"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.
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