CHAPTER XVII

BOB MAKES A STRANGE CAPTURE

Bob sprang to one side, catching up the camera as he did so.

The bull charged forward, and had the youth been in the spot where he had just stood he would have been gored to death.

The bull had a ring in his nose, and Bob now saw that he was of the wildest sort, and evidently used to being chained.

“If I had an axe, I would knock him on the head,” said Bob, as he again dodged. “There goes the satchel. I’ll bet he smashed every bottle in it.”

For the bull had planted his foot on the travelling bag, and Bob had heard the crash of glass.

Again the wild animal made for Bob, his eyes glaring like two balls of red fire.

“He has escaped from somebody,” thought Bob. “I wonder what I had best do?”

While Bob continued to dodge around among the brush he heard the sounds of voices.

“Hullo there, help!” he cried out.

“Is that bull there?” came back almost immediately.

“He is, horns and all,” returned Bob. “And the sooner you capture him the better I will like it.”

“Drat the luck!” returned another voice. “Hi, hi!”

Presently two farmers came in sight, opposite to where Bob stood. One carried a gad and the other a chain and clasp.

“It’s him, sure enough,” said one of the farmers. “Look out, if you don’t want to be killed!” he yelled.

“I am looking out,” said Bob. “By jinks!”

The bull had made another charge, and the young photographer had to step lively to get out of reach.

“If he was mine, I’d knock him on the head with an axe,” said Bob. “He’s too dangerous to leave running around.”

“He broke away this morning,” replied one of the farmers. “He belongs up to the county fair. They had a high old time before he got out of the back gate.”

“And you’ll have a high old time before you get him back, I’m thinking,” laughed Bob, who was now beginning to relish the scene.

“I guess you’re right. What’s that thing?”

“My satchel. He just smashed it.”

“Humph! It’s good luck he didn’t smash you instead of the bag.”

“That’s so, too. How do you propose to catch him?”

“Bless me if I know.”

“I want ter git the chain on to him if I kin,” put in the other farmer.

“That’s easier said than done. Hold up, give me that chain.”

Bob snatched the chain from the man’s hand.

The bull was at that moment standing under a tree, the lower branches of which were just over his back.

Bob ran up behind the animal and in a twinkle was up the tree.

Then he crawled out on the branches until he was near the bull’s head.

At that instant the bull looked up. Quick as a flash Bob bent down and hooked the chain in to the ring in the animal’s nose.

The bull gave a loud snort and tried to lower his head.

But before he could do so Bob had the chain wound around the branch several times, and he held fast with all his might.

The bull pulled hard, but though the branch bent pretty low, it did not break.

“Well, I swan!” cried one of the farmers. “If that ain’t the cutest trick I ever see.”

“Don’t yer tumble on to him, or he’ll gore yer ter jelly!” yelled the other farmer.

Bob fastened the end of the chain so that it could not slip, and then slid down on the opposite side of the tree.

By this time pulling on the chain had begun to hurt the bull’s nose, and he quieted down, although his eyes rolled as fiercely as ever.

“He’s safe there for the present,” said Bob. “The best thing you can do is to get another chain and hobble him.”

“We’ll get his regular keeper,” returned one of the farmers. “By gosh, but ain’t he a regular picter with his nose stuck up in the air!”

This remark gave Bob a sudden idea. He ran back for his camera, and setting it up, hastily took a picture of the captured beast.

“I’ll send it to Frank,” he said to himself. “It will remind him of the time we tried to photograph that elephant.”

While Bob was taking the picture and looking over the wreck of his satchel, one of the farmers made off to notify the keeper of the prize bull of what had occurred. He returned in a short while, having met the keeper on the road.

A number of ropes and chains were procured, and before long the bull was under complete control. The keeper spoke kindly to him, and gradually the fierce light in the bull’s eyes died out utterly, and he became as gentle as an ordinary animal.

“A woman teased him with a red parasol,” explained the man to Bob. “Otherwise he would never have acted in this fashion. I will be able to lead him back without further trouble, mark my word.”

And when he started, the bull went along just as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

As there were no more pictures to be taken that day, Bob followed the keeper and the two farmers to the county fair, which was being held on the outskirts of Dartinville. He was allowed in without buying a ticket, and when he met the owner of the bull, that individual promptly offered to pay for all damages done.

“Well, the chemicals in the bag were worth about six dollars,” said Bob.

“And the satchel?”

“I don’t know. It was a gift.”

“Will a ten-dollar bill cover it?”

“I think so.”

“Then here is a twenty--ten for your loss and ten for your ingenuity in helping us capture the bull.”

Bob pocketed the cash with thanks. The adventure had been rather a perilous one, but on the whole he had enjoyed it.

Buying himself a pocketful of peanuts, Bob strolled around the grounds. He was not much interested in the display of prize fruit and vegetables, having seen too much of this stuff while working on the farm.

But the side-shows attracted his attention. They had big paintings hung outside, and Bob had seen very little of anything like it before.

“Walk up, ladies and gentlemen, and see the most marvellous exhibition on the face of the globe!” cried out one of the side-show spouters. “The bearded lady from Georgia, the four-legged man from California, and the celebrated glass-eater, Mazzati, from the Island of Borneo. Admission but a dime, and if you are not satisfied we will refund you your money.”

Bob listened for a while, and during the time he was doing so he saw a tall figure walk up to the stand, buy a ticket, and enter the dirty tent.

It was Joel Carrow.

“Gracious, he must be treating himself,” thought Bob. “A whole ten cents spent at one time, not to say anything about the price of admission to the fair grounds. I have half a mind to follow him in and see what he has to say when we meet.”

Bob thought over the matter for a moment. Then he dropped a dime into the doorkeeper’s hand and passed inside the show-tent.

As he expected, the show--if it may be designated by that name--was the worst kind of a swindle. The bearded lady’s beard was a false one--the four-legged man had two artificial limbs, and the glass-eater ate nothing more brittle than a peculiar kind of rock candy.

Only half a dozen visitors were inside the tent, and they stared stupidly around, first at the so-called curiosities and then at one another.

Bob looked for Joel Carrow, who had inspected the “curiosities,” and was now making his way to a corner of the tent where stood a flashily-dressed man, having before him a small show-case and a box filled with envelopes.

The show-case was laden with articles of jewelry, each bearing a certain number.

“Here’s your chance to make money,” said the flashily-dressed man. “Each of the envelopes in this box contains a number, and that number can be found on some articles of jewelry in the case. The price of an envelope is only twenty-five cents, and there are no blanks. Try your luck and win the gold watch or the diamond scarf-pin, either of which is worth fifty dollars.”

Joel Carrow was interested. He did not know that none of the envelopes contained the number corresponding to the articles of any value in the case. It was true there were no blanks, but it was also true there were no prizes of a greater cash value than five cents.

“I’ll try my luck,” said Carrow, after some hesitation, and he passed over twenty-five cents.

“I think I’ll watch this,” thought Bob. “That man will try to swindle Carrow all he can.”