They had about half crossed the field when Lanky suddenly came to a stop.
“Go on, fellows!” he called out; “I’ve got to tie my shoe again; I’ll catch up with you in a jiffy, before you get to the fence yonder.”
“Put a knot in that shoelace, Lanky,” said Bones, laughingly, over his shoulder; “that makes the fourth time you’ve dropped down to tie it. Try that game in the race and it might lose you your chance. It often hangs on a small thing; doesn’t it, Frank?”
Receiving no reply to his question Bones glanced up at the face of his chum. He found that Frank, while running steadily on, seemed to be apparently listening intently, for his head was cocked to one side.
“What did you hear, Frank; the halloo of some other runner who’s bogged over in that swamp?” demanded Bones.
“No; I thought I heard a snort, and it made me think of cattle,” replied Frank.
“Well, that wouldn’t surprise me a whit,” declared the other, immediately; “for I’ve seen signs of ’em all along, and I reckon this field is used for—oh! now I heard it, too, Frank! A snort, you said; well, I guess it was more than that. I’d call it a bellow, and an ugly one at that. There’s something moving over back of Lanky. I guess he sees it, for he’s on his feet now, looking. Wow, there comes a cow, streaking it out from those bushes, and heading straight for Lanky!”
“A cow!” ejaculated Frank; “that’s a bull, Bones, and the worst-looking one I ever remember seeing! We must be at the Hobson farm, and that’s the fierce old bull Jack was telling me about. He’ll get Lanky if our chum doesn’t do some tall sprinting right soon. Run, Lanky, run for all you’re worth! Make for that tree near the fence, and if he gets too close, climb up.”
Neither Frank nor Bones dared stand still, for the bull was heading in their direction, even while chasing the tall boy from Columbia High. And just then there were some “lively doings” in that pasture.