I watched them go back up the road. At the big farm gate the cow made a break for the barnyard again, but the two men managed to turn her. Just beyond, at the fork in the road, I saw Bill turn down towards the cider-mill, while Jonathan kept on with his convoy over the hill. I glanced at the clock. It was not yet nine. There was plenty of time, of course. At half-past nine I went downstairs again, and wandered out toward the big gate. It seemed to me time for Jonathan to be back. In the Sunday hush I thought I heard sounds of distant "hi-ing." They grew louder; yes, surely, there was the cow, just appearing over the hill and trotting briskly along the road towards home. And there was Jonathan, also trotting briskly. He looked red and warm. I stepped out into the road to keep the cow from going past, but there was no need. She swung cheerfully in at the big gate, and fell to cropping the long grass just inside the fence. Jonathan slowed down beside me, and, pulling out his handkerchief, began flapping the dust off his trousers while he explained:-- "You see, I got her down there all right, but I had to let down the bars, and while I was doing that she went along the road a bit, and when she saw me coming she just kicked up her heels and galloped." "How did you stop her?" I asked. "I didn't. The Maxwells were coming along with their team, and they headed her back for me. Then they went on. Only by that time, you see, she was a bit excited, and when we came along back to those bars she shot right past them, and never stopped till she got here." I looked at her grazing quietly inside the fence. "She doesn't look as though she had done so much,"--and then, as I glanced at Jonathan, I could not forbear saying,--"but you do." "I suppose I do." He gave his trousers a last flick, and, putting up his handkerchief, shifted his stick to his right hand. "Well, put her back in the inner yard," I said, "and this afternoon I'll help you." "Put her back!" said Jonathan. "Not much! You don't think I'd let a cow beat me that way!" "But Jonathan, it's half-past nine!" "What of it? I'll just work her slowly--she's quiet now, you see, and the bars are open. There won't be any trouble." "Oh, I wish you wouldn't," I said. But, seeing he was firm, "Well, if you _will_ go, I'll harness." Jonathan looked at me ruefully. "That's too bad--you're all dressed." He wavered, but I would take no concessions based on feminine equipment. "Oh, that doesn't matter. I'll get my big apron. First you start her out, and I'll keep her from going towards the house or down to the mill."