. . .  While Cai and ’Bias stood at gaze, drinking it all in, Mrs Bosenna—­whose senses were always quick—­turned, looked behind her, and uttered a little scream.

“Steers! . . .  That Middlecoat’s steers—­they’ve broken fence again!  Oh—­oh! and whatever shall I do?”

Cai and ’Bias, wheeling about simultaneously, were aware of a small troop of horned cattle advancing towards them leisurably, breasting the golden rays on the stubble-field, and spreading as they advanced.

“Do, ma’am?” echoed ’Bias, taking in the situation at a glance.  “Why, turn ’em back, to be sure!” He started off to meet the herd.

“—­While you run for the stile,” added Cai, preparing to follow as bravely.  But Mrs Bosenna caught his arm.

“I’m—­I’m so silly,” she confessed in a tremulous whisper, “about horned beasts—­when they don’t belong to me.”

“Dangerous, are they?” asked Cai.  He lingered, although ’Bias had advanced some twenty paces to meet the herd, three or four of which had already come to a halt, astonished at being thus interrupted in an innocent ramble.  “We’ll head ’em off while you run.”

“No, no!” pleaded Mrs Bosenna; and Cai hung irresolute, for the pressure on his arm was delicious.  It crossed his mind for a moment that a lady so timid with cattle had no business to be dwelling alone at Rilla Farm.

“It’s different—­with my own cows,” gasped Mrs Bosenna, as if interpreting and answering this thought in one breath.  “I’m used to them—­but Mr Middlecoat will insist on keeping these wild beasts!—­ though he knows I’m a lone woman and they’re not to be held by any fences—­”

“I’d like to give that Middlecoat a piece of my mind,” growled Cai, and swore.  His arm by this time was about Mrs Bosenna’s waist, and she was yielding to it.  But he saw ’Bias still steadily confronting the herd—­ saw him lift an arm, a hand grasping a hat, and wave it violently—­saw thereupon the steers swing about and head back for the gate, heads down, sterns heaving and plunging.  Cai swore again and reluctantly loosened his embrace.

“Run, dear!” The word drummed in his ears as he pelted to ’Bias’s rescue.  ’Bias, as a matter of fact, needed neither rescue nor support.  The steers after spreading and scattering before his first onset, were converging again in a rush back upon the open gateway.  They charged through it in a panic, jostling, crushing through the narrow way:  and ’Bias, still frantically waving his hat, had charged through it after them before Cai, assured now that his friend had the mastery, halted and drew breath, holding a hand to his side.

’Bias had disappeared.  Cai heard his voice, at some little distance, still chivvying the steers down the lane beyond the gate. . . .  Then, as it seemed, another voice challenged ’Bias’s, and the two were meeting in angry altercation.

“Mr Middlecoat!” gasped a voice close behind him.  Cai swung about, and to his amazement confronted Mrs Bosenna.  Instead of retreating she had followed up the pursuit.