Half-Past Seven Stories | Page 3

and once or twice he had seen it almost as
purple as a pansy.
But it was Fall now, and the hill had turned brown. Over it he could see
little figures moving. He looked at them very carefully, with one eye
shut to see them the better. Then he decided that the bigger ones were
men on horses, the little ones dogs. They all looked tiny because they
were so far away.
As they came nearer and the sun shone on them, he was pretty sure the
men had red coats. Could they be _soldiers_?
Just then the Toyman came by, with coils of wire and clippers in his
hand. He was on his way to mend the fence in the North Pasture.
"'Llo Toyman!" said Marmaduke.
"Howdy, little fellow!" replied the Toyman, "what are you doing there?
Settin' on the top of the world and enjoyin' yourself?"
"I was wondering what those men over there were doing." And the boy
waved his hand towards the little black figures on the hill.
"Why, that's the hunt," explained the Toyman. "The rich folks, having
nothing better to do, are killin' time."
Marmaduke was puzzled.
"Are they really hunting _Time_?" he asked. "I thought maybe they
were hunting lions or tigers."
"No, not today," the Toyman responded, "I'm sorry to disappoint you,
but they're only after Reddy."
"Reddy Toms?" the little boy exclaimed. "_Why, whatever did he
do?_"
Now Reddy Toms was a boy in his own class, and you could always

tell him a long way off because his head was covered with red hair as
thick as a thatched roof, and his face was spotted all over, like a snake's,
with freckles.
However, the Toyman said it was all a mistake.
"No, not that tad," he explained, "it's Reddy Fox they're after."
"What!" exclaimed Marmaduke. "Does it take all those big men to hunt
one little fox?"
"It seems so, son," the Toyman returned, "but that's the way of the
world."
"Well, I think it's mean," insisted Marmaduke. "Those men are nothing'
but--but--dumbbells!"
The Toyman threw back his head and laughed. That was a new
expression to him, but it was a perfectly good one. You see, the big
boys in school used it when they thought anyone was particularly
stupid or mean. But the Toyman must have understood it anyway, for
he went on,--
"That's my sentiments exactly. I don't suppose they mean to be cruel,
but they don't give little Reddy half a chance--and he's so small! Now if
it was lions or tigers, as you suggest, why, that would be different."
"You bet it would!" Marmaduke replied. "I just wish it was." Now, of
course, he should have said "were," as the teacher in the Red
Schoolhouse was forever telling him, but a little boy can't always
remember correct English when a hunt is coming so close.
"Just set tight, boy, and you'll see their red coats soon."
And, waving his clippers, the Toyman went on his way to the North
Pasture.
But Marmaduke didn't need any advice. He had spotted those red coats
already. They were much nearer now, for they rode very fast. Already

the horses were leaping the fence of the Miller Farm, and the dogs were
crisscrossing over the field, making lots of letter W's as they
ran--hundreds of them, Marmaduke was sure. And they followed
something--something so small he could hardly see what it was. But he
guessed it must be Reddy.
So many fences they leaped, and so many stone walls! Now they were
near the Brook, and yes, he could see the red coats, very bright and
plain now.
And then he spied Reddy. His coat wasn't as gay as those the men wore.
Theirs were bright like cherries, and his was the color of chestnuts. It
seemed such a shame to want his poor little coat when the men had
such nice ones themselves.
"Cracky!" he exclaimed. One of the "ole hunters" had fallen in the
Brook. And Marmaduke hoped that red coat would get soaked and
soaked and run like the stockings Mother had bought from the pedlar.
And he hoped that "ole hunter" would get wet to the skin, and shiver
and shiver, and have to call in the doctor who'd prescribe the very worst
medicine there was in the world. It would serve that "ole hunter" right
if he'd almost die. But Marmaduke hoped the poor horse wouldn't break
his leg. It wasn't the horses' fault they were chasing Reddy.
Now the hunters were lost in Jake Miller's Woods. All he could see
were patches of red, here and there, in the bushes, but he heard the deep
voices of the dogs, all the time, calling and calling.
Then all-of-a-sudden something happened. And Marmaduke liked
all-of-a-sudden things