What a lovely day it was! The sun was shining, the sky was clear, and at breeze was stirring. My sisters, cousins, and I

agreed that it was a perfect day to play our favorite game, Hide-and-Go-Seek. After much discussion the teams were chosen

and the game began. My team was chosen to hide first. The selection of a hiding spot was difficult. There were just so many

choices! One after one, possibilities of secret refuges flashed through my mind. The shoulder-high grass in one of the

pastures; the ditch at the foot of two sloping terraces; the apple, mulberry, and cottonwood trees; the prickly hedges in front

of the porch; the old, dusty, creaky barn piled high with musty hay; and the muddy culvert with weeds and cobwebs

obscuring its openings were all excellent places. They would have been perfect had there not bee one problem: we had used

them all before. It would take only minutes before I would have been discovered and pursued to the base. The risk was too

great. I wanted to win. I had to think of a new hiding place! Suddenly I had an idea. Marching down a passageway formed by

parallel barbed wire fences, I felt confident that I would be undiscovered. Upon reaching the end I stood, laughing and

waiting. Then it came, “Ready or not, here we come!” I was absolutely ready for them, but I was totally unprepared for what

happened next. My grandpa’s massive, black bull came thundering through the midst of a herd of inquisitive cows which had

been milling about. The bull, whose weight exceeded a ton, was huge. He charged close. Never had a barbed wire fence

appeared so flimsy! Angrily, the bull pawed the ground with his dangerous hooves. Terrified I stared at the giant animal. My

mouth went dry, my heart pounded, and my brain clouded. I gradually started anxiously retreating in the direction from which

I had come. The snorting bull followed. The bull seemed to become more irate as the seconds passed. Nothing could calm him.

He snorted at my quiet words, tossed his head at my offered grass, and totally ignored any signs of friendliness on my part.

As he wheeled on his powerful hind legs, I darted down the path which seemed to have become drastically narrow. His

pounding hooves spurred me on until I was jerked to a stop. For on horrid instant I just knew he had caught me. Fortunately,

it was only a spike on the fence that had snagged the edge of my flapping jacket. Wrenching myself free I continued my flight

from the close approaching bull. Although at that moment I was only concerned with reaching the house safely, I later

fervently vowed never to become a toreador.