“People talk about the quiet life on a farm!” Mrs. Bunker said to her husband when she came home that evening and heard what had taken place. “This far our vacation has been anything but quiet.” “The children seem to enjoy it, though,” said Mr. Bunker. “Even being chased by a bull appears to agree with them. I never saw them with such appetites,” for this talk took place at the supper table. “Oh, they can always eat,” laughed Mrs. Bunker. “I’m glad of that.” Farmer Joel made sure the next day that the bull’s fence was made so strong that he could not again get out, and all the hired men were told to be very careful if they opened the gate to make positive that it was fastened. “What are you children going to do to-day?” asked Farmer Joel at the breakfast table the next morning. “Are you going to chase any more bulls?” “Oh! Why, we didn’t chase _him_! He chased _us_!” exclaimed Violet, looking at her mother in surprise. “Farmer Joel is only joking, my dear,” said her mother, and then Violet saw the twinkle in his eyes. “If you have nothing special to do,” went on Mr. Todd, “you might gather some wild flowers. There’s going to be a church sociable, and my sister generally gathers flowers to decorate. But as she isn’t here now——” “We’ll get the flowers for you,” quickly offered Mrs. Bunker. “Come, children, we’ll go to the woods and get flowers for the church.” They were soon on their way to a place where, Farmer Joel said, many kinds of wild flowers grew. All six of the little Bunkers went with their mother. They strolled through the field, and in a distant pasture saw the old bull that had chased them. But he seemed good-natured now, for he was lying under a tree asleep. “Oh, I have a riddle!” suddenly cried Laddie. “When is a bad bull a good bull?” “After he gets whipped, maybe,” suggested Russ. “After they give him salt,” said Rose, when Laddie had said Russ was wrong. “No, that isn’t it,” the riddle-giver replied. “A bad bull is a good bull when he’s asleep.” “He’s like some children I know,” said Mrs. Bunker, with a smile. Then they reached the place where the wild flowers grew and began to pick them. There were many and beautiful blossoms. Rose was reaching over to gather a red bloom when suddenly she heard a queer sound near her. “Oh, Russ!” she cried. “It’s a rattlesnake!” CHAPTER XXIII A MEAN BOY Rose dropped her bunch of wild flowers and ran toward her brother. As for Russ, he hardly knew what to do. He, also, had heard the buzzing, rattling sound and he had heard stories of how poisonous rattlesnakes are. “Don’t let him get me! Don’t let the snake bite me!” Rose cried. “I don’t see any snake,” Russ answered, looking down in the grass. His mother and the other children were some distance off. “I don’t see it, but I heard it,” Rose exclaimed, very much excited.