clump⁷ of elderberry bushes hid them from the barn, but from the other side of the clump came the sound of conversation: the timid voice of the Little Prophet and the gruff tones of Cassius Came.

 

Rebecca was afraid to interrupt, and too honest to wish to overhear. She could only hope the man and the boy would pass on to the house as they talked, so she motioned to the paralyzed Thirza to take two more steps and stand with her behind the elderberry bushes. But no! In a moment they heard Mr. Came drag a stool over beside the grindstone as he said:

 

“Well, now Elisha Jeremiah, we'll talk about the red cow. You say you've drove her a month, do ye? And the trade between us was that if you could drive her a month, without her getting the rope over her foot and without bein' afraid, you was to have her. That's straight, ain't it?”

 

The Prophet's face burned with excitement, his gingham shirt rose and fell as if he were breathing hard, but he only nodded assent⁹ and said nothing.

 

“Now,” continued Mr. Came, “have you made out to keep the rope from under her feet?”

 

“She ain't got t-t-tangled up one s-single time,” said Elisha, stuttering in his excitement, but looking up with some courage from his bare toes, with which he was assiduously threading the grass.

 

“So far, so good. Now bout⁸ bein' afraid. As you seem so certain of gettin' the cow, I suppose you hain't been a speck¹⁰ scared, hev you? Honor bright, now!”

 

“I—I—not but just a little mite¹¹. I”—

 

“Hold up a minute. Of course you didn't SAY you was afraid, and didn't SHOW you was afraid, and nobody knew you WAS afraid, but that ain't the way we fixed¹² it up. You was to call the cow your'n if you could drive her to the pasture for a month without BEIN' afraid. Own up square now, hev you be'n afraid?”

 

A long pause, then a faint, “Yes.”

 

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