Bull obeyed, stumbling along and still looking down
at his wounded hands.
He left the three behind him, bewildered and frightened.
Had lightning split a thick tree beside them, or an
unexpected landslide thundered past and swept the
ground away at their feet, they could have been hardly
more disturbed.
“Who’d of thought he could act like that!”
remarked Joe. “My gosh, Jessie!”
They went and looked at the hole where the stump had
stood. At the bottom was the white remnant of
the taproot where it had burst under the strain.
“It wasn’t so much how he pulled up the
stump,” said the girl faintly. “But—but
did you see his face, boys, after he heaved the stump
up? I—just pick that stump up, will
you?”
They went to the misshapen, ragged monster and lifted
it, puffing under the weight.
“All right.”
They dropped it obediently.
“And he—he just swung it around his
head like it was nothing!” declared the girl.
“Look how it smashed into the gravel where he
threw it down! Why—why—I
didn’t know men was made like that. And
his face—the way he laughed—why
he didn’t look like no fool at all, boys.
But just as if he’d waked up!”
“You act so interested,” said Harry Campbell
dryly, “that maybe you’d like to have
us call him out again so’s you can talk to him?”
Apparently she did not hear, but stared down into
the mist of the late afternoon, warning her that she
must start home. She seemed puzzled and a little
frightened. When she left them it was with a wave
of the hand and with no words of farewell. They
watched her go down the trail that jerked back and
forth across the pitch of the slope; twice her pony
stumbled, a sure sign that the rider was absent-minded.
“Jessie didn’t seem to know what to make
of it,” said Harry.
“Neither do I,” returned his brother.
Both of them spoke in subdued voices as if they were
afraid of being overheard.
“And think if he’d ever lay a hold on
one of us like that!” said Harry. He went
to the stump and examined the side of one of the roots.
It was stained with crimson.
“Look where his finger tips worked through the
dirt and the bark, right down to the solid wood,”
murmured Joe.
They looked at each other uneasily. “My
gosh,” said Joe, “think of the way I handled
him the other night! He—he let me trip
him up and throw him!” He shuddered. “Why,
if he’d laid hold of me just once, he’d
of squashed my muscles like they was rotten fruit!”
Of one accord they turned back to the house.
At the door they paused and peered in, as into the
den of a bear. There sat Bull on the floor—he
risked his weight to none of the crazy chairs—still
looking at his stained hands. Then they drew
back and again looked at each other with scared eyes
and spoke in undertones.
