Part 22 (1/2)

”That's a queer way to fish,” he remarked.

”Probably he's hooked a big one and is playing him,” remarked Ned.

As they watched the man ran up out of the water and along the bank a few feet, and then, turning, he quickly waded out into deep water again.

”That's a queer proceeding,” commented Bart, who turned to look at the man.

”Rather,” admitted Ned. ”He must--Why a bull is after him!” he went on.

As he spoke the others saw a big black bull come tearing down the field straight toward the river. It stopped when it came to the water's edge, opposite to where the man was standing in the stream up to his hips.

There the beast lowered its head and, with an angry snort, pawed the soft mud.

”Row faster!” urged Frank. ”Maybe we can help him.”

As the boat approached, the boys saw the man make several other attempts to leave the river. Each time he tried the bull would chase him back, but the animal seemed to be afraid of getting its feet wet, for it always stopped at the sh.o.r.e.

Sometimes the bull would withdraw some distance back into the field. At such times the man would wade along near sh.o.r.e until quite a ways above or below the animal. Then he would make a dash, hoping to fool the beast, but every time the bull heard him and came down with a rush.

The boys were now near enough to hear the man addressing the bull in no gentle tones. The prisoner in the water did not appear to notice the boat.

”Consarn your black hide!” he exclaimed. ”Let me git out of this cold water, will ye? By Heck! Th' next time I try t' put a ring in your nose you'll know it. Come now, Stonewall Jackson, let me out, will ye?”

But the bull seemed to have some grudge against the farmer for it lowered its horns and gave an angry bellow.

”If ever I git out of here I'll hobble ye so's ye can't move, ye onery black critter!” the farmer went on. ”I'll whale ye till ye'll wish ye'd behaved yerself, that's what!”

This time the bull had gone back up the field and was browsing the gra.s.s. The farmer cautiously waded down stream and made a dash for sh.o.r.e. The bull heard him and came down so fast that its momentum carried it several feet into the river before it could stop. Meanwhile the farmer had hurried deeper into the stream, splas.h.i.+ng the water all over himself in his haste.

”If I had a gun I'd shoot ye!” he yelled, shaking his fist at the bull.

”Can't you swim to the other side?” asked Ned, as the boat came near.

The farmer looked around in surprise. He had been so engrossed by his contest with the bull he had not heard the craft approaching.

”I can't swim,” he said. ”Look at the plight I'm in. No one ever gets to this pasture. I come here to-day t' put a ring in this critter's nose.

He broke away from the ropes I'd tied him with when I almost had it in, an' he chased me into th' water. He's kept me here over an hour an' I ain't had my breakfast. Every time I try to get out he charges.”

”Why don't you go away up or far down the stream where he can't follow?”

asked Bart.

”I've come down a mile from where I started,” the farmer said. ”I'm plumb tired out an' I know I'll catch cold stayin' in th' water so long.

If I ever git holt of that 'tarnation critter I'll--”

He didn't finish, for, while he had been talking he had been drawing near sh.o.r.e. The bull was watching him, and made another dash that sent the farmer scurrying for deep water.

”That's the way he does it,” he said to the boys, his voice showing the despair he felt.