I heard the sound of a low, rumbling bellow approaching through the trees, and as I looked up I saw, coming forward with a certain confidence, Sir Jonas, the red Sheraton bull, with a ring in his nose, and in his carriage an intense haughtiness for one so young.

I knew all about Sir Jonas, for we had bred him on our farm, and sold him not long since to the Sheratons.
Miss Grace gathered her skirts for instant flight, but I quickly pushed her down.

I knew the nature of Sir Jonas very well, and saw that flight would mean disaster long before she could reach any place of safety.
"Keep quiet," I said to her in a low voice.

"Don't make any quick motions, or he'll charge.

Come with me, slowly now." Very pale, and with eyes staring at the intruder, she arose as I bade her and slowly moved toward the tree which I had in mind.