“Looks like a clothesline to me, Bones,” replied the other, without much enthusiasm in his voice. “I thought Frank was smarter than that. If he thinks he’s going to lasso this big bull with that rope and hold him even one minute he’s sure got another guess coming to him.” “Now, you leave all that to Frank,” advised the other. “You’ve been goin’ with him long enough to know that he’s smart about getting up schemes; yes, and carryin’ ’em out, too. Wait and see what he says, Lanky, before you decide about eatin’ your supper on a limb.” Frank came hurrying along and just as Lanky had said, he was carrying what seemed to be a coiled clothesline, for the rope was certainly made of cotton and seemed rather thin at that. “Where’s Farmer Hobson, Frank?” asked the boy on the limb. “Gone with a load of stuff to Columbia, and won’t be home till late to-night,” came the reply, as Frank arrived opposite the spot where the determined bull kept watch and ward over his prize. “And hasn’t he got a man?” wailed Lanky, as though he began to feel that everything was conspiring against him. Frank went on calmly undoing the rope foot by foot, and testing it. “Yes; but he’s sick on his back with lumbago, and couldn’t hobble out here; so I told him not to try, and that I’d find some way to get you out, all right.” “I’m surprised at you, Frank,” ventured Lanky, wishing for information. “In what way?” asked the other, coolly, once more starting to loop up the rope, as though getting ready to throw it. “Why, even if you manage to get that rope over his horns it won’t hold a minute. Look at his broad chest and heavy shoulders, would you? Why, that bull could snap such a little rope five times over.” “I reckon he could, Lanky,” Frank went on, laughing; “but you see, I don’t expect to use it on him as a lasso. Fact is, I mean it for you!” “What’s that; goin’ to get it over my neck, and yank me out of this tree! I sure like that kind of talk. It shows a kind heart; but my neck is stretched as long as it can go; so you’ll have to think up some other dodge, Frank.” “Listen,” said Frank, seriously. “If I throw this loop to you, or get Bones here to try it, do you think you could grab hold of it?” “Try me!” said Lanky, laconically. “Well, when you get the end, go as far as you can in your tree, and tie the doubled rope there. Afterwards I’m going to fasten the other end to this tree we’ve got on _our_ side of the fence. Understand now what I mean, Lanky? You’ve got to do the tight-rope act; and come out of there by the aerial route, with Mr. Bull prancing under your heels, but unable to reach you. How do you like the scheme?” CHAPTER III THE GYPSY CARAVAN “It’s a screamer!” exclaimed Lanky, immediately. “What I call a peach!” ejaculated Bones Shadduck. “Say, what was I tellin’ you, Lanky; didn’t I say our Frank would get up a plan that was goin’ to beat anything you ever heard tell of? Oh! hurry up, and let’s get things started.”