CHAPTER XIX

THE FARMER AND THE BULL

"What's that?" exclaimed Bart, suddenly sitting up.

"Hush!" cautioned Ned. "Some one is prowling around!"

But Bart's voice had startled the intruder. Ned saw the figure move quickly out of the glare of the flames, and then dart down toward the river.

"They're after our boats!" yelled Bart, who at that moment saw the figure. "Come on, fellows!"

He ran from the tent followed by his three chums. As he passed the fire Bart threw on some light pieces of wood that blazed up quickly.

In the glow the figure of a man could be seen, headed on the run for the little beach, where the boats were tied. As he ran his coat appeared to flap out behind him, the long tails bobbing about from his motion.

"It's that tramp!" exclaimed Ned.

"Hi there!" yelled Bart.

They saw the man make a flying leap into a canoe that was drawn up partly on shore. The violence of the motion sent the frail craft well out into the stream and it was caught by the current.

By this time the boys had reached the shore. At first they supposed it was their canoe which the tramp had stolen, but a second glance showed them the green craft still in place beside the rowboat.

"It's his own canoe," remarked Frank as the boys watched it floating down stream. There was no sign of the occupant.

"Is he in it or did he set it adrift and start to swim?" inquired Fenn. All four were standing on the edge of the water peering out over the river in the darkness, the canoe being a deeper blur which alone distinguished it from the surrounding blackness.

"He's probably lying down in it, thinking he may get shot at," said Bart.

As if to prove his words the sound of paddling was borne to their ears, and the canoe seemed to move faster. The tramp had begun to propel the craft, but they could not see him.

"Let's get back to bed," suggested Fenn. "I think we'd better keep watch after this."

"Not much use," came from Bart. "That tramp isn't likely to come back and there's no one else around here. I vote we get what sleep we can."

It was decided this was as wise a thing as could be done and after replenishing the fire, so it would burn until morning, the campers crawled back into the tent and slept until sunrise, no further alarms disturbing them.

"Well, fellows," called Frank when the things had been put away. "What's the program for to-day?"

"We'll row up stream until noon," said Bart, "camp and have dinner, and, if we like the place, stay all night. If we don't we'll move on to a better one."

The boat was soon loaded and, with the canoe towing along behind, the trip was resumed. The river wound in and out through a wooded country for a few miles and then they came to a long straight stretch where it flowed between level fields.

As the boat was urged up stream under the impulse of the oars in the hands of Bart and Fenn, Ned, who was resting in the bow, called out:

"Steer her out a bit, Frank. There's a man fishing just ahead of us and we don't want to disturb him."

Frank who was at the rudder lines glanced up and saw, about a quarter of a mile ahead, a man standing up to his waist in water.

"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 shore.

Sometimes the bull would withdraw some distance back into the field. At such times the man would wade along near shore 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 grass. The farmer cautiously waded down stream and made a dash for shore. 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, splashing 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 shore. 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.