From his muzzle dribbled the froth of his anger, as he stiffened his great neck and rumbled a challenge to all the world.

Twice, when the gate moved an inch or two and creaked with straining, he came at it so viciously that it jammed again; indeed, it was the batterings of the bull that had made it so hard to open.
Valencia, catching a timbered crosspiece, gave it a lift and a heave.
The gate came suddenly free and slid back as they strained at the crosspiece.

The bull, from the far side of the pen where he had backed for another rush, shot clear through the opening and half-way across the adobe corral before he realized that he was free.
The bear, at pause in her circlings while she snuffed at the bars that now separated her from her cubs, whirled and lifted herself awkwardly upon her haunches, her narrow head thrust forward sinisterly as she faced this fresh annoyance.

Midway, the bull stopped with two or three stiff-legged jumps and glared at her, a little chagrined, perhaps, at the sudden transformation from human foe to this grizzled hill-giant whom instinct had taught him to fear.

In his calf-hood he had fled many times before the menace of grizzly, and perhaps he remembered.