Wave of Terror by Theodore Odrach

the face-off to begin. And sure enough, at that very moment Striker started digging his heels into the ground and kicking up his feet. He released several long ear-splitting yelps, and then, with his eyes gleaming fiercely, charged after Cornelius. Cornelius took to his heels and fled; blood rushed to his head and sweat poured down his back. Coming to the barn and pressing himself up against the wall, holding his arms out in self-defense, he cried, “Down, boy, down! I’m not your enemy! Come on, let me take you home!”
    But the bull only became more enraged. The black hairs on his back stood on end and he snorted wildly. Cornelius braced himself for the fight of his life.
    The crowd waited in suspense. Cornelius dared not move a muscle, and flicking his eyes left and right, quickly considered his options. Should he try again to calm Striker, or should he make a run for it? Finally he made a decision, and as fast as his legs could carry him, fled toward the garden fence.
    Panting heavily, aiming his horns, the bull took after him in full force. The distance between them lessened with each secondand Cornelius could feel the bull’s hot breath on his neck. The bull almost took him down with his horns, but with a stroke of luck, somehow Cornelius managed to scramble up and over the fence to safety. Striker shook with rage and foamed at the mouth.
    “Hah! Hah!” Cornelius laughed, peering victoriously through the paling. “I’ve outsmarted you, you bourgeois bastard! You tried to pin me with your horns, and I outdid you.” Then boastfully to the crowd, “Cornelius Kovzalo, Village Chairman, has been through hell and high water! And today all he had to do was jump the fence to win the game! Hah, hah, hah!”
    Sniffing the fence for a moment or two, Striker began to grunt and snort and swing his enormous body. Growing increasingly agitated, he seemed determined to get to the other side. Aiming his horns, he rammed them into the half-rotted planks, stabbing at each one as if with a knife. It was not long before the entire fence collapsed, and the bull once again took after Cornelius, who ran like the wind. But which way should he go? The fence connecting the garden to the outlying pasture was much too far, he’d never make it, and the crowd was even farther away. Cornelius ran in a zigzag and made his way into the orchard. Not knowing which way to go, he spotted a young
antonivka
and dashed toward it. Grabbing hold of a limb, he scrambled up the trunk and balanced himself on a branch halfway up. By the time the bull reached the tree, Cornelius was already safely out of reach. Shaking like a leaf, he called out to the crowd:
    “Someone, quick, throw me up a revolver!”
    But the bull wouldn’t let up. Taking a step backward, his body in full swing, with all his might, he rammed his head into the tree. The young
antonivka
shook as if in a terrible storm. Rotted apples dropped to the ground and branches crackled. The bull banged the tree again and again.
    “Help! Help!” cried Cornelius desperately.
    The people roared with laughter and clapped their hands.
    At that moment Kirilo emerged from the barn, and cautiously approached the bull. In his right hand he carried a large clump of hay. He called out softly: “Caesar, hey, Caesar, come here. Whydon’t you leave that idiot up in the tree, let him spend the night up there if he wants to. Come on, boy, I brought you some hay.”
    The bull, hearing Kirilo’s voice, calmed down almost instantly. Giving a slight toss to his head and lowering his eyes, he began to swish his tail back and forth. Kirilo lifted the rope that was tied around his neck and stroked him gently behind the ears. The bull stuck out his thick, prickly tongue and affectionately licked his hand.
    The crowd cheered. Kirilo became an instant hero.
    In the meantime, Cornelius could not find the courage to climb down from the tree. It was not until he saw Kirilo lead the bull into the barn and shut the door