"Well?" the latter grunted, as Betty glanced fearfully at him. "What
did you come for? I suppose you think two rows of corn down flat is
something to snicker at?"
They stood on the edge of a flourishing field of corn, and,
following the direction of Mr. Peabody's accusing finger, Betty
Gordon saw that two fine rows had been partially eaten and trampled.
"Oh, that's too bad!" she said impulsively, "What did it--a stray
cow?"
"Keppler's black and white heifer," answered Mr. Peabody grimly.
"Bob here is finding fault with me because I didn't let it eat its
head off."
"No such thing!" Bob Henderson was stung into speech. "Because the
poor creature didn't get out fast enough to suit you--and you
bewildered her with your shouting till she didn't know which way to
turn--you jabbed her with the pitchfork. I saw the blood! And I say
nobody but an out and out coward would do a thing like that to a dumb
animal."
"Oh!" breathed Betty again, softly. "How could you!"
"Now I've heard about enough of that!" retorted Mr. Peabody angrily.
"If you'd both attend to your own business and leave me to mind mine,
we'd save a lot of time. You, Bob, go let down the bars and turn that
critter into the road.
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