“to look at those beasts,” tavia said, ruefully, and some time after the event, “you wouldn’t think they could

run at all.”

certainly a pair of steers tipping the scales at a ton and a half each did not look like racing machines. but they

proved to be that as they thundered down hill.

had one of them fallen on the way we shrink from thinking of the result—to the two girls in the cart. the long,

lingering dog that had started the trouble was left far behind. the three collegians who had come over the hill to

surprise the girls, could not gain a yard in the race. as for “that redhead” who had governed the steers before

they ran, he just missed the rear of the cart and he followed it down the steep grade with an abandon that was

worthy of a better end.

for he couldn’t catch it; and had he been able to, what advantage would it have given him?

when a span of steers wish to run away, and decide upon running away, and really get into action,179 nothing but a

ten-foot stone wall will stop them. and there was no wall at hand.

the great wheels bounced and the cart threatened to turn over at every revolution of the wheels; tavia screamed

intermittently; dorothy held on grimly and hoped for the best.

the steers kept right on in a desperately grim way, their tails still stiffened. they reached the bottom of the hill

and were at the very verge of the sloping bank into the shallows of the river.

a suicidal mania seemed to have gained possession of their bovine minds. they cared nothing for themselves, for the

wagon, or for the passengers in that wagon. into the river they plunged. the wabbling cart rolled after them until

the water rose more than hub high.

and then the oxen halted abruptly, both lowered their noses a little, and both began to drink!

“such excitement over an old drink of water!” gasped tavia, and then fell completely into the hay and could not

rise for laughing.

“do—do you suppose they ran down here—like that—just to get a drink?” demanded dorothy. “why—why i was scared

almost to death!”

“me, too; we could have been killed just as easy, whether the oxen were murderously inclined or as playful as

kittens. ugh! that redhead!”

“it wasn’t his fault,” said dorothy.

“he never should have left us alone with them.”

180 “it was that dog did it,” declared dorothy.

“don’t matter who did it. the dog was funny enough looking to scare ’em into fits,” giggled tavia. “here he

comes again. oh, i hope the oxen don’t see him.”

“yet you blame the young man with the—light hair,” hesitated dorothy. “here he comes now.”

the excited young man with the flame-colored tresses was ahead of the three collegians. he leaped right into the

water and called to the girls to come to the back of the cart.

“’tis no knowing when them ugly bastes will take it inter their heads to start ag’in,” he declared, holding his

strong arms to dorothy. “lemme carry ye ashore out o’ harm’s way, miss.”

dorothy trusted herself to him at once. but the boys were not to be outdone in this act of gallantry—at least, one

of them was not. bob niles rushed right into the water and grabbed tavia, whether she wanted to be “rescued” or

not.

“bob, my dear boy,” said tavia, in her most grown-up manner, “don’t stub your poor little piggy-wiggies and send

us both splash into the water. that would be too ridiculous.”

“i shall bear you safely ashore, tavia—no fear,” he grunted. “whew! you’ve been putting on flesh, i declare,

since new year’s,” he added.

“pounds and pounds,” she assured him. “now, up the bank, little boy.”

181 dorothy was already deposited in safety and her cousins were taking their turns in “saluting her on both

cheeks;” but when bob tried to take toll from tavia in that way she backed off, threatening him with an upraised

hand.

“you are no cousin—make no mistake on that point, sir,” she declared.

“huh! i ought to have some reward for saving you from a watery grave,” said bob, sheepishly.

“charge it, please,” lisped tavia. “there are some debts i never propose to pay till i get ready.”

but she, like dorothy, was unfeignedly glad to see the three young men again. while they chattered with ned, and

nat, and bob, the red-haired young man got his oxen and the cart out of the river and guided the animals back toward

the hill.

there came on a dog-trot from the scene of the excavating operations a fat, puffy man, who snatched the whip out of

redhead’s hand and proceeded to administer a tongue lashing, part of which the girls and their companions

overheard.

“oh! he doesn’t deserve that,” said dorothy, mildly. “it wasn’t his fault.”

“he shouldn’t have left us alone in the cart,” pouted tavia. “that’s mr. simpson, one of father’s foremen. let

him be. a scolding never killed anybody yet—otherwise, how would i have survived olaine this term?”

182 dorothy was not quite satisfied, but she was overborne by her companions to go back to town and so did not see

the end of the controversy between the foreman and “that redhead” as tavia insisted on calling the ox-team driver.

besides, tavia acknowledged a cut she had received on her arm by being banged about in the ox-cart.

“you’d better hurry home and put some disinfectant on it,” advised nat, who always had serious interest in tavia

’s well-being.

“huh!” said tavia, hotly, “i’m not a kitchen sink, i hope. if you mean antiseptic, say so.”

“wow!” cried ned. “our tavia has become a purist.”

“oh, dear, that’s worse!” declared tavia. “come on, doro, i don’t like these boys any more. i am going to

become a man-hater, anyway, i think. they’re always underfoot—— oh! what a cute dog you’ve got, ned.”

“’tain’t mine,” said ned. “it’s nat’s.”

“but he seems a long way from his head to his tail for a short-legged beast,” observed dorothy.

“that’s some dog, let me tell you,” nat declared, stoutly. “he’s a real german dachshund.”

“i thought he looked like an animated sausage,” declared tavia, stooping to pet the animal. the creature stood

very still while she patted his sleek coat, only blinking his big, soft brown eyes.

183 “he isn’t very sociable, i don’t think,” grumbled tavia.

“of course he is,” said nat. “he’s as good-natured as he can be.”

“how are you going to tell? he doesn’t wag his tail when you pat him on the head—see there!”

“aw, give him time,” laughed ned. “don’t you know it takes a dachshund several minutes to transmit ecstacy along

the line to the terminus?”

they went along to tavia’s house gaily. the boys remained to supper, and it was only after that comfortable meal,

and while the boys were in mr. travers’ “office,” where he smoked his evening pipe, the girls being busy clearing

the table and washing dishes, that nat sang out:

“hi, doro! did you hear about your redhead?”

“what about him?” cried dorothy and tavia.

“mr. travers says he got the g. b. after letting those oxen run away.”

“oh, never!” cried tavia, coming to the door.

“you were sore on him yourself, tavia,” reminded bob niles.

“but you didn’t discharge him, father?” questioned the tender-hearted girl.

“no. it was simpson. but i could not very well interfere,” said mr. travers.

“why not? it wasn’t fair!” urged tavia.

“i am sure simpson knows best. though i liked tom,” said her father. “i cannot interfere184 between the foreman

and the men. if i did i’d soon have neither overseers nor workmen, but a strike on my hands,” and he laughed.

“i think it is too bad, sir,” said dorothy, gravely. “really, it was not his fault at all that we were run away

with.”

“he left you alone with the beasts,” ned declared.

“he was called by those other men to help,” tavia retorted.

“well, he’s gone, i fear,” said mr. travers, shaking his head.

“not out of town, father?”

“i reckon so. tom comes and goes. he is a good man, although he’s young; but he’s unsettled. lots of these

workmen are. they go from place to place. he is fit to take charge himself, i believe, of a steel construction gang;

but, as the boys say, ‘something got his goat.’ he doesn’t work at his trade any more. it is a dangerous trade,

and he probably had an accident——”

“steel construction—bridge building, do you mean, sir?” asked dorothy, suddenly.

“why, yes—i suppose so.”

“and he is red-haired!” gasped dorothy. “oh, what’s his name, mr. travers?”

“tom moran; he’s worked for me before—”

“oh, doro!” cried tavia.

“oh, tavia!” echoed dorothy.