He tossed up his head then and bolted for the tree where Miss Grace had her refuge.

Then I saw it was the red lining of her Parisian parasol which had enraged him.

"Throw it down!" I called out to her.

She could not find it in her heart to toss it straight down to Sir Jonas, who would have trampled it at once, so she cast it sidelong toward me, and inch by inch I beat Sir Jonas in the race to it.

Then I resolved that he should not have it at all, and so tossed it into the branches of another tree as I ran.
"Come," called the girl to me, "jump! Get up into a tree.