"Go on," urged Tattine; "Go on," urged Mabel, and Rudolph applied his sapling whip with might and main, but all to no effect.Meantime some geese from a neighboring farm had come sailing out into the ford, to have a look at their friends in the crate, and the geese in the crate, wild to be out on the water with their comrades, craned their long necks far out between the laths, and set up a tremendous squawking.It was rather a comical situation, and the children laughed till their sides ached, but after a while it ceased to be so funny.The clouds were rolling up blacker, and there was an occasional flash of lightning far off in the distance, but Barney stood still obdurate and unmoved, simply revelling in the sensation of the cool water, running down-stream against his four little donkey-legs.At last Rudolph was at his wits' end, for what did Tattine and Mabel do but commence to cry.Great drops of rain were falling now, and they COULD NOT BEAR THE THOUGHT of being mid-way in that stream with the storm breaking right above their heads, and when girls, little or big, young or old, cannot bear the thought of things they cry.It does not always help matters; it frequently makes them more difficult, but then again sometimes it does help a little, and this appeared to be one of those things, for when the girls' crying put Rudolph to his wits' end, he realized that there was just one thing left to try, and that was to jump overboard and try and pull Barney to land, since Barney would not pull him.So into the water he jumped, keeping the reins in his hand, and then, getting a little ahead of Barney, he began to walk and pull.Now fortunately, there is nothing like the force of example, which simply means that when Barney saw Rudolph walking and pulling he began to walk and pull too.

Meantime, while Patrick and his wife were thinking that the children had had plenty of time to reach home before the storm, there was great anxiety in the two homes where those three dear children lived.Patrick the coachman and Philip the groom had been sent with the wagonette by the main road to Patrick Kirk's--Patrick to bring the children and Philip to take charge of Barney, but as the children were coming home, or rather trying to come home, by the ford, of course they missed them.

All the while the storm was growing in violence, and suddenly for about five minutes great hailstones came beating down till the lawn was fairly white with them, and the panes of glass in the green-house roof at Oakdene cracked and broke beneath them."And those three blessed children are probably out in it all," thought Tattine's Mother, standing pale and trembling at her window, and watching the road which the wagonette would have to come.And then what did she see but Barney, trotting bravely up the hill, with the geese still craning their necks through the laths of the cage, but the reins dragging through the mud of the roadway, and with no children in the little cart.Close behind him came the wagonette, which Barney was cleverly managing to keep well ahead of, but Mrs.Gerald soon discovered that neither were the children in that either.

In an instant she was down the stairs and out on the porch to meet Patrick at the door.

"It isn't possible you have no word of the children?" she cried excitedly.

"Patrick Kirk says they started home by the ford in time to reach here an hour before the storm," gasped Patrick, "but we came back by the ford ourselves and not a sign have we seen of them, till Barney ran out of the woods ahead of us five minutes ago."And then a dreadful thought flashed through her mind.Could it be possible they had been drowned in the ford? But that moment her eyes saw something that made her heart leap for joy, something that looked drowned enough, but wasn't.

Rudolph was running up the hill as fast as his soaking clothing would let him, and, reaching the door breathless enough, he sank down on the floor of the porch.

"Oh, Mrs.Gerald," he said, as soon as he could catch his breath, "Mabel and Tattine are all right; they're safe in the log play-house at the Cornwells', but we've had an awful fright.Is Barney home? When the hail came I tied him to a tree and we ran into the log house, but he broke away the next minute and took to his heels and ran as fast as his legs could carry him.

Barney's an awful fraud, Mrs.Gerald."

But Mrs.Gerald had no time just then to give heed to Barney's misdoings.

Seizing a wrap from the hall, she ordered Rudolph into the house and to bed, as quickly as he could be gotten there, sent Philip to Rudolph's Mother with the word that the children were safe, and then started off in the wagonette to bring Mabel and Tattine home.

"Mamma," said Tattine, snuggling her wet little self close to her Mother's side in the carriage, "Rudolph was just splendid, the way he hauled Barnev and us and the cart out of the water, but Mamma, I am done with Barney now too.

He's not to be trusted either."

Mrs.Gerald thought of two or three things that might be urged in Barney's favor, but it did not seem kind even to attempt to reason with two such tired and soaking little specimens, so she only said, "Well, Barney can never again be trusted in the ford, that's one sure thing.""No, indeed," said Mabel warmly; "I would not give fifty cents for him.""You can have him for nothing," said Tattine, with a wan little smile; "after this he can never be trusted in anything."