PLAYING RAGTIME ON MR. BULL
"Drop your parasol! Throw it away!" screamed her friends in unison.
But Clara, emitting another shriek, seemed too frightened to
comprehend. She tried to redouble her speed, but the bull was
rapidly gaining on her in the pursuit.
As all stood gazing at the panic-stricken girl, Dick Prescott
shot across the field.
What happened next was that Dick snatched the flaming red parasol
from her hand, then swung her shoulders about, thus forcing the
girl to face in another direction.
"Run---the way you're headed!" he yelled hoarsely.
The bull was close upon them. Giving the parasol a flourish in
the maddened animal's face, Prescott started off in the direction
from which the bull had come.
"Get up a tree, Prescott, as quickly as you can!" panted Dr. Bentley.
But Dick, not even pausing to shake his head, put all his effort
into a fresh burst of speed.
Running away from the camp, flaunting the red parasol, Dick was
followed closely by the bellowing bull. For a short distance,
anyway, the sprinter could run as fast as the pursuer.
Dick swiftly decided, now that he had the bull in voluntary tow,
to lead the animal where the trees were thicker. Here an agile
candidate for football honors ought to be able to daze and exhaust
the bull by darting from tree to tree.
The plan had its dangers, however, and Dick knew them well.
Once in among the trees Dick tossed the parasol to one side, then
darted off on an oblique line.
Bellowing, stumbling, the bull turned clumsily to follow him.
Again Dick changed his course, though, purposely, he took pains
not to get too far from camp.
Now he saw his chums running towards him.
"Keep away! Don't get near the bull!" he yelled.
"We've sent Dan to get the rope in the tent," Reade called back.
"Now, what in the world do the boys think they're going to do
with a rope?" Prescott wondered.
Suddenly, as he dodged off on a new track to escape the bull,
a plan flashed into Prescott's mind.
"Get up a tree!" yelled Dave.
"Hardly time enough," Dick retorted, dodging again and sprinting
briefly out of harm's way. "When Dan brings the rope throw it
so that one end will rest in the lowest fork of that young chestnut
tree."
Dave Darrin heard, understood and nodded.
"Rope's ready in the chestnut tree," he called, as Dick started
on still another track, pursued, clumsily, by the angry bull.
"Get back out of harm's way," shouted Dick. "Get back, or you
will hinder me."
In three changing sprints Dick manoeuvred to reach the chestnut
tree, though the clumsy bull was barely twenty feet behind him
and coming fast.
As the rope hung from the crotch of the tree both ends trailed
on the ground. Seizing both lines Dick went up rapidly hand over
hand, his feet braced against the tree trunk. In this position
he was able to run nimbly up the side of the trunk.
Bump! The bull's head landed against the tree, the shock nearly
bringing the high school boy to the ground. Dick managed to hold
on to the rope, though his feet slipped from the trunk.
Rapidly he drew himself up into the crotch of the tree. Bump---again!
Any animal with a head less hard would have been stunned outright.
Even Mr. Bull, after the second charge at the tree, backed off,
head lowered, pawing the ground, willing to consider ere making
a renewed attack.
The tree was in no danger of snapping. It was too stout for that.
Prescott's only danger, just at present, was that of being dislodged
by the force of those mad charges.
Turning, and beholding his friends closer than was safe, Prescott
shouted to them:
"Get back, fellows! You can't do any good here now, and the bull
may turn on you. Get 'way back! I'll call you when I'm ready
for your help."
"What do you think you're going to be able to do up that tree?"
jeered Danny Grin, as he nevertheless backed away with the others.
"I'm going to do something, if there's any way to do it," Dick
answered. "How is Clara?"
"Safe," pronounced Tom.
"Hysterical?"
"No; only trembling."
Dick had hauled up the rope. Now, with a speculative air, he
was making a slip noose at one end. He still hadn't a very definite
idea of what he was going to do to the bull. Prescott was making
a lariat, though he had no skill in the use of such a thing.
Presently, however, the mad animal came closer, stamping, head
lowered.
"Nice fellow! Nice fellow!" Dick called mockingly. "Wouldn't
you like to have me come down to talk with you?"
Attracted by the voice, the bull raised its head, showing its
flaming eyes.
"I wonder!" mused Dick, half aloud, as he leaned out cautiously
over a limb. "I wonder."
Then, by way of finding out, he dropped the noose suddenly. It
fell over the animal's head and around its neck.
Warned by the touch of the rope, the bull backed hastily off,
nearly hauling the high school boy out of the tree.
"There's just one chance to get you, and that's happening now,"
mused Dick Prescott, as, still holding to the rope, he fairly
shot down the tree trunk.
For an instant the bull watched as though incredulous. It gave
Dick time to touch his feet to the ground, passing the rope loosely
once around the tree trunk.
As the bull lumbered forward Prescott pulled on his rope, while
retreating in the opposite direction.
All in a twinkling the bull's head was close to the tree, and
Dick with the end of the rope in his hands, and aided by the twist
around the tree, had a leverage that enable him to hold the bull
there.
For a few moments the dirt fairly flew before the maddened animal's
efforts to free itself. Then, finding itself a prisoner, with
its head fastened close to the tree, the bull again stopped to
consider.
"You fellows can come over here now," Dick called. "The bull
is safely caught---provided neither the rope nor the tree break."
With a yell of delight Dick's chums ran to the spot. Dr. Bentley
came, too, though he walked.
Dick's success did not seem destined, how ever to last. A halt
and a rest seemed to give the bull strength far greater than it
had used in pulling against the rope before. With an angry snort
the animal dug its hind hoofs into the soil and began to back
away.
"Help!" called Prescott, suddenly, for he found the rope slipping
through his fingers, the friction burning his flesh. Mr. Bull
had succeeded in backing four feet away from the tree. He would
speedily be able to free himself altogether.
Tom and Dave now came running. They threw their weight and muscle
upon the rope to hinder the captive animal. But that great creature
seemed likely soon to overcome the strength of all those combined
against him.
"Come on!" called Dick, backing away on a new course. "Off this
way, to the next tree behind me. Hold on and pull for every pound
you're worth."
Seeing his opponents plainly engaged in making some new move the
wild animal halted, eyeing them balefully. That hesitation proved
fatal to his immediate freedom, for Dick had succeeded in getting
the rope around the tree behind him. Now he took another quick
hitch, supplementing this with a knot, then another and a third.
"I guess we may all let go of the rope now," Prescott smiled.
"I don't believe the bull can pull successfully against that
triple knot."
Mr. Bull was trying it, at any rate. His angry bellows were almost
as loud as the roaring of a lion. Dirt flew. The beast exerted
its whole power in its efforts to get free.
"The knot will hold," pronounced Dr. Bentley, after a critical
survey. "The great danger is friction, which may wear out that
part of the rope hitched around the first tree. If that happens
we shall all have to run for our lives. Come back here, Prescott!
What are you going to do?"
For Dick, leaving the little group, had started on a run for the
bull.