“I wouldn’t want him to strike one of our tires,” remarked Ned. “It would be all up with it.”
“Hurrah! I have it!” cried Bob at length.
He dove beneath the rear seat and pulled up a shining object.
“The ammonia squirt gun!” he exclaimed. “The same we used on the hold-up tramps. Give the bull a dose of it!”
“Good idea,” commented Jerry.
The bulb of the automatic pistol was still filled with the fiery liquid, for the boys kept it loaded in readiness for use. Bob handed it over to Jerry. The latter took careful aim, and pressed the rubber. A fine stream of the powerful stuff struck the bull full in the face.
With a bellow that fairly shook the ground near-by the bull reared up in the air, and coming down on all fours snorted with rage, shook its head to rid its eyes of the terrible burning, and then dashed madly away.
“Now I guess we can get past,” remarked Bob, “and get some supper. I’m as hungry as a bear.”
A good fire was soon started and Ned began to prepare the meal. While the others were setting out the dishes, or getting ready for the night camp, since it seemed there was no place for shelter in the neighborhood, the travelers were startled by a voice: