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Keep it away " His voice gave out and he buried his head in his hands and rolled upon the gaudy carpet. And now they all heard what he had heard first they heard the tonk-tonk-tonk of a cowbell, coming near and nearer toward them along the hallway without. It was as though the sound floated along.
And what did happen will be told in another book, to be called, "Dorothy Dale's School Rivals," in which we shall learn the particulars of some stirring doings at Glenwood Academy. "All the same," declared Tavia, a little sheepishly, "I don't believe it pays to try to keep Dorothy out when there's a question of " "Common sense," finished Cologne. "There's the cowbell.
"All the same, when the Swiss sentry passes, speak to him and hold him while I get my ladder." "At your orders, Captain." "Listen. I am going over. When I return I shall leave with you a reel of wire and a cowbell. You comprehend? I do not wish anybody else to cross the French wire to-night." "C'est bien, mon Capitaine." Recklow went down into the bushy gulley.
The milking stopped, a cowbell tinkled as the cow turned her inquiring face, and a girl's light-brown head of hair was thrust out of the doorway soon followed by the girl herself, slender, eighteen, red-cheeked, fresh and smiling. "Good evening," said Peer, stretching out his hand.
Kay McKay and Evelyn Erith had been gone for nearly an hour; but Recklow still sat there at the little green table, an unlighted cigarette in his muscular fingers, his head slightly bent as though listening. Once he rose as though on some impulse, went into the house, took a roll of fine wire, a small cowbell, a heavy pair of wire clippers and a pocket torch from his desk and pocketed them.
"But, suh, squire, it wasn't no cow at all. No, suh; it was a buzzard with a cowbell on his neck that's whut it was. Yes, suh; that there same old Belled Buzzard he's come back agin and is hangin' round. They tell me he ain't been seen round here since the year of the yellow fever I don't remember myself, but that's whut they tell me.
The tinkle of a cowbell broke the stillness. In her dreams the Swiss girl was reminded of her own cherished uplands, where in the festive cheese-making time she had gathered with other maids and youths and danced to the music of the zither. Zither, did she say? But, had she been dreaming then, all the while? Was not that a zither now mingling its fairy music with the notes of the cow bell?
Surely man cannot live near this place but the tinkle of a cowbell comes faintly on the gentle stirring breeze and our illusion is dispelled, the charm is broken. But even to-day, when we push the punt through the reeds from the clear river into the narrow, tortuous channel of the marsh, we have left civilisation behind us.
Every now and then the fad of a new trick puzzle a few bits of twisted wire, or a stick and a string will as effectually occupy the time of an entire community as a cowbell will take up the undivided attention of a cur, if the bell is hitched to the cur's tail. The folks of Egypt had a couple of brain-twisters to solve. What had happened to Tasper Britt?
Many a day in those sunny springtimes when she still ran wild with Johanna had she held taunting parley with those two crystal love-notes, and now she straightened to her best height, pursed her lips, whistled back the brave octave, and listened again. A distant cowbell tinkled from some willows in another meadow across the river, a breeze moved audibly by, and then the answer came.
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