n T 
His memory, however, was poor, or his 
pugnacity was too strong for his discretion, 
for in an hour, if the boys came back and 
showed themselves above the bank, he was 
ready for another charge. Perhaps the 
foolish animal thought that some time he 
would be too quick for them. 
The 6quire had often watched this sport, 
and laughed at David’s recklessness and at 
his appearance as he plunged into the wa¬ 
ter and came forth with wet wool and dis^ 
gusted and wrathful aspect. 
One day the squire was in the barn-yard 
salting the cows. He had a half bushel 
measure in his hand, and as he looked over 
the fence into the sheep-pasture and saw 
David watching him, he held up the meas¬ 
ure and shook it at the old fellow. 
David gave a snort of defiance, and began 
to curb his neck and shake his head, as if 
challenging the squire to combat. 
“I wonder if I couldn’t trick the old fel¬ 
low in the same way that the boys fool 
him?” thought the deacon. He looked 
about the yard cautiously. His sons were 
not in sight, and he concluded he would 
have a laugh at David’s expense. Crawling 
through the fence, he reached the rock on 
which the boys stood in their encounters 
with David. The ram had not seen him. 
When the squire raised himself cautiously 
and looked over the bank, David was 
watching the barn-yard, and evidently 
wondering what had become of the man 
who had just challenged him. 
“Hi, David!” cried the squire, holding 
the half-bushel measure out before him as 
N a target for the sheep to aim at. “Hi, Da¬ 
vid!” 
David “hi-ed” at once. He gave a grand 
flourish, as if to say: “Look out there!” 
then charged. 
Uufortunately for the ’Squire, he was so 
excited over the fun that he forgot himself 
completely, and only thought about the 
half-bushel measure. Instead of dropping 
out of the sheep’s way, he swung the meas¬ 
ure on one side, in his excitement forget¬ 
ting that David always shut his eyes when 
he charged, and aimed for the object before 
him|when he closed them. The consequence 
was that the ram did not follow the meas¬ 
ure, but bolting straight for the place where 
he last saw it struck the poor ’Squire 
square in the stomach and he and David 
went over the bank and into the creek as 
if shot out of a cannon. 
“Wall, I snum!” sputtered the ’Squire, 
as he made his way to the bank. “I forgot 
all about dodging. I do b’leeve the old 
reprobate’s broke my stomach in, by the 
way it feels. You old rascal!” he screamed 
to David, whose air w T as one of victory, 
as he stood on the pasture-side of the fence, 
making defiant motions with his head at 
the deacon, who had clambered out of the 
water on the barnyard side; “I’d like to 
break your old neck! I shan’t get over this 
for a month, if ever I do. I -wouldn’t have 
been so bruised for five dollars. I’m glad 
the boys didn’t see me.” 
He made his way up the bank and 
towards the barn, under cover of the fence. 
He didn’t want any one at the house to see 
him in his wet clothes. As he opened the 
barn-door a broadside of laughter saluted 
his ears, from the haymow in the end of 
the barn towards the creek. He knew then 
that the boys’ hour of triumph had come. 
They had seen his discomfiture. 
“I say, father!” irreverently called out 
Tom, in a voice choked with laughter, 
“You didn’t scrooch quick enongh. Next 
time you’ll know better how to do it.” 
“What became of the half-bushel?” asked 
John, and Rob screamed: “Hi, David!” in 
such a way that notwithstanding his pain 
the squire was half-iuclined to laugh 
himself. 
“I—I acknowledge that David was too 
much for me that time,” said the squire, 
looking very red and foolish. “Laugh 
away, boys, if it does you any good. 
“What’s the price of hats?” asked John. 
“Well, but the joke wasn’t yours,” said 
the Squire. “But I’ll tell you what I’ll do. 
If you won’t say anything about this fool¬ 
ish affair, I’ll buy the hats, and give you a 
day's fishing any time you wish to take it.” 
“We agree! we agree!” cried the boys. 
But the story leaked out in some way, 
and the Squire had to endure a good deal 
of sly laughter Loin his fun-loving neigh¬ 
bors. But he never quite forgave old David, 
and although he did not say so, he had a 
feeling of unqualified satisfaction when he 
