"Coming!" called a big voice, and over the fence corner sprang Peter Apgar, a pitchfork in his hand. He had been gathering up the loose hay left along the edge of the field after the hayloader had gathered the main crop.
After Peter came Spotty, who met the bull just as that cross animal's nose appeared at the gap in the fence. Indeed, Spotty met him so suddenly that both grunted.
"I'll turn him. You stay back here out of sight," commanded Peter, running past the four little Blossoms.
The children were very glad to stay huddled behind the bushes, but they couldn't help peeping out now and then to see what Peter and Spotty were doing with the bull.
"Woof, woof!" barked Spotty.
"You will, will you?" shouted Peter.
He jabbed the bull with the pitchfork, and that surprised beast turned with a bellow. Holding the pitchfork so that it would not hurt him unless he tried to come at him, Peter forced the bull back through the fence, and then he and Spotty drove him across the field.
