Miracles on Maple Hill (Harcourt Young Classics) by Virginia Sorensen Page B
Authors: Virginia Sorensen
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Suddenly she heard something and looked up. It sounded like buffalo running in a herd, just the way they ran in the movies, pounding all together ... But here, for goodness' sakes, there weren't any buffalo.
Then she saw them coming. Not buffalo. Just cows, young white-faced cows in a great crowd. And they were coming straight for her!
She dropped the flowers and started to make for the fence, but her feet went in. There wasn't time to search for the dry grassy places now. She splashed. Her feet sank at every step. She heard herself cry out and could hear her own breathing. She felt one shoe come off, deep in the mud. And then she stood on a little island of grass, too scared to move another step.
The cows had come pounding up to the very edge of the little swamp. There they brought up suddenly, all together. The ones in back pushed up into the front row to stare at her. They stood looking and looking, the whole big bunch of them, with round, wide eyes.
She stared back at them. They didn't move, except sometimes to toss their heads as if they were angry at her for being in a place where she didn't belong. Did cows object to people who picked their flowers? she wondered. Come to think of it, she had heard of yellow flowers called
cowslips;
maybe this was their special flower.
"Git! Go away!" she cried and waved her arms at them.
They looked at each other in a kind of amazement and then back at her. But they didn't move away. They only moved a little closer.
"Git!" she cried, the way she had always done to nippy dogs who chased her on her bicycle. She took one careful step toward the fence, and the whole long row of them began moving again. How in the world was she ever going to get back over that fence? It seemed a mile away, and those cows didn't seem to want her to get there. The ends of the row moved in a little, so she stood in the center of their wide half-circle. Their eyes were like footlights, and she was right in the very middle of the stage.
Another careful step, and they all moved again. One spoke to her in a low voice. "Moooo
ooooooo!
"
She began to talk to herself, saying, "They're not mean little cows at all. They're just
curious.
"
But the reason she said it was because she really wasn't sure. They could just close in, if they wanted to, and tramp her under. Nobody would ever know where she had disappeared. Great, long shivers began to go over her from her head to her heels.
Oh, Joe!
she thought.
If only he were here now!
Once Joe had been with her when a cow came running over a field, and he just stood still and faced her, as brave as could be. And she stopped and mooed at him. He said, "I'll keep her interested while you get away, Marly." And he did. When she was over the fence, she turned around to see what he'd do to escape himself, and he had walked right straight up to that cow and was rubbing her long nose!
She would as soon have touched a lion.
But these cows were lots littler than that other one. They weren't much more than calves, she knew. But there were so many of them, and whatever one did, all the rest hurried to do it, too. One shook its head, and so did all the others. One took a step, and every single one of them took a step.
She tried another hummock. It was firm under her foot. But every cow moved as she took that one step. She could practically feel them breathing. How huge and steady and unblinking were their eyes!
I'll never go anywhere without Joe again,
she thought,
or without Mother, or Daddy, or Mr. Chris.
Then the horrible thought came that maybe she would never go anywhere again at all, with or without anybody. All the rest of time she would just be stuck in this terrible swamp...
"Git! Go away!" she cried again, and shook both her arms at them.
"Mooooo!" one said, and lifted its nose as it spoke as if making a signal to somebody far off. It tossed its head. Every cow in the circle tossed its head then and said, "Mooooo!" It was terrible.
"Please let me get to the
Then she saw them coming. Not buffalo. Just cows, young white-faced cows in a great crowd. And they were coming straight for her!
She dropped the flowers and started to make for the fence, but her feet went in. There wasn't time to search for the dry grassy places now. She splashed. Her feet sank at every step. She heard herself cry out and could hear her own breathing. She felt one shoe come off, deep in the mud. And then she stood on a little island of grass, too scared to move another step.
The cows had come pounding up to the very edge of the little swamp. There they brought up suddenly, all together. The ones in back pushed up into the front row to stare at her. They stood looking and looking, the whole big bunch of them, with round, wide eyes.
She stared back at them. They didn't move, except sometimes to toss their heads as if they were angry at her for being in a place where she didn't belong. Did cows object to people who picked their flowers? she wondered. Come to think of it, she had heard of yellow flowers called
cowslips;
maybe this was their special flower.
"Git! Go away!" she cried and waved her arms at them.
They looked at each other in a kind of amazement and then back at her. But they didn't move away. They only moved a little closer.
"Git!" she cried, the way she had always done to nippy dogs who chased her on her bicycle. She took one careful step toward the fence, and the whole long row of them began moving again. How in the world was she ever going to get back over that fence? It seemed a mile away, and those cows didn't seem to want her to get there. The ends of the row moved in a little, so she stood in the center of their wide half-circle. Their eyes were like footlights, and she was right in the very middle of the stage.
Another careful step, and they all moved again. One spoke to her in a low voice. "Moooo
ooooooo!
"
She began to talk to herself, saying, "They're not mean little cows at all. They're just
curious.
"
But the reason she said it was because she really wasn't sure. They could just close in, if they wanted to, and tramp her under. Nobody would ever know where she had disappeared. Great, long shivers began to go over her from her head to her heels.
Oh, Joe!
she thought.
If only he were here now!
Once Joe had been with her when a cow came running over a field, and he just stood still and faced her, as brave as could be. And she stopped and mooed at him. He said, "I'll keep her interested while you get away, Marly." And he did. When she was over the fence, she turned around to see what he'd do to escape himself, and he had walked right straight up to that cow and was rubbing her long nose!
She would as soon have touched a lion.
But these cows were lots littler than that other one. They weren't much more than calves, she knew. But there were so many of them, and whatever one did, all the rest hurried to do it, too. One shook its head, and so did all the others. One took a step, and every single one of them took a step.
She tried another hummock. It was firm under her foot. But every cow moved as she took that one step. She could practically feel them breathing. How huge and steady and unblinking were their eyes!
I'll never go anywhere without Joe again,
she thought,
or without Mother, or Daddy, or Mr. Chris.
Then the horrible thought came that maybe she would never go anywhere again at all, with or without anybody. All the rest of time she would just be stuck in this terrible swamp...
"Git! Go away!" she cried again, and shook both her arms at them.
"Mooooo!" one said, and lifted its nose as it spoke as if making a signal to somebody far off. It tossed its head. Every cow in the circle tossed its head then and said, "Mooooo!" It was terrible.
"Please let me get to the
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