hed contemptuously. "Why, any stupid could do that!" he said
loftily. "Farmer Minards himself could walk there!"

"That just shows how much you know," said Muggridge, with an air of great
knowingness. "It wouldn't bear me, and I ain't what you would call
heavy."

"You are afraid, that's all," said Paul rudely.

For a moment Muggridge looked angry too. "I ain't feared," he said after
a pause, "but I've got too much sense. I can't afford to spoil a pair of
boots, and I doubt if any one would take the trouble to haul me out; but
if they did--why, maister'd give me the sack before the mud had stopped
running off me."

Paul laughed derisively. "It's easy enough to make excuses," he said,
beginning to scramble down from the cart. "You are afraid, that's what it
is, but I'll just show you I am not," and, paying no heed to Muggridge's
call, he ran lightly round outside the hurdles. To his surprise the
ground was almost hard. The man had placed the hurdles further out than
Muggridge had thought, but Paul did not let him know that. The very
spirit of bravado and mischief seemed to fill him as he mocked at his
companion, and then, with a sudden mad impulse, he climbed over and
attempted to run around inside. But here matters were different; the
ground was soft and slimy, his feet stuck and began to sink; he tried to
run lightly, but 'twas no good, and he clung to the hurdles in real fear.
Muggridge, too, was alarmed. He realised suddenly that he was responsible
for the young master's safety, that he had taunted him into his foolhardy
action, and that the episode would not make a pleasant story for either of
them to tell.

Springing out of the cart he ran to Paul's help, and had him out of the
morass and in safety in less time than it takes to tell it. Both were so
alarmed now that all thought of their quarrel had vanished from their
minds. They were grateful that they were safe and the episode had ended
as easily as it had; but their joy was short lived, for at the sight of
Paul's boots they looked at each other with grave faces and frightened
eyes. What was to be done? The state of them was bound to be noticed,
for the weather was fine and dry, Muggridge scraped off what he could with
bits of stick, and tufts of grass, but his efforts were not very
successful, for the mud was thick and clinging, and Paul clambered back
into the cart with a very, very heavy heart. He did not gloss over to
himself the wrongful