"How?" asked Phil, who knew little or nothing about bulls.
"See that ring in his nose? I'd hook him in that and then keep him at the end of the pole. That always brings 'em to terms."
"But we haven't got any hook," said Ben. "We might make one, though," he added.
A small hatchet had been brought along—with which to chop firewood—and securing this the boys quickly cut two slender but strong saplings, and trimmed them of their branches.
"There is a hook in our car," said Jessie. "If you could only get that!"
"Don't you try it," said Ben. "I've known a bull to leap into a wagon, and this one might leap right into the auto and wreck everything and hurt you in the bargain."
"I'll use a tree root for a hook," said Dave, and quickly found what he wanted, and bound it fast to one of the poles by means of a fishing line he happened to be carrying.
"Now, Ben, you stand by to prod him, if he gets too rambunctious," went on Dave, as he handed the second pole to his chum.
"All right," answered Ben. He, too, had been brought up on a farm, and knew a little about bulls.
The animal had quieted down for a moment, and was grazing on some grass between the auto-
