He went straight for the hay wagon. With a bound he was in the decorated auto, like a beast in a cage, with the rack and hay trimmings surrounding him.
"Now we've got him," said the farmer; "that is, if we're careful."
"How?" whispered Ed.
"Someone must lasso him." The farmer held out the rope in his hand, making a loop ready to throw over the ram's head.
The girls had reached the cottage, but were calling to the boys all sorts of warning and cautions.
"When he gets at the hay," said the farmer, "I guess he'll eat. That run likely whet up his appetite."
"More fun than a deer hunt," said Jack, laughing. "I wonder what will turn up next on this motor girls' tour."
"Get busy," said Ed, creeping toward the hay wagon. "Now, Walter— Oh,
Glory be! If he isn't at my four-dollar gloves!"
Quick, like the well=trained athlete that he was, Ed grabbed the rope from the farmer, sprang to the hay rack and made a cast.
It landed true on the animal's horns.