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.
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