The bull looked through the fence, snorted, pawed the earth, and let out an angry bellow. Then he walked disdainfully away, as though satisfied with the victory he had gained, that one fragment of the torn red sweater still floating from his horn, just for all the world, as Ty remarked, "like a flag at half mast."
"Come, let's hike back to camp, boys," remarked Elmer, moving off, "and finish getting our breakfast ready. By the time Ty manages to come along we'll be fixed for business."
"Oh, I'll show up in decent shape, all right," remarked the other. "This time I'll take no rash chances in crossing fields. Around the fence is good enough for me, I guess."
He was as prompt as his word, and came along with his pail of fresh milk just as Elmer was beating the tattoo on the frying pan that summoned the party to breakfast.
"What did they say up at the farmer's, Ty!" asked Landy.
"Not guilty," replied the other, who was cramming his mouth with a portion of the flapjacks Elmer had made, and which were really fine.
"Now, what's the use of giving us puzzles to solve!" complained the fat boy, as he speared his second helping from the tin platter, and proceeded to deluge the same with some maple syrup that had been brought along in a bottle. "Not guilty of what, say!"
"That ain't their bull, you see," remarked Ty.
"And tho they declined to buy you a new thweater, ith that it, Ty?" asked Ted, a little maliciously.
"Oh, rats!" cried the other; "you know right well I'm not built that way, Ted Burgoyne. Never once thought of trying to make anybody pay for my foolishness in trying to cut across a field that had a bull in it. I only mentioned the fact because, you see, I had to explain what happened to their tin bucket, when I was paying for it. But after all they wouldn't accept the money—said it was only an old pail after all, and the farmer he told me I ought to be glad it was the bull, and not me, that kicked the bucket."