els, he caught enough of a glimpse of the
object to make out that it was a quadruped instead of a biped.

This was a great relief, though it did not remove all fear, for he was
not in form to meet any of the wild beasts that one was liable to run
against at any time. The next minute, he broke into a hearty laugh, for
that which he saw was the lost cow, quietly browsing on the tender
herbs, as though just turned loose by her owner.

"Well, that is funny," said the youth, walking hastily toward her; "this
proves that I was right. You are a pretty one, old Brindle, to lead us
on such a chase!"

The cow, hearing the voice and footsteps, stopped cropping, and with her
motionless jaws dripping with leaves and buds, started at Fred as if she
wasn't sure of his identity. She knew enough, however, to see that he
was a friend, and so resumed her feeding.

Assuring himself that she was the estray, Fred looked at her bag to see
the condition of that. It was only moderately full, proving that she had
been milked later even than the preceding night.

Fred Linden had approached close enough to place his hand on the
handsome creature, when he noticed--what indeed he knew before--the bell
was not fastened to her neck; that explained why, after hearing the
sound, it was heard no more.

"The cord has broken just after the tinkle, and let the bell fall to the
ground; no wonder that it was not heard again. Some one has been kind
enough to give Brindle a milking."

The words were yet in the mouth of Fred when he received a shock that
for a moment held him speechless; a long distance to the right he
caught the sound of the cow-bell!

It was precisely the same that he and his friend had noticed, and since
the bell of Brindle was gone, there could be but one meaning to the
signal; it was made by some one for the purpose of drawing the boys into
a trap.

Without pausing to think over the dozen questions that came with this
conclusion, Fred set off at the most hurried pace possible to warn his
friend of his peril.

"He has no suspicion of any thing wrong, and is sure to do the very
thing that he ought not to do."

Fred Linden was right in this conclusion. It can be readily understood,
why no thought of peril should enter the brain of the Irish lad, who was
never so sure that he was right and Fred wrong when the two parted to
take different routes in search of the cow.

"It's a bright lad--is Fred," said Terry, "but there isn't any