He may have won the battle, but he lost the war.
I went over to the neighbors after Gramma got home to watch the urchins and the neighbor joined me on his horse. I pushed, he played wing man and we got smarty pants, little bull pushed out the gate and across the road. He of course immediately tried to run north to get back across the fence, but me and Beaver pursued him poste haste, while liberally applying a bull whip to his neither regions. ( that is why they call it a bull whip, after all!)
We won the war.
I am just a little bit smug about that. and Beaver was laffing!