"Rope's ready in the chestnut tree," he called, as Dick started on still another track, pursued, clumsily, by the angry bull.
"Get back out of harm's way," shouted Dick. "Get back, or you will hinder me."
In three changing sprints Dick manoeuvred to reach the chestnut tree, though the clumsy bull was barely twenty feet behind him and coming fast.
As the rope hung from the crotch of the tree both ends trailed on the ground. Seizing both lines Dick went up rapidly hand over hand, his feet braced against the tree trunk. In this position he was able to run nimbly up the side of the trunk.
Bump! The bull's head landed against the tree, the shock nearly bringing the high school boy to the ground. Dick managed to hold on to the rope, though his feet slipped from the trunk.
Rapidly he drew himself up into the crotch of the tree. Bump—-again!
Any animal with a head less hard would have been stunned outright.
Even Mr. Bull, after the second charge at the tree, backed off, head lowered, pawing the ground, willing to consider ere making a renewed attack.
The tree was in no danger of snapping. It was too stout for that. Prescott's only danger, just at present, was that of being dislodged by the force of those mad charges.
Turning, and beholding his friends closer than was safe, Prescott shouted to them:
"Get back, fellows! You can't do any good here now, and the bull may turn on you. Get 'way back! I'll call you when I'm ready for your help."