Meanwhile, the witnesses of the rural wedding had all skedaddled--to borrow a Greek word--into the woods, in dire confusion, tearing dresses, pulling down 'back hair,' hitching hoop skirts, and tumbling over blackberry vines--but each intent on increasing the distance from the mad cow. Ann Harriet was not so fortunate; her size prevented her running, and a fiery peony on her bosom attracted the animal's attention, so that, with a loud roar, the beast rushed directly upon her. Had Ann Harriet been--as she was a few weeks before--an unprotected female, the undertaker of Peonytown would have had a 'big job' that day; but luckily, he who had just sworn to love and protect her saw that now was his time and chance to begin; so, drawing his sword, he stepped in front of his trembling bride, and, as the cow approached with head down and eyeballs glaring wildly, he aimed a blow with his weapon, which inflicted a severe cut on her nose. The cow paused. 'Step backward gradually, my Ann Harriet,' said the valiant Dobbs, 'and I will see that she does not touch you.' Ann Harriet stepped backward, but not 'gradually,' for she trod on a loose stone, which upset her, and she rolled over and over down a sloping rock, ruining, on the way, any quantity of huckleberry bushes and pennyroyal. This started the cow, who made another furious charge at the soldier, who this time, by a well-directed blow, cut one horn sheer off. 'That's good!' exclaimed he; 'next time I'll take t'other horn, and then commence on her legs.' The cow made another retreat, but appeared by no means vanquished. The Captain stood his ground manfully. Ann Harriet sat on the moss at the foot of the rock, disentangling from her hair the bruised and mangled caterpillars which still remained there. Just as the cow was about to make her third charge, shouts were heard in the path which led to the village, and in a moment 'Extinguisher No. 1,' with its brave volunteers, was on the ground. They had followed the directions of the parson and arrived at an opportune moment. The boys at once decided that, as there was no fire to put out, they would 'put out' the cow; so, unreeling the hose, they drew the water from the brook, and in a very little while a stream of water from a two-inch pipe struck the astonished cow full in the face, when she turned and scampered off into the forest, jumping over Ann Harriet at a single bound, and was seen no more. Captain Dobbs wiped his gory weapon on the greensward, and returned it to the sheath. He then sprang to the side of his wife, and, with the help of the foreman and two brakemen, raised her. She said her nerves were all unstrung, and she 'never could walk home in the world;' so she was placed on the box of the hose carriage and carried to the village. The Peonytowners turned out _en masse_ to meet them, and were anxious that the heroic Captain should make a speech from the town pump; but he declined.