“You fellows can come over here now,” Dick called.  “The bull is safely caught—–­provided neither the rope nor the tree break.”

With a yell of delight Dick’s chums ran to the spot.  Dr. Bentley came, too, though he walked.

Dick’s success did not seem destined, how ever to last.  A halt and a rest seemed to give the bull strength far greater than it had used in pulling against the rope before.  With an angry snort the animal dug its hind hoofs into the soil and began to back away.

“Help!” called Prescott, suddenly, for he found the rope slipping through his fingers, the friction burning his flesh.  Mr. Bull had succeeded in backing four feet away from the tree.  He would speedily be able to free himself altogether.

Tom and Dave now came running.  They threw their weight and muscle upon the rope to hinder the captive animal.  But that great creature seemed likely soon to overcome the strength of all those combined against him.

“Come on!” called Dick, backing away on a new course.  “Off this way, to the next tree behind me.  Hold on and pull for every pound you’re worth.”

Seeing his opponents plainly engaged in making some new move the wild animal halted, eyeing them balefully.  That hesitation proved fatal to his immediate freedom, for Dick had succeeded in getting the rope around the tree behind him.  Now he took another quick hitch, supplementing this with a knot, then another and a third.

“I guess we may all let go of the rope now,” Prescott smiled.  “I don’t believe the bull can pull successfully against that triple knot.”

Mr. Bull was trying it, at any rate.  His angry bellows were almost as loud as the roaring of a lion.  Dirt flew.  The beast exerted its whole power in its efforts to get free.

“The knot will hold,” pronounced Dr. Bentley, after a critical survey.  “The great danger is friction, which may wear out that part of the rope hitched around the first tree.  If that happens we shall all have to run for our lives.  Come back here, Prescott!  What are you going to do?”

For Dick, leaving the little group, had started on a run for the bull.

CHAPTER XXIII

WHAT TAG “BORROWED” FROM THE DOCTOR

“I want to see how the rope is faring,” Dick explained.

“If it fares badly,” called Dr. Bentley dryly, “you will find your curiosity possibly fatal.  Come back here.  It is time for us to be getting away.  I am sorry we have no fire arms, or we could settle Mr. Bull very quickly.  Come along, boys!  Come, Dick!”

But Prescott, for once, didn’t prove over, tractable.  He went closer, anxiously studying the condition of the rope wound around the first tree.  Until Dick was ready to go none of his chums would leave the scene.  Dr. Bentley had turned away; but when he found himself unaccompanied, he wheeled about once more.