“Meanwhile I had concocted a plan for check-mating my antagonist. I saw that from this point forward to the dike the gully became more and more impassable, and I thought if I could lure the bull into following me but for a little way down the opposite bank, I could gain such a start upon him that to reach the dike would be an easy matter. With this design then, when the bull again repeated his angry challenge, I shouted, threw another sod, and started on a trot down the creek. But the cunning brute was not to be deceived in such fashion. He turned at once to repeat his former tactics, and I was fain to retrace my steps precipitately.
“The brute now resolved, apparently, upon a waiting game. After pawing his defiance afresh, he proceeded to walk around and eat a little, ever and anon raising his head to eye me with a sullen and obstinate hatred. For my own part, now that time had ceased to be an object, I sat down and racked my brains over the problem. Would the brute keep up this guard all through the night? I felt as if there was a sleuth-hound on my trail. That now silent presence across the creek began to weigh upon me like a nightmare. At last, in desperation, I resolved upon a straight-away race for the dike. As I pondered on the chances, they seemed to grow more and more favorable. I was a good runner, and though handicapped with the pole, would have a fair start on my enemy. Having made up my mind to the venture I rose to my feet, ready to seize the smallest advantage.
“As I rose, the bull wheeled sharply, and sprang to the edge of the bank with a muffled roar. But seeing that I stood leaning idly on my pole and made no motion to depart, he soon tossed away in the sulks and resumed his grazing. In a few moments a succulent streak of clover so engrossed him that he turned his back fairly upon me—and like a flash I was off, speeding noiselessly over the grass.
“Not till several seconds had been gained did I hear the angry bellow which told of the detection of my stratagem. I did not stop to look back, and I certainly made some very pretty running; but the dike seemed still most dismally remote when I heard that heavy gallop plunging behind me. Nearer, nearer it drew, with terrible swiftness; and nearer and nearer drew the dike. I reached it where it was perhaps about seven feet high. Slackening up to plant my pole squarely, I sprang, and had barely time to steady myself on the summit when the beast brought up with a roar at my very feet. It was a narrow, a very narrow escape.
“With a sigh of relief and gratitude I sat me down to rest, and took some satisfaction in poking the ribs of the baffled brute below. Then, lightly balancing my pole in one hand, I turned my face toward the ‘bito,’ and made my way thoughtfully homeward. It was altogether too literally a ‘hair’s-breadth’ adventure.”
When Ranolf concluded there was a general stir. Pipes were refilled, and a “snack” (of biscuits, cheese, and liquids to taste) was passed around. Then Stranion said,—
“It’s your turn, O. M.”
“But it’s bedtime,” pleaded I; “and besides, as I have the writing to do, let others do the speaking!”
My arguments were received with a stony stare, so I made haste to begin.
“Like Magnus,” said I, “modesty forbids me to be my own hero. I’ll tell you a story which I picked up last fall, when I was alleged to be pigeon-shooting twenty miles above Fredericton. We will call the yarn—