“Bulls—bulls don’t eat folks,” stammered Tess. “They—they hook ’em. And how do you know it is a bull, Dot Kenway?”
“Hasn’t it got horns?” gasped the smallest Corner House girl. “Of course it is a bull. Come, Tess Kenway! I’m going to run.”
There seemed nothing else to do. Cow, or bull, it mattered not which—both were comparatively strange animals to the sisters. Most of the cattle they had seen were dehorned.
They now scampered away as fast as they could from the vicinity of the threatening peril. To add wings to their flight the creature lowed after them mournfully.
“Oh! I just know he wants to eat us,” gasped Dot.
“Hook us, you mean,” corrected Tess, strictly a purist even in her terror.
They scrambled on, panting. Tess tried to take Dot’s hand; but the smaller girl would drop neither the doll nor the flowers. Finally they reached the fence at the edge of the woods, and plunged through it. Thus defended from the enemy (which had not followed them a step) the little girls fell to the ground, breathless, but relieved.
“That nawful, nawful bull!” groaned Dot. “I did think he’d get us before we reached the fence. See Alice! She’s just as scared as she can be.” And as the blue-eyed doll was a widely staring creature, Dot’s statement seemed particularly apt.
“I lost all my flowers,” mourned Tess.
“Well, there’s a lot more yonder,” said Dot, pointing ahead. “Mine aren’t so good. I squashed ’em, running so.”