CHAPTER IX
MR. HEARTY ENCOUNTERS A BULL
I
"He's sure to lose his way across the fields," cried Mrs. Bindleangrily.
"'Earty's too careful to lose anythink," said Bindle, as, from a smalltin box, he crammed tobacco into his pipe. "'E's used to the narrow way'e is," he added.
"You ought to have gone to meet him."
"My legs is feelin' a bit tired----" began Bindle, who enjoyed hisbrother-in-law's society only when there were others to enjoy it withhim.
"Bother your legs," she snapped.
"Supposin' you 'ad various veins in your legs."
"Don't be nasty."
"Well, wot jer want to talk about my legs for, if I mustn't talk aboutyours," he grumbled.
"You've got a lewd mind, Bindle," she retorted, "and you know it."
"Well, any'ow, I ain't got lood legs."
She drew in her lips; but said nothing.
"I don't know wot 'Earty wants to come down to a funny little 'ole likethis for," grumbled Bindle, as they walked across the meadow adjoiningthe camping-ground, making for a spot that would give them a view of thefield-path leading to the station.
"It's because he wants to buy some fruit."
"I thought there was somethink at the back of the old bird's mind," heremarked. "'Earty ain't one to spend railway fares jest for the love o'seein' you an' me, Mrs. B. It's apples 'es after--reg'lar old Adam 'eis. You only got to watch 'im with them gals in the choir."
"If you talk like that I shall leave you," she cried angrily; "and it'sstrawberries, apples aren't in yet," she added, as if that were acircumstance in Mr. Hearty's favour.
Mr. Hearty had proved himself to be a man of action. Mrs. Bindle'sglowing account of vast stores of strawberries, to be had almost for theasking, had torn from him a telegram announcing that he would be at theSummer-Camp for Tired Workers soon after two o'clock that, Monday,afternoon.
Mrs. Bindle was almost genial at the prospect of seeing herbrother-in-law, and earning his thanks for assistance rendered.Conditions at the camp remained unchanged. After the service on theprevious day, the bishop had once more disappeared, ostensibly inpursuit of the errant field-kitchen and marquee, promising to returnearly the following afternoon.
Arrived at the gate on the further side of the field, Bindle paused.Then, as Mrs. Bindle refused his suggestion that he should "'oist" herup, he himself climbed on to the top-rail and sat contentedly smoking.
"I don't seem to see 'Earty a-walkin' across a field," he remarkedmeditatively. "It don't seem natural."
"You can't see anything but what's in your own wicked mind," sheretorted acidly.
"Well, well!" he said philosophically. "P'raps you're right. I supposewe shall see them merry whiskers of 'is a-comin' round the corner, 'ima-leadin' a lamb with a pink ribbon. I can see 'Earty with a littlelamb, an' a sprig o' mint for the sauce."
For nearly a quarter of an hour Bindle smoked in silence, whilst Mrs.Bindle stood with eyes fixed upon a stile on the opposite side of thefield, over which Mr. Hearty was due to come.
"What was that?"
Involuntarily she clutched Bindle's knee, as a tremendous roar broke thestillness of the summer afternoon.
"That's ole Farmer Timkins' bull," explained Bindle. "Rare ole sport, 'eis. Tossed a cove last week, an' made a rare mess of 'im."
"It oughtn't to be allowed."
"Wot?"
"Dangerous animals like that," was the retort.
"Well, personally myself, I likes a cut o' veal," Bindle remarked,watching Mrs. Bindle covertly; but her thoughts were intent on Mr.Hearty, and the allusion passed unnoticed.
"It 'ud be a bad thing for ole 'Earty, if that bull was to get 'im bythe back o' the trousers," mused Bindle. "'Ullo, there 'e is." Heindicated with the stem of his pipe a point in the hedge on the rightof the field, over which was thrust a great dun-coloured head.
Again the terrifying roar split the air. Instinctively Mrs. Bindlerecoiled, and gripped the parrot-headed umbrella she was carrying.
"It's trying to get through. I'm not going to wait here," she announcedwith decision. "It may----"
"Don't you worry, Mrs. B.," he reassured her. "'E ain't one o' thejumpin' sort. Besides, there's an 'edge between 'im an' us, not to speako' this 'ere gate."
Mrs. Bindle retired a yard or two, her eyes still on the dun-colouredhead.
So absorbed were she and Bindle in watching the bull, that neither ofthem saw Mr. Hearty climbing the opposite stile.
As he stood on the topmost step, silhouetted against the blue sky, thetails of his frock-coat flapping, Bindle caught sight of him.
"'Ullo, 'ere's old 'Earty!" he cried, waving his hand.
Mr. Hearty descended gingerly to terra firma, then, seeing Mrs. Bindle,he raised his semi-clerical felt hat. In such matters, Mr. Hearty wasextremely punctilious.
At that moment the bull appeared to catch sight of the figure with theflapping coat-tails.
It made a tremendous onslaught upon the hedge, and there was a sound ofcrackling branches; but the hedge held.
"Call out to him, Bindle. Shout! Warn him! Do you hear?" cried Mrs.Bindle excitedly.
"'E's all right," said Bindle complacently. "That there bull ain'ta-goin' to get through an 'edge like that."
"Mr. Hearty, there's a bull! Run!"
Mrs. Bindle's thin voice entirely failed to carry to where Mr. Heartywas walking with dignity and unconcern, regardless of the danger whichMrs. Bindle foresaw threatened him.
The bull made another attack upon the hedge. Mr. Hearty's flappingcoat-tails seemed to goad it to madness. There was a further cracklingand the massive shoulders of the animal now became visible; but still itwas unable to break through.
"Call out to him, Bindle. He'll be killed, and it'll be your fault," shecried hysterically, pale and trembling with anxiety.
"Look out, 'Earty!" yelled Bindle. "There's a bloomin' bull," and hepointed in the direction of the hedge; but the bull had disappeared.
Mr. Hearty looked towards the point indicated; but, seeing nothing,continued his dignified way, convinced that Bindle was once moreindulging in what Mr. Hearty had been known to describe as "his untimelyjests."
He was within some fifty yards of the gate where the Bindles awaitedhim, when there was a terrific crash followed by a mighty roar--the bullwas through. It had retreated apparently in order to charge the hedgeand break through by virtue of its mighty bulk.
Bindle yelled, Mrs. Bindle screamed, and Mr. Hearty gave one wild lookover his shoulder and, with terror in his eyes and his semi-clerical hatstreaming behind, attached only by a hat-guard, he ran as he had neverrun before.
Bindle clambered down from the gate so as to leave the way clear, andMrs. Bindle thrust her umbrella into Bindle's hands. She had always beentold that no bull would charge an open umbrella.
"Come on, 'Earty!" yelled Bindle. "Run like 'ell!" In his excitement hesquatted down on his haunches, for all the world like a man encouraginga whippet.
Mr. Hearty ran, and the bull, head down and with a snorting noise thatstruck terror to the heart of the fugitive, ran also.
"Run, Mr. Hearty, run!" screamed Mrs. Bindle again.
The bull was running diagonally in the direction of Mr. Hearty's fleeingfigure. In this it was at a disadvantage.
"Get ready to help him over," cried Mrs. Bindle, terror clutching at herheart.
"Looks to me as if 'Earty and the bull and the whole bloomin'caboodle'll come over together," muttered Bindle.
"Oooooh!"
A new possibility seemed to strike Mrs. Bindle and, with a terrifiedlook at the approaching bull, which at that moment gave utterance to asuper-roar, she turned and fled for the gate on the opposite side of thefield.
For a second Bindle tore his gaze from the drama before him. He caughtsight of several inches of white leg above a pair of elastic-sidedboots, out of which dangled black and orange tabs.
"Help, Joseph, help!" Mr. Hearty screamed in hi
s terror and, a secondlater, he crashed against the gate on which Bindle had climbed ready tohaul him over.
Seizing his brother-in-law by the collar and a mercifully slack pair oftrousers, he gave him a mighty heave. A moment later, the two fell tothe ground; but on the right side of the gate. As they did so, the bullcrashed his head against it.
The whole structure shivered. For a moment Bindle gave himself up forlost; but, fortunately, the posts held. The enraged animal could donothing more than thrust its muzzle between the bars of the gate andsnort its fury.
The foaming mouth and evil-looking blood-shot eyes caused Bindle toscramble hastily to his feet.
"Oh God! I am a miserable sinner," wailed Mr. Hearty; "but spare me thatI may repent." Then he fell to moaning, whilst Bindle caught a vision ofMrs. Bindle disappearing over the further gate with a startling exposureof white stocking.
"Well, I'm blowed!" he muttered. "Ain't it funny 'ow religion gets intothe legs when there's a bull about? Bit of a slump in 'arps, if you wasto ask me!"
For some seconds he stood gazing down on the grovelling form of Mr.Hearty, an anxious eye on the bull which, with angry snorts, wasbattering the gate in a manner that caused him some concern.
"Look 'ere, 'Earty, you'd better nip orf," he said at length, bringinghis boot gently into contact with a prominent portion of thegreengrocer's prostrate form. Mr. Hearty merely groaned and mutteredappeals to the Almighty to save him.
"It ain't no use a-kickin' up all that row," Bindle continued. "This'ere bit o' beef seems to 'ave taken a fancy to you, 'Earty, an' thatthere gate ain't none too strong, neither. 'Ere, steady Kayser," headmonished, as the bull made a vicious dash with its head against thegate.
Mr. Hearty sat up and gave a wild look about him. At the sight of theblood-shot eyes of the enraged animal he scrambled to his feet.
"Now you make a bolt for that there stile," said Bindle, jerking histhumb in the direction where Mrs. Bindle had just disappeared, "andyou'll find Mrs. B. somewhere on the other side."
With another apprehensive glance at the bull, Mr. Hearty turned and madetowards the stile. His pace was strangely suggestive of a man cheatingin a walking-race.
The sight of his quarry escaping seemed still further to enrage thebull. With a terrifying roar it dashed furiously at the gate.
The sound of the roar lent wings to the feet of the flying Mr. Hearty.Throwing aside all pretence, he made precipitately towards the stile,beyond which lay safety. For a few seconds, Bindle stood watching theflying figure of his brother-in-law. Then he turned off to the right,along the hedge dividing the meadow from the field occupied by the bull.
"Well, 'ere's victory or Westminster Abbey," he muttered as he creptthrough a hole in the hawthorn, hoping that the bull would not observehim. His object was to warn the farmer of the animal's escape.
Half an hour later, he climbed the stile over which Mrs. Bindle haddisappeared; but there was no sign either of her or of Mr. Hearty.
It was not until he reached the Summer-Camp that he found them seatedoutside the Bindles' tent. Mr. Hearty, looking pasty of feature, wasendeavouring to convey to his blanched lips a cup of tea that Mrs.Bindle had just handed to him; but the trembling of his hand caused itto slop over the side of the cup on to his trousers.
"'Ullo, 'ere we are again," cried Bindle cheerily.
"I wonder you aren't ashamed of yourself," cried Mrs. Bindle.
Bindle stared at her with a puzzled expression. He looked at Mr. Hearty,then back again at Mrs. Bindle.
"Leaving Mr. Hearty and me like that. We might have been killed." Hervoice shook.
"That would 'ave been a short cut to 'arps an' wings."
"I'm ashamed of you, that I am," she continued, while Mr. Hearty turnedupon his brother-in-law a pair of mildly reproachful eyes.
"Well, I'm blowed," muttered Bindle as he walked away. "If them twoain't IT. _Me_ a-leavin' _them_. If that ain't a juicy bit."
Mr. Hearty was only half-way through his second cup of tea when theBishop of Fulham, followed by several of the summer-campers, appearedand walked briskly towards them.
"Where's that husband of yours, Mrs. Bindle?" he enquired, as if hesuspected Bindle of hiding from him.
"I'm sure I don't know, sir," she cried, rising, whilst Mr. Hearty, infollowing suit, stepped upon the tails of his coat and slopped the restof the tea over his trousers.
"Ah," said the bishop. "I must find him. He's a fine fellow, crossingthe field behind that bull to warn Mr. Timkins. If the beast hadhappened to get into the camp, it would have been the very--verydisastrous," he corrected himself, and with a nod he passed on followedby the other campers.
"That's just like Bindle," she complained, "not saying a word, andmaking me ridiculous before the bishop. He's always treating me likethat," and there was a whimper in her voice.
"It's--it's very unfortunate," said Mr. Hearty nervously.
"Thank you, Mr. Hearty," she said. "It's little enough sympathy I get."
II
It was not until nearly four o'clock that Bindle re-appeared with theintimation that he was ready to conduct Mr. Hearty to call upon FarmerTimkins with regard to the strawberries, the purchase of which had beenthe object of Mr. Hearty's visit.
"Won't you come, too, Elizabeth?" enquired Mr. Hearty, turning to Mrs.Bindle.
"Thank you, Mr. Hearty, I should like to," she replied, tightening herbonnet strings as if in anticipation of further violent movement.
Mr. Hearty gave the invitation more as a precaution against Bindle'shigh-spirits, than from a desire for his sister-in-law's company.
"'Ere, not that way," cried Bindle, as they were making for the gateleading to the road.
Mr. Hearty looked hesitatingly at Mrs. Bindle, who, however, settled thequestion by marching resolutely towards the gate.
"But it'll take a quarter of an hour that way," Bindle protested.
"If you think I'm going across any more fields with wild bulls, Bindle,you're mistaken," she announced with decision. "You've nearly killed Mr.Hearty once to-day. Let that be enough."
With a feeling of thankfulness Mr. Hearty followed.
"But that little bit o' beef is tied up with a ring through 'isbloomin' nose. I been an' 'ad a look at 'im."
"Ring or no ring," she snapped, "I'll have you know that I'm not goingacross any more fields. It's a mercy we're either of us alive."
Bindle knew that he was not the other one referred to, and hereluctantly followed, grumbling about long distances and various veins.
Although upon the high-road, both Mrs. Bindle and Mr. Hearty were whatBindle regarded as "a bit jumpy."
From time to time they looked about them with obvious apprehension, asif anticipating that from every point of the compass a bull waspreparing to charge down upon them.
They paused at the main-entrance to the farm, allowing Bindle to leadthe way.
Half-way towards the house, their nostrils were assailed by adevastating smell; Mr. Hearty held his breath, whilst Mrs. Bindleproduced a handkerchief, wiped her lips and then held it to her nose.She had always been given to understand that the only antidote for a badsmell was to spit; but she was too refined to act up to the dictumwithout the aid of her handkerchief.
"Pigs!" remarked Bindle, raising his head and sniffing with the air of aconnoisseur.
"Extremely insanitary," murmured Mr. Hearty. "You did say the--er bullwas tied up, Joseph?" he enquired.
"Well, 'e was when I see 'im," said Bindle, "but of course it wouldn'ttake long for 'im to undo 'imself."
Mr. Hearty glanced about him anxiously.
In front of the house the party paused. Nowhere was anyone to be seen.An old cart with its shafts pointing heavenward stood on the borders ofa duck pond, green with slime.
The place was muddy and unclean, and Mrs. Bindle, with a look ofdisgust, drew up her skirts almost to the tops of her elastic-sidedboots.
Bindle looked about him with interest. A hen appeared round the cornerof the house, gazed
at the newcomers for a few seconds, her head on oneside, then disappeared from whence she had come.
Ducks stood on their heads in the water, or quacked comfortably as theyswam about, apparently either oblivious or indifferent to the fact thatthere were callers.
From somewhere in the distance could be heard the sound of a horsestamping in its stall.
At the end of five minutes an old man appeared carrying a pail. At thesight of strangers, he stopped dead, his slobbering lips gaping insurprise.
"Can I see Mr. Timkins?" enquired Mr. Hearty, in refined but woollytones.
"Farmer be over there wi' Bessie. I tell un she'll foal' fore night; but'e will 'ave it she won't. 'E'll see. 'E will," he added with the air ofa fatalist.
Mr. Hearty turned aside and became interested in the ducks, whilst Mrs.Bindle flushed a deep vermilion. Bindle said nothing; but watched withenjoyment the confusion of the others.
The man stared at them, puzzled to account for their conduct.
"Where did you say Mr. Timkins was to be found?" enquired Mr. Hearty.
"I just tell ee, in the stable wi' Bessie. 'E says she won't foal; but Iknow she will. Why she----"
Mr. Hearty did not wait for further information; but turned and made forwhat, from the motion of the man's head, he took to be the stable.
The others followed.
"No, not there," yelled the man, as if he were addressing someone in thenext field. "Turn round to left o' that there muck 'eap."
A convulsive shudder passed over Mr. Hearty's frame. He was appalled atthe coarseness engendered by an agricultural existence. He hurried on sothat he should not have to meet Mrs. Bindle's eye.
At that moment Farmer Timkins was seen approaching. He was a short,red-faced man in a bob-tailed coat with large flapped-pockets,riding-breeches and gaiters. In his hand he carried a crop which, at thesight of Mrs. Bindle, he raised to his hat in salutation.
"Mornin'."
"Good afternoon," said Mr. Hearty genteelly.
The farmer fixed his eyes upon Mr. Hearty's emaciated sallowness, withall the superiority of one who knows that he is a fine figure of a man.
"It was you that upset Oscar, wasn't it?" There was more accusation thanwelcome in his tone.
"Upset Oscar?" enquired Mr. Hearty, nervously looking from the farmerto Mrs. Bindle, then back again to the farmer.
"Yes, my bull," explained Mr. Timkins.
"It was Oscar wot nearly upset pore old 'Earty," grinned Bindle.
"A savage beast like that ought to be shot," cried Mrs. Bindle, gazingsquarely at the farmer. "It nearly killed----"
"Ought to be shot!" repeated the farmer, a dull flush rising to hisface. "Shoot Oscar! Are you mad, ma'am?" he demanded, making an obviouseffort to restrain his anger.
"Don't you dare to insult me," she cried. "You set that savage brute onto Mr. Hearty and it nearly killed him. I shall report you to thebishop--and--and--to the police," she added as an after-thought. "Youought to be prosecuted."
Mrs. Bindle's lips had disappeared into a grey line, her face was verywhite, particularly at the corners of the mouth. For nearly two hoursshe had restrained herself. Now that she was face to face with the ownerof the bull that had nearly plunged her into mourning, her anger burstforth.
The farmer looked from one to the other in bewilderment.
"Report me to the police," he repeated dully. "What----"
"Yes, and I will too," cried Mrs. Bindle, interpreting the farmer'sstrangeness of manner as indicative of fear. "Mad bulls are alwaysshot."
The farmer focussed his gaze upon Mrs. Bindle, as if she belonged to anew species. His anger had vanished. He was overcome by surprise thatanyone should be so ignorant of bulls and their ways as to believe Oscarmad.
"Why, ma'am, Oscar's no more mad than you or me. He's just a bit fresh.Most times he's as gentle as a lamb."
"Don't talk to me about lambs," cried Mrs. Bindle, now thoroughlyroused. "With my own eyes I saw it chasing Mr. Hearty across the field.It's a wonder he wasn't killed. I shall insist upon the animal beingdestroyed."
The farmer turned to Bindle, as if for an explanation of such strangeviews upon bulls in general and Oscar in particular.
"Oscar's all right, Lizzie," said Bindle pacifically. "'E only wanted toplay tag with 'Earty."
"You be quiet!" cried Mrs. Bindle. She felt that she already had theenemy well beaten and in terror of prosecution.
"I suppose," she continued, turning once more to Mr. Timkins, "you wantto hide the fact that you're keeping a mad bull until you can turn itinto beef and send it to market; but----"
"Turn Oscar into beef!" roared the farmer. "Why, God dang my boots,ma'am, you're crazy! I wouldn't sell Oscar for a thousand pounds."
"I thought so," said Mrs. Bindle, looking across at Mr. Hearty, who wasfeeling intensely uncomfortable, "and people are to be chased about thecountry and murdered just because you won't----"
"But dang it, ma'am! there isn't a bull like Oscar for twenty milesround. Last year I had--let me see, how many calves----"
"Don't be disgusting," she cried, whilst Mr. Hearty turned his headaside, and coughed modestly into his right hand.
Mr. Timkins gazed from one to the other in sheer amazement, whilstBindle, who had so manoeuvred as to place himself behind Mrs. Bindle,caught the farmer's eye and tapped his forehead significantly.
The simple action seemed to have a magical effect upon Mr. Timkins. Hisanger disappeared and his customary bluff geniality returned.
He acknowledged Bindle's signal with a wink, then he turned to Mrs.Bindle.
"You see, ma'am, this is all my land, and I let the bishop have hiscamp----"
"That doesn't excuse you for keeping a mad bull," was the uncompromisingretort. The life of her hero had been endangered, and Mrs. Bindle wasnot to be placated by words.
"But Oscar ain't mad," protested the farmer, taking off his hat andmopping his forehead with a large coloured-handkerchief he had drawnfrom his tail-pocket. "I tell you he's no more mad than what I am."
"And I tell you he is," she retorted, with all the assurance of onethoroughly versed in the ways of bulls.
"You see, it's like this here, mum," he said soothingly, intent uponplacating one who was not "quite all there," as he would have expressedit. "It's all through the wind gettin' round to the sou'west. If ithadn't been for that----"
"Don't talk to me about such rubbish," she interrupted scornfully. "Iwonder you don't say it's because there's a new moon. I'm not a fool,although I haven't lived all my life on a farm."
The farmer looked about him helplessly. Then he made another effort.
"You see, ma'am, when the wind's in the sou'west, Oscar gets a whiff o'them cows in the home----"
"How dare you!" The colour of Mrs. Bindle's cheeks transcended anythingthat Bindle had ever seen. "How dare you speak to me! How--youcoarse--you--you disgusting beast!"
At the sight of Mrs. Bindle's blazing eyes and heaving chest, the farmerinvoluntarily retreated a step.
Several times he blinked his eyes in rapid succession.
Mr. Hearty turned and concentrated his gaze upon what the old man haddescribed as "that there muck 'eap."
"Bindle!" cried Mrs. Bindle. "Will you stand by and let that man insultme? He's a coarse, low----" Her voice shook with suppressed passion. Mr.Hearty drew out his handkerchief and coughed into it.
For several seconds Mrs. Bindle stood glaring at the farmer, then, witha sudden movement, she turned and walked away with short, jerky steps ofindignation.
Mr. Hearty continued to gaze at the muck heap, whilst the farmer watchedthe retreating form of Mrs. Bindle, as if she had been a double-headedcalf, or a three-legged duck.
When she had disappeared from sight round the corner of the house, heonce more mopped his forehead with the coloured-handkerchief, then,thrusting it into his pocket, he resumed his hat with the air of a manwho has escaped from some deadly peril.
"It's all that there Jim," he muttered. "I told him t
o look out for thewind and move them cows; but will he? Not if he knows it, dang him."
"Don't you take it to 'eart," said Bindle cheerily. "It ain't no good tostart back-chat with my missis."
"But she said Oscar ought to be shot," grumbled the farmer. "ShootOscar!" he muttered to himself.
"You see, it's like this 'ere, religion's a funny thing. When it gets'old of you, it either makes you mild, like 'Earty 'ere, or it makes youas 'ot as onions, like my missis. She don't mean no 'arm; but when yougone 'ead first over a stile, an' your sort o' shy about yer legs, itdon't make you feel you wants to give yer sugar ticket to the bull wotdid it."
"The--the strawberries, Joseph," Mr. Hearty broke in upon theconversation, addressing Bindle rather than the farmer, of whom he stoodin some awe.
"Ah! dang it, o' course, them strawberries," cried the farmer, who hadbeen advised by Patrol-leader Smithers that a potential customer wouldcall. "Come along this way," and he led the way to a large barn, stillmumbling under his breath.
"This way," he cried again, as he entered and pointed to where stoodrow upon row of baskets full of strawberries, heavily scenting the air.Hearty walked across the barn, picked up a specimen of the fruit and bitit.
"What price are you asking for them?" he enquired.
"Fourpence," was the retort.
"I'm afraid," said Mr. Hearty with all the instincts of the chafferer,"that I could not pay more than----"
"Then go to hell!" roared the farmer. "You get off my farm or--or I'lllet Oscar loose," he added with inspiration.
For the last quarter of an hour he had restrained himself withdifficulty; but Mr. Hearty's bargaining instinct had been the spark thathad ignited the volcano of his wrath.
Mr. Hearty started back violently; stumbled against a large stone andsat down with a suddenness that caused his teeth to rattle.
"Off you go!" yelled the farmer, purple with rage. "Here Jim," heshouted; but Mr. Hearty waited for nothing more. Picking himself up, hefled blindly, he knew not whither. It sufficed him that it should beaway from that muscular arm which was gripping a formidable-lookingcrop.
Bindle turned to follow, feeling that his own popularity had beensubmerged in the negative qualities of his wife and brother-in-law; butthe farmer put out a restraining hand.
"Not you," he said, "you come up to the house. I can give you a mug ofale the like of which you haven't tasted for years. I'm all upset, Iam," he added, as if to excuse his outburst. "I'm not forgettin' thatit was you that came an' told me about Oscar. He might a-done amiddlin' bit o' damage." Then, suddenly recollecting the cause of allthe trouble, he added, "Dang that old Jim! It was them cows what did it.Shoot Oscar!"
Mrs. Bindle: Some Incidents from the Domestic Life of the Bindles Page 9
