She could not find it in her heart to
toss it straight down to Sir Jonas, who would have trampled it at once,
so she cast it sidelong toward me, and inch by inch I beat Sir Jonas in
the race to it. Then I resolved that he should not have it at all, and
so tossed it into the branches of another tree as I ran.
"Come," called the girl to me, "jump! Get up into a tree. He can't catch
you there."
But I was in no mind to take to a tree, and wait for some inglorious
discovery by a rescue party from the house. I found my fighting blood
rising, and became of the mind to show Sir Jonas who was his master,
regardless of who might be his owner.
His youth kept him in good wind still, and he charged me again and
again, keeping me hard put to it to find trees enough, even in an
orchard full of trees. Once he ripped the bark half off a big trunk as I
sprang behind it, and he stood with his head still pressed there, not
two feet from where I was, with my hand against the tree, braced for a
sudden spring. His front foot dug in the sod, his eyes were red, and
between his grumbles his breath came in puffs and snorts of anger.
Evidently he meant me ill, and this thought offended me.
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