dyface, the old mother cat, had gravely
walked down the path to the street gate. She was quite oblivious of the
presence, just outside, of Jock, who crouched with the very tip of his
red tongue poked out and looking just as amiable as it is ever possible
for a bulldog to look.

Suddenly Jock spied Sandyface. The dog was instantly all
attention--quivering muzzle, twitching ears, sides heaving, even his
abbreviated tail vibrating with delighted anticipation. Jock considered
cats his rightful prey, and Sammy was not the master to teach him
better.

The dog sprang for the gate, and it swung open. Sandyface saw her enemy
while he was in midair.

She flew across the backyard to the big pear-tree. Jock was right behind
her, his tongue lolling out and the joy of the chase strongly exhibited
in his speaking countenance.

In his usual foolish fashion, the bulldog tried to climb the tree after
the cat. Jock could never seem to learn that he was not fitted by nature
for such exploits, and wherever the game led, he tried to follow.

His interest being so completely centered in Sandyface and his attempt
to get her, peril in the rear never crossed Jock's doggish mind.

Old Billy Bumps uttered a challenging "blat" almost upon the tail of
Sammy's shout; then he started headlong for his ancient enemy. He gave
his lady passengers no time to disembark, but charged across the yard,
head down, and aimed directly at the leaping bulldog.

The latter, quite unconscious of impending peril, continued to try to
catch Sandyface, who looked down upon his foolish gyrations from a
branch near the top of the tree. Perhaps she divined what was about to
happen to the naughty Jock, for she did not even meow!

CHAPTER XXII

MR. SORBER

Tess had presence of mind enough to holloa "Whoa!" and she kept right on
saying it. Usually it was effective, but on this occasion Billy Bumps
was deaf to his little mistress.

Dot clung to Tess's shoulders and screamed. There was really nothing
else for her to do.

Sammy had grabbed at the goat's horns and was promptly overthrown. They
left him roaring on his back upon the brick walk, while the goat tore
on, dragging the bumping wagon behind him.

Billy Bumps had not earned his name without reason. Having taken aim at
the bulldog jumping up and down against the trunk of the pear tree,
nothing but a solid wall could have stopped him.

There was a crash as one forward wheel of the cart went over a st