Part 9 (1/2)

Branson drove the cattle towards the pen, and got them inside, then he and his men concentrated all their attention on the combatants.

”The boy'll be killed as sure as a gun!” cried the keeper. Archie did not think so, evidently; and it is certain he had his wits about him, for presently he rode near enough to shout:

”Ease up a hurdle from the back of the pen, and stand by to open it as I ride through.”

The plan was a bold one, and Branson saw through it at once.

Down he ran with his men, and a back hurdle was loosened.

”All right!” he shouted.

And now down thundered Scallowa and Archie, the bull making a beautiful second.

In a minute or less he had entered the pen, but this very moment the style of the fight changed somewhat; for had not the attention of everyone been riveted on the race, they might have seen the great Newfoundland das.h.i.+ng over the field, and just as Lord Glendale was entering the pen, Bounder pinned him short by the tail.

The brute roared with pain and wheeled round. Meanwhile Archie had escaped on the pony, and the back hurdle was put up again. But how about the new phase the fight had taken?

Once more the boy's quick-wittedness came to the front. He leapt off the pony and back into the pen, calling aloud, ”Bounder! Bounder!

Bounder!”

In rushed the obedient dog, and after him came the bull; up went the hurdle, and off went Archie! But, alas! for the unlucky Bounder. He was tossed right over into the field a moment afterwards, bleeding frightfully from a wound in his side.

To all appearance Bounder was dead. In an agony of mind the boy tried to staunch the blood with his handkerchief; and when at last the poor dog lifted his head, and licked his young master's face, the relief to his feelings was so great that he burst into tears. Archie was only a boy after all, though a bold and somewhat mischievous one.

Bounder now drank water brought from a stream in a hat. He tried to get up, but was too weak to walk, so he was lifted on to Scallowa's broad back and held there, and thus they all returned to Burley Old Farm.

So ended the adventure with the baby-bull of Chillingham. The ring was put in his nose next day, and I hope it did not hurt much. But old Kate had Bounder as a patient in the kitchen corner for three whole weeks.

A day or two after the above adventure, and just as the Squire was putting on his coat in the hall, who should march up to the door and knock but Harry Brown himself.

Most boys would have gone to the backdoor, but shyness was not one of Harry's failings.

”'Ullo!” he said; for the door opened almost on the instant he knocked, ”Yer don't take long to hopen to a chap then.”

”No,” said Squire Broadbent, smiling down on the lad; ”fact is, boy, I was just going out.”

”Going for a little houting, hey? Is 'pose now you're Johnnie's guv'nor?”

”I think I know whom you refer to. Master Archie, isn't it? and you're the little London lad?”

”I don't know nuffink about no Harchies. P'r'aps it _is_ Harchibald.

But I allers calls my friends wot they looks like. He looks like Johnnie. Kinsevently, guv'nor, he _is_ Johnnie to me. D'ye twig?”

”I think I do,” said Squire Broadbent, laughing; ”and you want to see my boy?”

”Vot I vants is this 'ere. Johnnie is a rare game un. 'Scuse me, guv'nor, but Johnnie's got the grit in him, and I vant to say good-bye; nuffink else, guv'nor.”

Here Harry actually condescended to point a finger at his lip by way of salute, and just at the same moment Archie himself came round the corner. He looked a little put out, but his father only laughed, and he saw it was all right.

These were Harry's last words: ”Good-bye, then. You've got the grit in ye, Johnnie. And if hever ye vants a friend, telegraph to 'Arry Brown, Esq., of Vitechapel, 'cos ye know, Johnnie, the king may come in the cadger's vay. Adoo. So long. Blue-lights, and hoff we goes.”