They could easily see that at the rate of progress made by their unfortunate chum, he must certainly be overtaken before he could arrive and have a chance to clamber over that high and stout rail fence, supposed to be bull proof.
But they failed to take into consideration the fact that Ty had profited more than a little from his connection with the scouts. And, besides, all through his exciting race with that owner of the wicked little black horns, he had kept in mind the last instructions shouted across the field by Elmer, the boy who had spent a part of his life on a cattle ranch and farm, and was supposed to know all about the habits of the animals.
"Oh, he's sure a goner!" gasped Landy, as they saw the rapidly advancing bull draw nearer and nearer the frantic runner. "Poor old Ty; I wonder will we be able to catch him on the fly!"
Landy was evidently thinking of baseball, though his excitement was so great that he hardly knew just what was passing through his mind.
"Look at that, will you?" burst from Ted.
Ty had waited until all hope of gaining the fence seemed to have fled. Over his shoulder he could see his terrible enemy closing in and apparently putting on greater speed. If anything was to be done it must be accomplished without the loss of another second.
It was then that he suddenly drew something from the bosom of his outing shirt. This "something" proved to be that old red sweater which he had refused to leave in the crotch of the friendly tree, into the branches of which he had hurriedly climbed at the time he was first beset.
He waved the flaming garment wildly about his head in order to make sure that it caught the eye of the bull; and once that was done it might be put down as certain that the animal would see nothing else than that hated color.
"Wow! He's done it!" cried Landy, as his fat face was pressed tight against the rails of the fence, between which he had an uninterrupted view of the proceedings.
Ty had thrown the red sweater aside.