The tree loomed before him. A few more desperate jumps and he would be able to dodge around it and escape the first mad rush of his enemy.
Frank was holding his breath. He could not remember suffering more mental agony than when sitting upon that fence watching his chum strive with every muscle in his bony frame to reach the tree ahead of the charging beast. And all because he and Bones were so utterly helpless to assist Lanky.
“Hurrah! he done it!” yelped Bones, with an utter disregard for grammar that might have shocked his teacher at school; but the boy was so excited that he hardly knew what he was saying.
Lanky, with a grand rally at the end, had actually managed to slide behind the big trunk of the tree. The bull went galloping past, unable to immediately bring his forward progress to a stop.
They saw Lanky roll over once or twice, and again Frank gave a gasp, fearing that the other might have received some injury in that fall calculated to prevent him from doing what he must to escape the next charge of the bull.
“There, he’s up again, and making for the tree!” snapped Bones, who could not repress his feelings for an instant.
“Climb up, if you can, Lanky!” shouted Frank; but enough time was not given for this performance, since again the bull was on the move.
Around and around the tree they went, the agile boy eluding each wild attempt on the part of his bovine enemy to get him. Again and again those horns would come against the trunk of the tree with a wicked crash; it seemed as if the animal was growing more and more furious as the seconds sped by without success attending his efforts.
All at once Bones gave a whoop.
“There he goes, Frank! Bully boy, Lanky; you fooled him that time, all right!”