It consisted of two sticks that looked like the legs of a scarecrow which had a square board fastened in front of them.  From between the sticks were two other brown objects, long and thin, and behind it sat a young man busily engaged in transferring the peaceful scene to canvas.  Miss Jones was gazing curiously at this object, with her red parasol hung over her shoulder, so that it was impossible for her to see anything behind her.  But she did hear an unusual noise—­a snort, then a bellow—­the sound was unmistakable.  With a sense of sickening terror she gave one horrified glance behind her.  She had been mysteriously lured into a field where a bull was loose.  It never occurred to Miss Jones to throw away her red parasol.  She ran on, waving it wildly over her shoulders, maddening the enraged animal behind her.  Miss Jones did not believe she could run fast.  Usually her breath was short, and even a rapid walk fatigued her.  Now she ran on and on.  Once again she half heard a mocking voice cry after her, but she paid no attention to it.  In her fright she was also oblivious to the fact that the strange object in the corner of the field fell to the ground with a bang, while a man sitting on a stool behind it rose to right his overturned canvas.  “Drop it, drop it!” he shouted, running after Miss Jones and repeatedly urging her to throw away her bright red parasol.

Madge, Phil and Lillian had come back to the boat.  After dancing in a circle around Eleanor to express the rapture they felt in the transformation she had wrought in their beloved houseboat, they stood together on the deck, looking for the return of their chaperon along the shore.

Miss Jones thought there was a gate at the end of the field in which she was running.  She made for this gate, as she knew she would not have time to get over the fence before the animal would be upon her.  In her terror she had but one idea, one hope, that was to reach the safety of the gang-plank and to climb aboard the houseboat.

While Miss Jones was running for her life the four chums were lingering about the deck of the “Merry Maid” watching for her return.  They decided to take a short walk with the idea of meeting her and, leaving their boat to take care of itself, strolled through the lane that led to the very field Miss Jones had entered.  All at once Lillian called out in terror: 

“O girls! look!  It’s Miss Jones, and a bull is chasing her!”

The four chums stood rooted to the spot.  What could they do?  They felt powerless to help, yet not one of the girls believed Miss Jones could save herself.

Madge was the first to act.  In her hand was a large white and green striped umbrella.  The girls had lately bought two of them to use out on deck as a protection from the sun, and Madge had caught up one of them as they started out.  In the next instant she had climbed the fence that separated her from the field in which the teacher was running and was making for the frightened woman at the top of her speed.