“Keep at it, Don!” cried Bob. “We’ll soon have this bull back where he belongs! Drive him out of this field!”
[He turned quickly to shake his head and horns at Don.]
“Bow wow!” barked Don, which meant, in dog language: “Of course we’ll drive him back. I’m not afraid.”
So, with the barking of the dog, and the way Bob shook his stick and threw stones, the bull began to feel that perhaps he had better be good, and go back where he belonged.
The bull was still rather angry, and he kept shaking his head and his horns, and pawing up the ground with his front feet. Still he backed slowly out of the lot where he did not belong, and pretty soon along came Bob’s father, with a big stick. Sallie, Bob’s sister, had gone to call her father when she saw Bob and Don trying to keep the bull from getting into the road.
“Get back there!” cried Bob’s father, and slowly the bull went back, until he was safely locked in the pasture from which he had gotten out by jumping the fence.
“Well, Bob,” said his father, “you are a brave little chap. Did you drive back the black bull all alone?”