Lanky must be saved in some way or other, but just how to go about it was the question. At first Frank thought he might coax the bull by dropping over the fence at some distant part of the field. He tried it, but with no success whatever. The cunning bull declined to nibble at the bait. It was just as if he had decided that a boy in the tree was worth two in the field keeping close to the fence so that it could be scaled.
“It’s no go, Frank!” called out Bones, after the other had ventured as near to the animal as he deemed safe, without drawing his attention a particle. “You’ll have to try another dodge; or else Lanky’s going to stay in that tree till Christmas rolls around, or the Glorious Fourth.”
“For goodness sake, think up some way of getting him off, Frank!” called out the impatient prisoner of the lone tree.
“I’ve got a scheme!” cried Bones.
“Yes, you have!” Lanky answered in some derision; for he failed to have any great amount of faith in anything Bones Shadduck originated.
“Well, this one’s a corker, I tell you,” the boy on the fence went on, eagerly.
“All right, let’s hear it, and speak low so the bull won’t get on,” Lanky suggested, with mock respect.
“Besides it’ll give Frank and me a heap of fun watching you, Lanky.”
“Oh! it will, hey? Lots of fun, you say? I’ve no doubt you’re enjoying this game right well, Bones; but you’d laugh out of the other side of your mouth if it was you sitting up here, and me on the fence. But go on, tell us about it now.”
“Why, you want to watch your chance,” began Bones, soberly.