoying the situation, as
was evidenced by the way she made the earth fly. She could be heard
giving a series of strange moaning sounds peculiarly terrifying; at least
Bumpus evidently thought so, for after his second fall he just sat there,
and stared at the oncoming enemy as if he had actually lost his wits.
"Get behind the tree, Bumpus!"
That was Thad shouting, and using both his hands in lieu of any better
megaphone. Now, since Thad had always been the leader of the patrol ever
since its formation, Bumpus was quite accustomed to obeying any order
which the other might give. Doubtless, he recognized the accustomed
authority in those tones; at any rate, it was noticed that he once more
began to make a move, struggling to his feet in his usual clumsy way.
"Oh! he just missed getting struck!" ejaculated Smithy, as they saw
Bumpus move around the tree, and heard a loud crash when the head of the
charging cow smashed against the covering object.
The animal was apparently somewhat stunned by the contact, for she stood
there, looking a little "groggy," as Giraffe called it. Had Bumpus known
enough to remain perfectly still, and allow the tree to shelter him the
best it could, all might have gone well; but something that may have been
boyish curiosity impelled the fat scout to thrust out his head. Why, he
had so far recovered from his fright, thanks to the substantial aid of
that tree-trunk, that he actually put his fingers to his nose, and
wiggled them at the cow!
She must have seen him do it, and immediately resented the implied
insult; for all of a sudden she was seen to be in motion again. There was
a flash of dun-colored sides, and around the tree the cow sped, chasing
Bumpus ahead of her.
Of course the scout did not have to cover as much ground as the animal,
but the fact must be remembered that he was a very clumsy fellow, and apt
to trip over his own feet when excited, so that the danger of his falling
a victim to the rage of the mother cow was as acute as ever, despite the
sheltering tree.
Giraffe seemed to be enjoying the game immensely. He sat there, perched
on the rail fence, and clapped his hands with glee, while shouting all
manner of brotherly advice at Bumpus. This of course fell on deaf ears,
because just then the imperiled scout could think of only one thing at a
time, and that was to keep out of reach of that battering ram.
Thad knew that something must be done to help Bumpus, who if left to his
own resources never would be able to extricate himself from the bad fix
into which he had stumbled, thanks to that love of a joke on the part of
Giraffe, and his own blindness.
"Hi, there, Bumpus, she thinks you look like the butcher that took her
calf away, that's what's the matter!" cried Step Hen.
"Pity you ain't a cow puncher, Bumpus," Giraffe went on to say; "because
then you could throw that poor thing easy. Huh! think I could do it with
one hand!"
"Then suppose you get off that fence and do it!" said Thad severely. "You
got poor old Bumpus in that hole, and it ought to be your business to
rescue him!"
Giraffe looked dubious. When he spoke so confidently about believing
himself able to down the raging cow he certainly could not have meant it.
"Oh! he ain't going to get hurt, Thad," he started to say; "if I saw him
knocked down, course I'd jump and run to help him. The exercise ought to
do Bumpus good, for he's been putting on too much flesh lately, you know.
You'll have to excuse me, Thad, sure you will. I'll go if things look bad
for him; but I hate to break up the game now by interfering."
Thad paid no more attention to Giraffe, since he knew that the other's
inordinate love for practical joking made him blind to facts that as a
true scout he should have kept before his mind.
"Hello! Bumpus!" the patrol leader once more shouted.
"Yes--T-had, what is it?" came back in a wheezy voice, for to tell the
truth Bumpus was getting pretty well winded by now, thanks to the rapid
manner in which he had to navigate around that tree again, with the
active bovine in pursuit.
"Take off that red bandanna from your neck, and put it in your pocket!"
ordered the patrol leader.
Strange to say no one else--saving possibly the artful Giraffe--had once
considered this glaring fact, that much of the cow's anger was excited by
seeing the hated color so prominently displayed by the boy who had
invaded the pasture at such an unfortunate time in her life of frequent
bereavements.
Taking it for granted that Bumpus would obey the first chance he got to
unfasten the knot by which his big bandanna was secured around his neck,
Thad clambered over the fence and started to run.
He did not head directly for the tree around which this exciting chase
was being carried on, but obliquely. In doing this Thad had several
reasons, no doubt. First of all he was more apt to catch the attention of
the angry cow, for he was waving his own red handkerchief wildly as he
ran, and doing everything else in his power to attract notice. Then, if
he did succeed in luring the animal toward him he would be taking her
away from the tree at such an angle that when Bumpus headed for the spot
where his other chums were gathered the cow would not be apt to see him
in motion and give chase.
Thad knew how to work the thing nicely. He succeeded in attracting the
attention of the cow, for he saw her stop in her pursuit of Bumpus, and
start to pawing the turf again.
"She's coming, Thad!" roared Allan.
As he spoke the cow started on a full run for the new enemy. That
flaunting red rag bade her defiance, apparently, and no respectable
bovine could refuse to accept such a gage of battle.
Thad had not gone far away from the fence at any time. He was not
hankering to play the part of a bull-baiter, and run the chance of being
tossed high in the air, or butted into the ground.
He had, like a wise general, also marked out the way of retreat, and when
the onrushing animal was fully started, so that there seemed to be little
likelihood of her stopping short of the fence, Thad nimbly darted along,
and just at the proper time he was seen to make a flying leap that landed
him on the top rail, from which he instantly dropped to the ground.
He continued to flaunt the red handkerchief as close to the nose of the
cow as he could, so as to hold her attention; while she butted the fence
again and again, as only an angry and baffled beast might.
Thad was meanwhile again shouting his directions to the dazed Bumpus,
who, winded by his recent tremendous exertions, had actually sunk down at
the base of the friendly tree as though exhausted.
"Get moving, Bumpus!" was what the patrol leader told him. "Back away,
and try to keep the tree between the cow and yourself all you can. Don't
waste a single minute, because she may break away from me, and hunt you
up again! Get a move on you, Bumpus, do you hear?"
Finally aroused to a consciousness of the fact that he was not yet "out
of the woods" so long as no fence separated him from that fighting cow,
Bumpus started in to obey the directions given by the leader of the
Silver Fox Patrol.
It was no difficult matter to back away, keeping in a line that would
allow the tree to cover him, and the fat scout in this manner drew
steadily closer to where his comrades awaited him.
He was near the fence when the cow must have discovered him again, for
the first thing Bumpus knew he heard Davy shrieking madly.
"Run like everything, Bumpus! Whoop! here she comes, licketty-split after
you! To the fence, and we'll help you over, Bumpus! Come on! Come on!"
Which Bumpus was of course doing the best he knew how, not even daring to
look over his shoulder for fear of being petrified by the awful sight of
that "monster" charging after him, and appearing ten times as big as she
really was.
Arriving at the fence he found Davy and Giraffe awaiting him, for the
latter, possibly arriving at the repentant stage, had begun to realize
that a joke may often be very one-sided, and that "what is fun for the
boys is death to the frogs."
Assisted by their willing arms the almost breathless fat scout was
hustled over the fence. There was indeed little time to spare. Hardly had
Davy and Giraffe managed to follow after him, so that all three landed
beyond the barrier, when the baffled bovine arrived on the spot, to
bellow with rage as she realized that her intended prey had escaped for
good.
Bumpus was hardly able to breathe. He was fiery red in the face, and
quite wet with perspiration; but nevertheless he looked suspiciously at
Giraffe, as though a dim idea might be taking shape in that slow-moving
mind of his.
"Oh, no, Bumpus! You don't get that compass this time," asserted the tall
scout, shaking his head in the negative, while he grinned at Bumpus. "You
never climbed the tree at all, you know. Our little wager is off!"
"If I thought you knew--about that pesky cow, Giraffe--I'd consider that
you played me a low-down trick!" said Bumpus, between gasps.
Giraffe made no reply. Perhaps the enormity of his offense had begun to
trouble him, because Bumpus was such a good-natured fellow, with his
sunny blue eyes, and his willing disposition, that it really seemed a
shame to take advantage of his confiding nature. So Giraffe turned aside,
and amused himself by thrusting his hand, containing his own red
bandanna, through the openings between the rails of the fence, and
tempting the cow to butt at him, when, of course, he would adroitly
withdraw from reach in good time.
When Bumpus had fully recovered his breath, the march was resumed.
Giraffe loitered behind a bit. He knew from the signs that he was in for
what he called a "hauling over the coals" by the patrol leader, and fully
expected to see Thad drop back to join him. The sooner the unpleasant
episode was over with the better--that was Giraffe's way of looking at
it, and he was really inviting Thad to hurry up and get the scolding out
of his system.
Sure enough, presently Thad dropped back and joined him. Looking up out
of the tail of his eye, Giraffe saw that the other was observing him
severely. He fully expected to hear something unpleasant about the duty
one scout ought to assume toward his fellows. To his surprise Thad
started on another tack entirely.
"I want to tell you a little story I read the other day, Giraffe," he
said quietly, "and, if the shoe fits, you can put it on."
"All right, Thad; you know I like to hear stories first rate," mumbled
Giraffe, glad at least that the others of the party were far enough ahead
so that none of them could hear what passed between himself and the
patrol leader.
"I think," began Thad, "it was told to illustrate the old saying that
'curses, like chickens, come home to roost.' The lecturer went on to say
that when a boy throws a rubber ball against a wall it bounds back, and,
unless he is careful, it's apt to take him in the eye; and that's the way
everything we do comes back to us some time or other."
"Sure thing it does; and p'raps some day I expect Bumpus will be getting
one over on me to pay the score," admitted Giraffe; but Thad did not pay
any attention to what he said, only went on with his story.
"There was once a boy, a thoughtless boy, with a little cruel streak in
his make-up, who always wanted to find a chance for a good laugh, without
thinking of what pain he might be causing others," Thad went on, at which
Giraffe winced, for the shaft went home. "One day he was playing on a
hillside with their big dog, Rover. He would roll a stone down the hill,
and Rover would obediently run after it, and bring it back. He seemed to
be enjoying the sport as much as the boy.
"Then all at once the boy discovered a big hornet's nest almost a foot in
diameter, hanging low down on a bush. He saw a chance to have a great
lark. He would roll a stone so as to hit the nest, and send Rover after
it. Then the hornets would come raging out, and it would be such a lark
to see them chasing poor Rover down the hill.
"Well, the stone he rolled went true to the mark, and came slam against
the hornet's nest. Rover was in full pursuit, and he banged up against
it, too. Out came a black swarm of furious hornets, and of course they
tackled poor Rover like everything.
"The boy up on the hill laughed until he nearly doubled up, to hear Rover
yelp, and whirl around this way and that. He thought he had never had
such a bully time in all his life as just then. Rover was a fine dog, and
the boy thought just heaps of him; but then it was so comical to see how
he twisted, and bit at himself, and he howled so fiercely, too, that the
boy could hardly get his breath for laughing.
"But all at once he saw to his alarm that poor Rover, unable to help
himself, was running up the hill straight to his master, as though
thinking that the boy could save him. Then the boy stopped laughing. It
didn't seem so funny then. And, Giraffe, inside of ten seconds there was
a boy running madly down the hill, fighting a thousand mad hornets that
stung him everywhere, and set him to yelling as if he were half crazy.
When he got home finally, and saw his swollen face in the glass, and felt
Rover licking his hand as if the good fellow did not dream that his
master had betrayed him so meanly, what do you suppose that boy said to
himself, if he had any conscience at all?"
Giraffe looked up. He was as red in the face as any turkey that ever
strutted and gobbled. Giraffe at least had a conscience, as his words
proved beyond any doubt.
"Served him right, Thad; that's what I say! And I thank you for telling
me that story. It's a hummer, all right, and I won't ever forget it,
either, I promise you. It _was_ a cruel joke, and some time I'm going to
make up for playing it. That's all I want to say, Thad."
And the wise patrol leader, knowing that it would do Giraffe a lot more
good to commune with himself just then, rather than to be taken to task
any further, walked away, to rejoin Allan, who was at the head of the
expedition. Nor did Giraffe make any effort to hasten his footsteps so as
to catch up with the rest, until quite some little time had elapsed.