"I want to see how the rope is faring," Dick explained.
"If it fares badly," called Dr. Bentley dryly, "you will find your curiosity possibly fatal. Come back here. It is time for us to be getting away. I am sorry we have no fire arms, or we could settle Mr. Bull very quickly. Come along, boys! Come, Dick!"
But Prescott, for once, didn't prove over, tractable. He went closer, anxiously studying the condition of the rope wound around the first tree. Until Dick was ready to go none of his chums would leave the scene. Dr. Bentley had turned away; but when he found himself unaccompanied, he wheeled about once more.
"You can't do anything—-except run in danger, Dick," the physician called anxiously.
"I am studying this business trying to find out if there isn't something that I can do," Prescott replied.
"There isn't," Dr. Bentley assured the boy, walking over to him, "and by staying you're only putting your life in almost certain jeopardy."
But Prescott shook his head and went on studying the turn of rope around the tree trunk.
"You foolhardy fellow, I wish I had authority to order you away from here," exclaimed the physician irascible.
"I know you think I'm foolhardy, sir," Dick answered respectfully, "but, from the way the rope is fraying, this beast is going to be free presently. I feel that I simply have to find a way to prevent his doing mischief. We boys can take to trees, but how about the girls? How about Mrs. Bentley?"
"They can get inside of the wooden houses at need," urged Dr. Bentley. "It is hardly likely that even a crazy bull would attack a wooden house."