However, help was on the way. Adam North, walking down toward the brook, heard the low, muttering bellows of the bull, and then saw him moving about the old hen-house.
“Hello, my fine fellow, how did you get out of your pasture?” asked Adam, speaking to the bull as one might to a dog. “You’ve been up to some mischief, I’m sure. I wonder——Bless my stars! The children!” cried Adam North. “Have you been chasing the six little Bunkers?”
Adam looked about but could see no sign of the boys and girls, so he felt pretty sure they were safe, wherever they were. But he knew the bull must be shut up in his pasture or he might do some damage. Calling another hired man, and each of them taking a sharp pitchfork, of which the bull was much afraid, they drove him away from the hen-house, back across the brook, and into his pasture, where the broken fence was made secure.
Then, when Adam and his helper came back after having driven away the bull, out of the hen-house rushed the six little Bunkers. They had watched Adam and the other man drive away the animal, but had not dared come out until everything was all right.
“Were you in there all the while?” asked Adam North.
“Yes,” answered Russ. “We ran in there when the bull chased us.”
“Well, it was the best thing you could have done. My! I’m glad nothing happened to you. The old bull may have intended just to play with you, but even to be tossed in fun on a bull’s horns is no joke.”
“I should say not!” agreed Russ.
So that happening ended safely.
“People talk about the quiet life on a farm!” Mrs. Bunker said to her husband when she came home that evening and heard what had taken place. “This far our vacation has been anything but quiet.”