“Will ye?” asked the farmer. “That’ll be th’ thing. I’ll fool th’ savage critter. This is where I git ahead of ye, Stonewall Jackson,” he added, shaking his fist again at the bull.
“Is that his name?” asked Ned.
“I named him that about an hour ago,” the farmer said. “He was wuss than a stone wall for me, th’ way he kept me from gittin’ out of th’ river. ’Fore that his name was jest plain William.”
“Named after any one?” inquired Bart as the farmer got into the rowboat.
“Not special. Ye see I took him for a debt a feller owed me, an’ I named him William ’cause I took him for a bill, see? Bill bein’ short for William.”
“Oh, you needn’t explain,” said Bart, as he joined in the laugh that followed.
“I’ve got th’ best on ye now,” the farmer went on, looking at the beast as the boys rowed the boat out into deeper water.
The bull seemed to think so, for with a loud bellow it went back to the middle of the pasture and began eating.
“He fairly had me,” the farmer said. “He could run along shore a good deal faster than I could wade in th’ water, and th’ pasture runs along th’ river for three miles, without a fence wuth speakin’ of. I couldn’t see no way of escapin’. It’s lucky you come along. Are you boatin’ for a livin’?”
“No, we’re taking a sort of vacation,” replied Ned.