“Someone has to stay home to give Colonel Flesher that Jersey calf,” said Mr. Meadows. “Since we are the only men around the place, it looks as if you’re elected.”

“O.K. I’ll stay. I don’t mind,” Jim answered cheerfully, if not too accurately. He did mind very much.

“I’m sure everything will be safe with you,” continued Mr. Meadows as he climbed in the car.

“Oh, I’ll take care of things,” said Jim nonchalantly.

He watched the car drive off. His father, mother and sister Jean were all going into town for the afternoon while he stayed at home alone. He felt rather proud that his father had called him a man, but that didn’t make up for the disappointment of not going with them. He went over to sit on the edge of the front porch, where he forlornly kicked his heels [2] against the lattice work. It was a beautiful spring day with a warm sun shining, but Jim was in no mood to appreciate the wonders of nature. His small brown face looked very mournful as he sat there feeling sorry for himself. Something exciting was certain to happen in town, and he would miss it. He wondered how long the family had been gone now. Jumping up, he ran inside the house and returned with a large gold watch.

“Quarter past one,” he said aloud. Doubtfully, he held the watch to his ear.

“Ticktock, ticktock,” came the answer.

It seemed impossible that it was only a quarter past one; it would be almost four hours before the family returned. Although it was a form of treason to doubt that watch, Jim peered through the kitchen door to compare it with the kitchen clock. The watch was right. It promised to be a long dismal afternoon.

To pass away the time he polished the gold case with his big red bandanna. The watch was his most prized possession; his father had given it to him on his twelfth birthday, almost eight months before. He wore it only on special occasions or when he was feeling sad, like today. Carefully he unscrewed the back and looked at the shiny works. The balance wheel was going back and forth quietly and faithfully. Jim polished the inside of the back cover and reread the inscription for the hundredth time. “To James Meadows from Elizabeth, June 7, 1884.” Over sixty years ago his grandmother had given that watch to his grandfather and it was still bright and shiny, and kept perfect time.

[3]
“I wish it would run a little faster this afternoon though,” said Jim, as he placed the watch in his overall watch pocket.

Feeling a tiny bit more cheerful, he walked toward the orchard fence. A gentle breeze was blowing toward him, bringing the delicate scent of apple blossoms. He leaned on the fence, inhaling deeply and gazing at the riot of blossoms in the orchard. When it is spring in southern Missouri, one must have a very deep sorrow to remain downhearted long. Jim, being young and normally very healthy, was recovering his spirits rapidly. He wrinkled his short nose and after inhaling the odor of apple blossoms again, decided that he would go closer to the trees. Now that no one was about he might even break off a sprig of blossoms. Having a healthy fear of appearing a sissy, he would never think of doing such a thing if his sister Jean were present. Flowers were for girls as far as he was concerned.

[4]
He was halfway across the orchard when he remembered the bull. The big red bull was Mr. Meadows’ pride and joy but Jim’s pet abomination. He was afraid of it and very reasonably so, as it was a mean-tempered animal. Feeling rather panicky, Jim turned to hurry back toward the gate. It was too late. Unnoticed, the bull had slipped behind him and was now blocking the way. The big animal was standing very quietly, looking straight at Jim. There was a wicked look in the bloodshot eyes that indicated plainly that he had no intention of remaining quiet long.

With a sinking sensation in his stomach, Jim looked around frantically, trying to figure which fence was the closest. It was rather a tossup as to distance. Choosing the fence bordering the road as being the easiest to climb, he began backing cautiously toward it, keeping his eyes on the hostile bull.

As Jim made up his mind which way to move, so did the bull. He snorted several times, pawed the ground ferociously, lowered his head and charged toward the boy. The powerful feet dug into the soft ground as the big body gathered speed in a ponderous rush. Jim knew he would never make the fence in time. He was frightened, but not too frightened to think. Once the huge bull was up to top speed he couldn’t change direction quickly. As the thundering feet drew dangerously close, the boy darted quickly to the right and ducked behind the nearest apple tree.

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