“We’ll get his regular keeper,” returned one of the farmers. “By gosh, but ain’t he a regular picter with his nose stuck up in the air!”
This remark gave Bob a sudden idea. He ran back for his camera, and setting it up, hastily took a picture of the captured beast.
“I’ll send it to Frank,” he said to himself. “It will remind him of the time we tried to photograph that elephant.”
While Bob was taking the picture and looking over the wreck of his satchel, one of the farmers made off to notify the keeper of the prize bull of what had occurred. He returned in a short while, having met the keeper on the road.
A number of ropes and chains were procured, and before long the bull was under complete control. The keeper spoke kindly to him, and gradually the fierce light in the bull’s eyes died out utterly, and he became as gentle as an ordinary animal.
“A woman teased him with a red parasol,” explained the man to Bob. “Otherwise he would never have acted in this fashion. I will be able to lead him back without further trouble, mark my word.”
And when he started, the bull went along just as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
As there were no more pictures to be taken that day, Bob followed the keeper and the two farmers to the county fair, which was being held on the outskirts of Dartinville. He was allowed in without buying a ticket, and when he met the owner of the bull, that individual promptly offered to pay for all damages done.
“Well, the chemicals in the bag were worth about six dollars,” said Bob.
“And the satchel?”