A BOY AND A BULL.
To Harry it looked as if the little girl might be killed at any
instant, and for the moment his heart seemed to stop beating. He
recognized the child as the daughter of Mr. Corsen, the gentleman he
had just left at the ball field. She was a dear little creature and a
great pet of all who knew her.
"Run! run!" he called out. "Run, Violet!"
But little Violet was too scared to move and only remained crouching by
the shop window, her eyes filled with terror.
It was then that Harry's natural bravery asserted itself. Baseball bat
in hand he leaped swiftly to the little girl's assistance.
"Oh, help me!" she screamed. "Take the naughty bull away!"
To this Harry did not answer. Hauling off he took quick aim, and down
came the bat on the bull's head with telling effect. Then, as the beast
staggered and paused, he hit the savage creature another blow.
[Illustration: Down came the bat on the bull's head.]
"That's it! Give it to him!" cried a man some yards away. But he
himself kept at a safe distance.
The second blow from the baseball bat drove the bull back into the
roadway and there he stood, swaying from side to side and glaring
ferociously at Harry. By this time the beast's owner, Jerry Flagg, a
farmer, was rushing up, pitchfork in hand. Others were also gathering.
"Go into the shop, Violet!" called out Harry. "Don't wait--go at once."
The little girl hesitated a few seconds longer, but then ran for the
shop door. As she did this, the bull charged upon Harry. The boy saw
it would be useless to attempt to stay that rush and so leaped to one
side. On came the beast and struck the shop just beside the show window
with such force that one of the panes of glass was broken.
"Hi! hi! drat ye!" came from Jerry Flagg, and now he managed to get
hold of the end of the rope which was dragging behind the bull. "Git
back here, ye villain!"
"Look out, Jerry, or he'll gore you!" called somebody in the crowd that
was gathering.
"No, he won't gore me!" answered Jerry Flagg. "I know him. He's got ter
mind, or I'll kill him!" And rushing closer he gave the bull a vicious
jab with the pitchfork. The beast whirled around and then started down
the street at full speed, scattering the crowd in all directions. After
the bull came Jerry Flagg, trying to catch hold of the rope once more.
Thus beast and man left the town behind, and the excitement in that
quarter came to an end. It may be stated here that the farmer caught
the bull two hours later and had him tied up in such a fashion that for
the time being he could do no further damage.
"Harry, that was a fine thing to do," said one of the men who had
witnessed the boy's actions. "You did give him two hard ones with your
bat."
"Well, I didn't want to see little Violet Corsen hurt," he answered.
"If the bull had gotten at her he might have killed her. He had his
eyes on her bright red dress."
"Yes, I saw that myself. But you can be thankful the bull didn't knock
you over."
"I am thankful. How thick a bull's head must be! Two such whacks as
that would kill any ordinary beast."
"Oh, they are tough, and that old beast of Flagg's is especially so. I
reckon he'll keep the bull out of town after this."
Harry went into the shop and found Violet still full of excitement and
fear.
"It's all over now," he said kindly. "You can go now if you want to."
"Oh, Harry, I'm afraid to go alone!"
"Then I'll take you home."
This pleased the little girl, and hand in hand they left the shop and
started for the Corsen residence, which was on the most fashionable
side street of Lakeport. It was soon reached and Harry left Violet at
the gate. Then he hurried back, to do his errand and get home in time
for supper.
"You are a little late," said his mother, when he entered.
"I couldn't help it, mother. There was some excitement downtown. Jerry
Flagg brought a bull into town and he broke loose, and smashed one of
Mr. Jackson's shop windows."
"Did he come after you?"
"Not exactly, but I hit him with my baseball bat. Then he ran away."
"You must be careful, Harry. A bull is a dangerous animal when he gets
wild."
No more was said about the happening by Harry and the supper passed as
usual. But hardly was it finished when the doorbell rang.
"Who can that be?" murmured Mrs. Westmore and sent Laura to answer
the summons. On the piazza stood Mr. Monroe Corsen and his wife, with
Violet.
"Is Harry at home?" asked the gentleman.
"Yes, sir. Please walk in," answered Laura.
"Oh, Mrs. Westmore, I want to thank Harry for what he did!" cried Mrs.
Corsen, hysterically. "He was so brave! If it hadn't been for him our
Violet would have been gored to death!"
"Harry, it was a fine thing to do," said the gentleman, heartily. "I've
been downtown and several told me of how you jumped in between Violet
and the bull and struck the bull with your bat. I owe you a good deal
for that, my lad." And he gave the boy a warm squeeze of the hand.
"It was grand!" cried Mrs. Corsen. "Harry, you are a hero!" And she
gave him a hug.
"He didn't tell me of all this," said Mrs. Westmore. "Harry, why didn't
you?"
"Oh, I don't know," he answered, blushing. "I--I only did what I
thought I had to do."
"He was too modest, that's why!" cried Mrs. Corsen. And then she and
her husband gave the details of the affair as they had gathered them.
"Good for Harry!" ejaculated Joe. "I'm glad you had that heavy baseball
bat with you."
"It was the red dress that brought on the trouble," put in Mr.
Westmore, secretly pleased at the bravery his son had shown. "Bulls
hate red as a person hates poison. I heard about his breaking loose,
but I didn't hear any more than that."
"Harry, I feel that I owe you something substantial for what you have
done," said Mr. Corsen. "Violet is very dear to my wife and me."
"No, you don't owe me a thing!" was Harry's quick answer, and he
blushed again.
"But I think I do," persisted the gentleman. "I want to reward you."
"I don't want any reward."
Mr. Corsen looked nonplussed for a moment.
"Harry will be satisfied with your thanks, Mr. Corsen," came from Mr.
Westmore. "I know how he feels. I should feel the same, and so should
you."
"Well, perhaps." Monroe Corsen hesitated. "Let me see, I believe you
are trying your best to make a success of your baseball club?" he went
on, and looked at both Harry and Joe.
"Yes, sir," answered Joe.
"Then perhaps you'll allow me to do something for the club?"
"Oh, you can do what you please for the club, Mr. Corsen," cried
Harry. "That represents Lakeport, you know--that is, it will represent
Lakeport unless Si Voup's club plays better ball."
"Then I'll see what I can do for the club," answered Mr. Corsen; and a
little later he and his wife left the Westmore home.
"Wonder what he will do?" said Joe, when he and his brother were
retiring for the night.
"Oh, he'll give us something," answered Harry. "Perhaps some extra bats
and balls, or something for the clubroom."
"He is a pretty rich man, Harry."
"I know it, but what I did wasn't of such tremendous importance. Any of
the fellows could have done it."
On the following day, after school, Harry found a letter awaiting him.
It was from Mr. Corsen, and ran as follows:
"To Harry Westmore and the Lakeport Baseball Club:
"As a token of my appreciation of what was done for my little
daughter Violet, and also as an evidence of the interest I take
in the recently organized Lakeport Baseball Club, I hereby donate
to the club the sum of one hundred dollars, to be known as the
Violet Corsen Fund, and to be used as the officers and members of
the Lakeport Baseball Club deem best. With best wishes for your
success, I remain,
"MONROE T. CORSEN."
"Hurrah! isn't that fine?" cried Harry, as he read the letter to his
brother. "And here is the cash--ten ten-dollar bills." And he held the
money up in his hand.
"This is certainly generous," returned Joe. "A hundred dollars, with
what we already have, will buy us everything we need and leave a little
in the treasury besides."
"I think you ought to call a special meeting of the club on this."
"I will," answered Joe, and ran off to execute the idea without delay.
Soon the boys gathered at the clubroom, and then Harry read the letter
out loud and passed the hundred dollars over to the treasurer.
"Whoop! this is simply great!" cried Fred. "Harry, you're a--a peach!"
"Wish we could all hammer bulls with bats!" piped in Matt. "Say,
wouldn't we get rich, at one hundred per bull?" And this raised a short
laugh.
"Let us give Mr. Corsen a vote of thanks," suggested Link. "It's the
very least we can do."
"A vote of thanks and a complimentary seat in the grand stand to all of
our games," added Bart.
The latter suggestion met with instant approval, and a nicely worded
letter was sent to the gentleman without delay and in it was enclosed
the necessary pass for the grandstand.
"I am sure that ought to please him," said Joe, after reading the
letter over, and adding his signature to the pass. And it did please
the gentleman very much, as they afterwards found out.