Mary-'Gusta stood still no longer. The sight of her idolized pet running
for his life was enough to make her forget fright and everything else.
She too ran, but not toward home.

"David!" she screamed. "Oh, David! Come here! David!"

David may have recognized the voice, but if so the recognition made no
difference. The cat kept straight on. The girl ran across its path.
It dodged and darted into a beachplum thicket, a cul-de-sac of tangled
branches and thick grass. Before the animal could extricate itself
Mary-'Gusta had seized it in her arms. It struggled and fought for
freedom but the child held it tight.

"David!" she panted. "Oh, don't, David! Please be still! They shan't
hurt you; I won't let 'em. Please!"

Through the bushes above the wall appeared the freckled face of
Con--christened Cornelius--Bacheldor. Con was Jimmie's elder brother.

"He must have got through," he shouted. "He--no, there he is. She's got
him, Pop. Make her put him down."

Mr. Abner Bacheldor crashed through to his son's side. He was carrying a
gun.

"You put that cat down," screamed Con, threateningly.

Mary-'Gusta said nothing. Her heart was beating wildly but she held the
struggling David fast.