"To what low estate have I fallen!" soliloquized Wellington Bunn, wiping his heated brow. He was wearing a slouch hat, instead of his beloved silk one, and was attired in shabby garments, as befitted his character of a farmhand. "The idea of a man who has played the immortal Shakespearean characters falling so low as to consort with wild bulls. Ah, it is pitiful--pitiful!" he murmured. "You didn't consort mit dat bull very much!" put in Mr. Switzer, with a cheerful laugh. "I saw you trying to git behint a corn stalk, to consort mit 'im alretty yet!" "Certainly, I did not wish to be trampled on," replied Mr. Bunn, with dignity--that is, with as much dignity as he could muster under the circumstances. "Oh, to what low estate have I fallen! A mere country bumpkin--I, who once played Hamlet!" The others were recovering their spirits, now that the danger was over. Sandy and Russ followed the trail of the bull through the corn, and soon they had him before the gate of his own enclosure. "That gate is open!" exclaimed the young farmer. "I don't see how it happened. There is something wrong here." The bull was driven in, and then an examination disclosed the fact that the lock of the gate had been broken; by a stone, evidently, for a shattered rock lay on the ground nearby. "This is strange," murmured Sandy. "Someone has done this on purpose, I don't like it--after what happened the other night." "What was that?" asked Russ. "Why, Mr. Pertell and I saw a suspicious-looking man out in the road, and we chased him," and he told of the circumstance. "And you think he broke this lock to let the bull out?" asked the moving picture operator. "Well, he might have, but I can't think what his object would be, unless he wanted to spoil some of your moving pictures. Have you got any enemies?" Russ thought of Simp Wolley and Bud Briskett, who had tried to get his invention, as told in the preceding volume, "The Moving Picture Girls," but they were in jail, as far as he knew. Clearly there was some mystery here, but it was not to be solved at once. The gate was made as secure as possible, and Sandy said he would get a new lock that day. "I reckon you folks don't want old Nero buttin' in on you again," he said to Russ. "Indeed we don't!" answered the young operator. He was puzzled over Sandy's suggestion as to whether or not some enemy had loosed the dangerous animal. A little later the end of the interrupted scene was filmed again, and then the actors and actresses were at liberty for the rest of the day. "I declare, Laura!" exclaimed Miss Pennington, "I'm so nervous about that bull that I don't want any more farm plays." "Me, either," returned her chum. "But really, the summer is a bad time to change. I think we'll have to stay with Mr. Pertell; but I can't bear this company since those DeVere girls came in." "Nor can I. They give themselves such airs!"