“Oh, so it is the bull,” remarked Mrs. Bunker, when, from a distant hill, they had watched the powerful animal running about. “I hope the fence is good and strong so he can’t get loose,” said Violet. “I guess Farmer Joel wouldn’t turn the bull into a field unless the fence was good and strong,” replied Mrs. Bunker. “Mother, what would we do if the bull got loose and chased us?” Margy asked. “The best thing to do, I suppose,” said Mother Bunker, “would be to run and get on the other side of a strong fence, if it could be done. Or climb a tree. Bulls can’t go up trees.” “But after you got up into the tree he might hit the tree with his head and knock you out and hook you, mightn’t he?” asked Violet. “Well, he might,” replied her mother. “Perhaps it would be best not to go anywhere near the bull. But if he should come after you—run away somewhere or get behind a fence or something.” “He’s terrible strong, isn’t he?” observed Mun Bun, as he watched the bull hitting his head against the fence as if trying to knock it over. “He is, indeed. Bulls are very strong,” said his mother. “I should think Farmer Joel would be afraid this one would knock the fence down. But perhaps it is all right.” However, the fence was not all right, or else the bull was stronger than was supposed, for a few days later something very alarming took place. Russ and Rose had been left in charge of the four smaller Bunkers while their father and mother went visiting a distant farmer whom Mr. Bunker had known some years before. “Let’s go down and look at the water wheel,” suggested Russ, for Laddie, Violet, Mun Bun and Margy never seemed to tire of this. “Will that old peddler boy come and hit you again?” Mun Bun wanted to know. “No, I guess he’s gone away,” answered Russ. Down to the brook they went, a merry, happy group of children. They threw stones into the water, set little bits of wood afloat, pretending they were boats, and had a good time watching the splashing water wheel. Suddenly Laddie, who had wandered off a little way to gather some brown cattails growing in a swampy place, came running back, fear showing on his face. “He—he’s coming!” gasped Laddie. “Who? That peddler boy?” demanded Russ, clenching his fists. “No! The mad bull! He’s coming! Look out!” shouted Laddie. CHAPTER XXII AFTER WILD FLOWERS For a moment or two Russ did not know whether or not Laddie was joking. The little fellow often played tricks, and this might be one of these times. But when Russ looked at Laddie’s face the older Bunker boy felt sure there must be something wrong. Still, before getting excited about it, and, perhaps, unnecessarily frightening Rose, Margy, Mun Bun and Violet, it might be well to make sure. So Russ asked: “Which way is he coming, Laddie?” “Right across the lots,” was the answer. “I saw him when I was after cattails. He’s coming right this way!”