They were pushing on leisurely when they suddenly stopped and listened, having heard what seemed to be a cry for help.

“Somebody is in trouble,” said Jack.  “Where is it, straight ahead?”

“It sounds like it, and that sounds like the voice of Billy Manners.”

“Maybe he is joking,” said young Smith.  “He always is.”

Just now came a lusty cry for help in so serious and agonized a tone that Jack said with a smile: 

“Billy is not joking now, that is certain.  He is in real trouble.  Come on and let us see what it is.”

They pushed on rapidly, the call being presently repeated, and at the same time they heard a bellowing sound, which they could not make out.

“Come on!” cried Percival.  “Billy is in trouble, and that sounds like the bellow of a wild beast.”

“I should say it was a calf,” remarked Jesse W., “if you were to ask me about it, but what a calf is doing here——­”

He hurried on to keep up with Jack and Dick, Buck and Ben following quickly, having evidently heard the noises.

Coming in a short time into an open space the boys paused and then began to laugh heartily, something they would certainly not have done if Billy had been in danger.

There, in the crotch of a little tree about six feet from the ground, was Billy Manners, while at the foot of the tree was a calf a few months’ old bellowing lustily and evidently calling for food.

“I told you it was a calf!” laughed young Smith.

“Help!” roared Billy, seeing the boys.  “Here is a wild bull, and I am treed.  Shoot him, boys, drive him away, anything!”

Instead of doing anything the boys only stood there and laughed, and when Bucephalus and Ben Bowline came up in great haste they did the same, all joining in a full-voiced laughing chorus.

“Why don’t you help a fellow?” wailed Billy.  “There you all are, laughing to beat the band, and I can’t get down on account of this wild bull at the foot of the tree.”

“Wild bull nothing!” exclaimed Percival.  “It is a three months’ old calf, and you’re another, only you are a bit older than that.  Can’t you tell a calf when you see one, or have you been brought up in the city where they don’t have them except in the way of veal cutlets?”

“That a calf?” asked Billy in disgust.  “I thought it was a wild bull.  He makes noise enough.”

“Probably calling for its mother,” laughed young Smith.  “I said it was a calf right along.”

“Shoo!” said Buck, advancing on the terrible wild bull, which had so frightened Billy.  “Get o’t o’ dat or Ah cut yo’ up fo’ de young ge’men’s dinnah.  Shoo!”

The calf let out a tremendous bellow, and scampered off into the woods, whereat the boys laughed harder than ever till the tears fairly ran down their cheeks.

“That’s a good one on Billy who is all the time getting off jokes on other folks,” said Percival.  “That is too good to keep.”