He does not live in the cowhouse with the other horned people; he has a house all to himself two fields away.
Oswald and Alice went to fetch him.

They took a halter to lead the bull by, and a whip, not to hurt the bull with, but just to make him mind.
The others were to try to get one of the horses while we were gone.
Oswald as usual was full of bright ideas.
'I daresay,' he said, 'the bull will be shy at first, and he'll have to be goaded into the arena.' 'But goads hurt,' Alice said.
'They don't hurt the bull,' Oswald said; 'his powerful hide is too thick.' 'Then why does he attend to it,' Alice asked, 'if it doesn't hurt ?' 'Properly-brought-up bulls attend because they know they ought,' Oswald said.

'I think I shall ride the bull,' the brave boy went on.
'A bull-fight, where an intrepid rider appears on the bull, sharing its joys and sorrows.

It would be something quite new.' 'You can't ride bulls,' Alice said; 'at least, not if their backs are sharp like cows.' But Oswald thought he could.

The bull lives in a house made of wood and prickly furze bushes, and he has a yard to his house.