indeed, who was there to hear if she did cry? She sat still on her rock,
her hands clasped together, her eyes, wide with terror, fixed on the
enemy.

The leader of the herd met her gaze with one which to her excited fancy
seemed threatening and sinister. For a moment he stood motionless; then,
tossing his head with its gleaming horns, and uttering another loud
snort, he took a step toward her; the rest followed. Another step and
another. Margaret glanced wildly around her. On one side was the
precipice, on either hand a wide stretch of open meadow; no hope of
escape. She must meet her death here, then, alone, with no human eye to
see, no human hand to help her in her extremity. She crouched down on
the rock, and covered her eyes with her hands. The cattle drew nearer.
Snuffing the air, tossing their horns, with outstretched necks and eager
eyes, step by step they advanced. Now they were close about her, their
giant forms blocking the sunlight, their gleaming eyes fixed upon her.
Margaret felt her senses deserting her; but suddenly--hark! another
sound fell on her ear; a sound clear, resonant, jubilant; the sound of a
human voice, singing:

"I'm an honest lad, though I be poor,
And I niver was in love afore--"

"_Gerald!_" cried Margaret. "Gerald, help!" and she dropped quietly off
the rock, under the very feet of the black cattle.

When she came to herself, she was propped against the rock, and Gerald
was fanning her with his cap and gazing at her with eyes of anxiety and
tenderness, which yet had a twinkle in their depths.

"Better?" he asked, as he had asked once before under somewhat similar
circumstances. "Do say you are better, please! The house isn't on fire
this time, and neither is the Thames."

Margaret struggled into a sitting posture. "Oh! Gerald," she said, "I am
so ashamed! You will think I am always fainting, and, indeed, I never
have in all my life except these two times. But they were so
terrible--ah! there they are still."

Indeed, the herd of cattle was standing near, still gazing with gleaming
eyes; but, somehow, the look of ferocity was gone. She could even
see--with Gerald beside her--that they were noble-looking creatures.

"Oh, no!" said Gerald. "Don't call them terrible; you will hurt their
poor old feelings. I know them of old, Horatio; fellows of infinite
jest."

"Are they--are they tame?" asked Margaret, in amazement.

"Tame? I should say so. Look at this fellow!