“Is that bull there?” came back almost immediately.
“He is, horns and all,” returned Bob. “And the sooner you capture him the better I will like it.”
“Drat the luck!” returned another voice. “Hi, hi!”
Presently two farmers came in sight, opposite to where Bob stood. One carried a gad and the other a chain and clasp.
“It’s him, sure enough,” said one of the farmers. “Look out, if you don’t want to be killed!” he yelled.
“I am looking out,” said Bob. “By jinks!”
The bull had made another charge, and the young photographer had to step lively to get out of reach.
“If he was mine, I’d knock him on the head with an axe,” said Bob. “He’s too dangerous to leave running around.”
“He broke away this morning,” replied one of the farmers. “He belongs up to the county fair. They had a high old time before he got out of the back gate.”
“And you’ll have a high old time before you get him back, I’m thinking,” laughed Bob, who was now beginning to relish the scene.