"Beautiful! I wouldn't have missed that for anything." I looked up and saw two girls, one in a white dress and red jacket, the other in a yellow shirt and slacks. I snarled at them, "Shall I do it again?" The nut with the shotgun came loping up making loud demands, and I told him to shut up, and scrambled to my feet. The fence was 10 yards away. Limping to it, I took a look. The bull was slowly walking along, a hundred feet off, wiggling his head. In the middle of the pasture was an ornamental statue. It was Nero Wolfe, with his arms folded, his stick hanging from a wrist, standing motionless on the rounded peak of the boulder. It was the first time I had ever seen him in any such position as that, and I stood and stared because I had never fully realized what a remarkable looking object he really was. He didn't actually look undignified, but there was something pathetic about it, he stood so still, not moving at all.

I called to him, "Okay, boss?"

He called back, 'Tell that man with the gun I want to speak to him when I get out of here! Tell him to get someone to pen that bull!"

I turned. The guy didn't look like a bull penner. He looked more scared than mad, and he looked small and skinny in his overalls and denim shirt. His face was weathered and his nose was cockeyed. He had followed me to the fence, and now demanded:

"Who air you fellows? Why didn't you go back when I hollered at you? Where the hell-"

"Hold it, mister. Introductions can wait. Can you put that bull in a pen?"

"No, I can't. And I want to tell you-"

"Is there someone here who can?"

"No, they ain't. They've gone off to the fair. They'll be back in an hour maybe. And I want to tell you-"

"Tell me later. Do you expect him to stand on that rock with his arms folded for an hour?"