The Lost Cow.
“LOOK at that cow!” cried Wendy.
Just in front of them, as they turned a bend in the lane, was a cow, eating the long grass by the side of the road.
“It’s all right,” said Joan. “You’re not afraid of cows, are you?”
“Of course not!” said Wendy indignantly. “But where’s it come from?”
“How should I know?” asked Joan.
“Well, don’t you think we ought to find out?” said Wendy.
“Oh, I see what you mean,” said Joan, looking pleased. “We must find the owner, and take it home, and then preach to him — is that it?”
“Of course,” said Wendy. “He can’t be a very good farmer, or his cows wouldn’t roam loose. I shall tell him that, too.”
“How shall we get the cow to come with us?” asked Joan, eyeing the placid animal thoughtfully. “It looks very happy where it is.”
“We must make a halter, somehow,” said Joan. “I know! — the straps from our satchels!”
“We shall have to carry the satchels in our arms, then,” said Wendy: “and they’re awfully heavy!”
“We’d better put them in the ditch, and cover them with grass, until we’ve finished with the cow.
We can come back for them afterward,” said Joan.
They sat down on the grass and took the straps off their satchels; they were threaded through rings of leather on the back, so it was quite easy. Then they joined Wendy’s strap to Joan’s, and it gave them a nice long piece. Then they threaded one end through the buckle to make a loop, and went gingerly up to the cow, to throw their halter over her head.
Of course the cow moved, just as they were getting the halter over, and it caught up on her horns. She shook her head impatiently, and jerked Joan off her feet, so that she fell in the ditch. It was a dry ditch, however, and she soon scrambled out; but by that time the cow was walking up the road, with the strap dangling from her horns.
“Silly thing!” cried Wendy, grabbing the strap and jerking it. Pluto ran up beside her, but the cow did not like the look of him very much, and backed into the hedge.
“Oh, come out!” cried Joan, very much annoyed. “You silly thing, you! Come out!” She grabbed hold of the strap, too, and pulled. Pluto, thinking it was all a fine game, danced round, barking wildly.
“Oh, Pluto, do stop, you idiot!” cried Wendy, who was growing worried. “Joan — pull this way, not that way! Why can’t you do it properly?”
“I am doing it properly!” snapped Joan. “Shut up, Pluto — it’s you that’s causing all the trouble!”
Suddenly the cow decided that she had had enough, and she turned down the road at a canter. The two girls went, too, because they couldn’t help it, and Pluto galloped along beside them, not barking any more, but giving little yelps of excitement.
Then the weight of the girls, pulling on the strap, checked the cow, and she put her head into the hedge.
“Come out, you wicked thing!” cried Wendy furiously. She ran round to the other side and began punching the cow’s broad flanks with her fists. “Come out! Come out and go home!”
Now this was just what the cow wanted to do; but with girls and dogs all over the place, she felt a bit flummoxed. She buried her head deeper into the hedge, while Wendy hammered her and Joan pulled the strap, and Pluto sat on his haunches and watched with his tongue hanging out.
All at once the girls heard a shout, and there was a very angry-looking man on a bicycle coming down the road.
“What are you doing with that cow?” he shouted.
“Trying to get her to go home,” said Wendy.
“No, you’re not — you’re stealing her! What did you want to let her out of the field for, then?” said the man angrily, getting off his bicycle and putting it against the hedge.
“We didn’t!” said Joan indignantly.
“Yes, you did! You opened the gate and let her out, and now you’re taking her off somewhere. Look at this great strap!”
“We put that on to take her back, you stupid man!” cried Wendy.
“Oh, so I’m stupid, am I?” said the man angrily, taking her by the arm. “Not so stupid as to believe your tales, anyway. What were you leading her down this way for, then?”
“We weren’t! She came down here of her own accord,” said Joan.
“Yes, with you tugging at the rope and the dog chasing her, I suppose! That’s a likely story!” He sounded very cross indeed. “I’m not so stupid as I look, let me tell you!”
Wendy began to cry.
“Let go my arm! You’re hurting me,” she sobbed.
“And that’s not true, either,” said the man. “You’re coming along with me, both of you. I’ll teach you to go around stealing cows and calling people stupid!”
“I’m sorry I said that,” whimpered Wendy. “Please let me go. We didn’t mean to steal the cow, really we didn’t!”
“You shouldn’t have let her out of the field, then,” said the man. The cow had taken her head out of the hedge when she heard his voice, and now began to walk up the road as quietly as though she had never run away in her life. The man, still holding on to Wendy’s arm, walked behind, and Joan, crying, too, now, followed them. Pluto walked warily a long way behind, and sat down from time to time on the dusty road, looking highly perplexed at what was going on.
Presently the cow shook her head, and the strap, which had been lodged on her horns, fell off. The man kicked it out of the way, but Joan picked it up and wound it round her waist like a belt. She wondered what the man was going to do to them, but she would not desert Wendy, so she followed close behind.
Soon they came to an open gate, not far from where the girls had first seen the cow. The animal walked inside and the man shut the gate and fastened it.
“Now you come along with me,” he said, and tramped on up the road.
It was very hot and very dusty, and Wendy and Joan began to feel thirsty and tired. It seemed a terribly long way; but at last they saw some farm buildings, and presently he took them through a gate and towards a big barn.
“In you go,” he said, pushing them both inside. “Now I’m going to fetch the police. Children like you ought to be stopped, letting people’s cows out all over the place!” And he shut the door with a bang.
Wendy sank down, sobbing, on the floor, and Joan crouched beside her, with one arm round her friend’s shoulders.
“Oh, dear! We shall go to prison, and then what will happen to us? Mummy and Daddy will think we’re lost. Oh, whatever shall we do!” sobbed poor Wendy.
“Did he hurt your arm?” asked Joan.
“No, it’s all right really, but he did hold tight,” said Wendy, with a sob and a hiccough. “Oh, Joan, whatever shall we do?”
“We’ll tell the policeman all about it,” said Joan. “Yes, but supposing he doesn’t fetch a policeman? Suppose he keeps us here till we starve to death?” moaned Wendy. “Oh, why ever did we come out on this crusade of yours, Joan!”
“I can’t think why it happened,” said Joan sorrowfully. “We were getting on so nicely.”
“He’s just a horrid man!” said Wendy with a sniff.
“Well, I can see his point of view a bit,” said Joan. “He thought we’d let his cow out and were trying to steal her. How was he to know we were bringing her home, when it looked as if we were taking her the wrong way?”
“Well, we told him,” said Wendy.
“Yes; but if we’d been real cow-thieves, we’d have said the same thing, wouldn’t we? People who steal always tell lies, too. So that’s what he thought. Don’t you understand?” said Joan.
“I don’t see why it happened at all. I don’t see why our Guardian Angels didn’t stop it,” said Wendy.
“I suppose we went wrong somewhere,” said Joan. “Mum says that if we’re naughty or disobedient or prideful, our ears get stopped up and we can’t hear the angels.”
“But we weren’t naughty or disobedient!” cried Wendy indignantly.
“Perhaps we were a bit prideful,” said Joan. “I remember thinking we were awfully clever about Mrs. Grumbleshanks. I think I said so, too.”
“We both did,” said Wendy, suddenly remembering. “Oh, dear — that’s where we went wrong! I remember now, saying that you were clever.”
“I said we both were, to have made her good in such a short time. That was wrong, Wendy. It was God who made her good, not us. We were simply puffed-up with pride, like two toads!” said Joan.
“I suppose we’d better tell God we’re sorry,” said Wendy, “and ask Him to help us. I’m sure that man means to leave us here to starve.”
“I know God wouldn’t let that happen,” said Joan stoutly. “Remember that the Lord Jesus loves little children, and He wouldn’t let the man starve us. Yes, let’s tell Him we’re sorry.”
So they knelt down and said, very simply, that they were sorry for their misdoings, and asked for help in their sad predicament.
Almost at once they heard a cautious bark.
“That was Pluto!” exclaimed Wendy.
“Where is he?” cried Joan.
“I don’t know!” said Wendy, and they both got up and hunted round the barn, but they could not find him.
They heard another soft bark, and then Wendy looked up, and there was the dog’s head peeping in through a tiny window, very high up.
“However did he get up there?” gasped Wendy.
“I don’t know, but I expect he’s showing us the way out,” said Joan. “If he could get up, we could get down, couldn’t we?”
“I should think so,” said Wendy. “But how are we going to get up to the window?”
“Climb!” said Joan valiantly. She began to look around, and presently crawled along a beam that led to another beam higher up, and was at last perched on a great big oak beam that ran right across the width of the barn.
“Is it safe?” asked Wendy.
“Yes, if you hold on tight,” said Joan. “Come along!” She unwound the strap that was round her waist, and held down the end for Wendy to grasp. Then she helped her friend up, until both were sitting on the big oak beam.
“Shuffle along sideways,” said Joan, and Wendy did so. When they reached another baulk of timber, one that ran upwards in a slanting direction, Joan lay flat on it and pulled herself up. Wendy shut her eyes and held on tightly, because it looked so dangerous, and then she heard Joan laugh.
“It’s quite easy. Come on, silly. Take hold of this strap, and just pull yourself along.”
Wendy did as she was told, and just as she was thinking that she couldn’t move another inch, she felt a warm, wet tongue on her face, and opened her eyes to see Pluto’s face smiling at her. She had got there!
“Now through the window — quickly!” snapped Joan, and Pluto moved back to make room.
Wendy held on tightly and peeped through the little opening. Just below it was a roof, and just below that another roof, and so on, ever lower and lower until the last was only a tiny jump on to the ground.
“Oh, good!” she cried joyously, and climbed through. Pluto led the way, Wendy followed him, and Joan brought up the rear. Down and down they went, jumping carefully from one roof to the next, until at last they were on the ground again. And then they ran and ran until they were out of breath. “Oh, what a wonderful escape!” cried Wendy, as they slowed up. “Jesus was helping us, I’m sure.”
“I’ll bet He sent Pluto to show us the way,” agreed Joan. “And now we’d better go back and collect our satchels. But I think we’ll take a short cut across the fields, then. I don’t really want to go past that farm again!”