"Don't you ever say a word about our running from the sleigh," Tom
cautioned me many times that day, and added that he would never have run
except for my bad example.
I was obliged to put up in silence with that reflection on my bravery.
CHAPTER IX
THE LOST OXEN
It was now approaching time to tap the maples again; but owing to the
disaster which had befallen our effort to make maple syrup for profit
the previous spring, neither Addison nor myself felt much inclination to
undertake it. The matter was talked over at the breakfast table one
morning and noting our lukewarmness on the subject, the old Squire
remarked that as the sugar lot had been tapped steadily every spring for
twenty years or more, it would be quite as well perhaps to give the
maples a rest for one season.
That same morning, too, Tom Edwards came over in haste to tell us, with
a very sober face, that their oxen had disappeared mysteriously, and ask
us to join in the search to find them. They were a yoke of "sparked"
oxen--red and white in contrasting patches. Each had wide-spread horns
and a "star" in his face. Bright and Broad were their names, and they
were eight years old.
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