Sometimes the bull would withdraw some distance back into the field. At such times the man would wade along near shore until quite a ways above or below the animal. Then he would make a dash, hoping to fool the beast, but every time the bull heard him and came down with a rush.
The boys were now near enough to hear the man addressing the bull in no gentle tones. The prisoner in the water did not appear to notice the boat.
“Consarn your black hide!” he exclaimed. “Let me git out of this cold water, will ye? By Heck! Th’ next time I try t’ put a ring in your nose you’ll know it. Come now, Stonewall Jackson, let me out, will ye?”
But the bull seemed to have some grudge against the farmer for it lowered its horns and gave an angry bellow.
“If ever I git out of here I’ll hobble ye so’s ye can’t move, ye onery black critter!” the farmer went on. “I’ll whale ye till ye’ll wish ye’d behaved yerself, that’s what!”
This time the bull had gone back up the field and was browsing the grass. The farmer cautiously waded down stream and made a dash for shore. The bull heard him and came down so fast that its momentum carried it several feet into the river before it could stop. Meanwhile the farmer had hurried deeper into the stream, splashing the water all over himself in his haste.
“If I had a gun I’d shoot ye!” he yelled, shaking his fist at the bull.
“Can’t you swim to the other side?” asked Ned, as the boat came near.
The farmer looked around in surprise. He had been so engrossed by his contest with the bull he had not heard the craft approaching.