“He’ll be taught to fence and box by and by, and till then I think he will do very well without any lessons in mauling. Go and wash your faces; and remember, Dan, if you break any more of the rules again, you will be sent away. That was the bargain; do your part and we will do ours.”
The lads went off, and after a few more words to the spectators, Mr. Bhaer followed to bind up the wounds of the young gladiators. Emil went to bed sick, and Dan was an unpleasant spectacle for a week.
But the lawless lad had no thought of obeying, and soon transgressed again.
On Saturday afternoon as a party of the boys went out to play, Tommy said,--
“Let’s go down to the river, and cut a lot of new fish-poles.”
“Take Toby to drag them back, and one of us can ride him down,” proposed Stuffy, who hated to walk.
“That means _you_, I suppose; well, hurry up, lazy-bones,” said Dan.
Away they went, and having got the poles were about to go home, when Demi unluckily said to Tommy, who was on Toby with a long rod in his hand,--
“You look like the picture of the man in the bull-fight, only you haven’t got a red cloth, or pretty clothes on.”
“I’d like to see one; wouldn’t you?” said Tommy, shaking his lance.
“Let’s have one; there’s old Buttercup in the big meadow, ride at her, Tom, and see her run,” proposed Dan, bent on mischief.
“No, you mustn’t,” began Demi, who was learning to distrust Dan’s propositions.
“Why not, little fuss-button?” demanded Dan.
“I don’t think Uncle Fritz would like it.”
“Did he ever say we must not have a bull-fight?”
“No, I don’t think he ever did,” admitted Demi.
“Then hold your tongue. Drive on, Tom, and here’s a red rag to flap at the old thing. I’ll help you to stir her up,” and over the wall went Dan, full of the new game, and the rest followed like a flock of sheep; even Demi, who sat upon the bars, and watched the fun with interest.
Poor Buttercup was not in a very good mood, for she had been lately bereft of her calf, and mourned for the little thing most dismally. Just now she regarded all mankind as her enemies (and I do not blame her), so when the matadore came prancing towards her with the red handkerchief flying at the end of his long lance, she threw up her head, and gave a most appropriate “Moo!” Tommy rode gallantly at her, and Toby, recognizing an old friend, was quite willing to approach; but when the lance came down on her back with a loud whack, both cow and donkey were surprised and disgusted. Toby backed with a bray of remonstrance, and Buttercup lowered her horns angrily.