Part 25 (2/2)
”I declare!” exclaimed Mr. Royden, suddenly, ”that cunning brute has got hold of your coat, Father Brighthopes!”
”Ha!” said the clergyman. ”My coat? That will never do, at all. Where is the little rascal?”
”Don't chase him, James!” cried Mr. Royden. ”You will only make the matter worse.”
But James did not hear. The colt, with the clergyman's coat between his teeth, was capering over the hill. James ran after him, throwing pebble-stones and shouting, while the hired laborers leaned their great strong arms upon the fence, and laughed broadly at the fun.
”What a playful animal!” exclaimed Father Brighthopes, laughing as heartily as any. ”He thinks he is doing a wonderfully pretty trick.”
Suddenly the colt stopped, dropped the garment, and, looking round at James, whom he had distanced by some twenty rods, darted from the top of the hill. This was not all. While the youth ran panting up the acclivity, he returned to the coat, and began to tear it with his teeth and fore-feet; but James put an end to that fun, by sending a well-aimed stone to the very center of his neck, upon which the mischievous animal s.n.a.t.c.hed up the garment again, and went galloping off with it to the further extremity of the field.
Mr. Royden, Chester and one of the hired men, had to go to the a.s.sistance of James, and drive the colt into a corner, before the booty could be recovered. When it was finally seized by Chester from under his very feet, it was not worth much. It had been shamefully trampled and torn.
But Father Brighthopes laughed pleasantly, as they brought it back to him.
”The shrewd dog!” said he; ”as long as I kept at work, he was too conscientious to touch my coat; but the moment I stopped to pick berries, he thought he would teach me a lesson.”
”I am sorry,--sorry!” exclaimed the mortified farmer.
”Oh, it is not a great loss! It will not ruin me. I think I shall recover from the damage. Bad work he made with it, didn't he?” laughed the old man, holding up the wreck of cloth. ”It is fortunate I did not wear my best coat out here. It isn't so bad as if I had not another to my back. You have no more colts over in the cornfield, to take as good care of my vest, I trust?”
As the men looked in the direction of the vest, they saw Mark Wheeler, the jockey, coming towards them, across the lot. He was walking very fast, and pa.s.sion contracted his features.
”Mr. Royden,” said he, with forced calmness, ”are you pretty busy just now?”
”You see I am holding my own with these hearty young men,” replied the farmer.
”I'll work for you enough to make up for lost time,” said Mark, ”if you will go over and look at my new horse.”
”What is the matter with him?”
”He has hurt his eye.”
”Hurt his eye? How?” asked Mr. Royden.
”You will see; I can't stop to explain now,” answered Mark, showing more and more agitation. ”If you can, I wish you would go right over now.”
”Oh, well, I will,” said Mr. Royden. ”Let me carry my scythe to the other end of the swath. Come, Father Brighthopes, would you like to take a short walk?”
The old man, thinking he had exercised about enough for one forenoon, willingly left the meadow in company with Mr. Royden, Chester and Mark the jockey; having first, to the great amus.e.m.e.nt of the spectators, put on the farmer's loose coat, to avoid getting cold in his aged bones.
XXI.
THE SWAMP-LOT.
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