There was a narrow broken path up the bank. There was a high stile at
the top. But Chandos was up the one and over the other in a moment. He
did not like to hear a scream at all, and still less a scream from a
woman's lips. When he could see into the field, a sight presented
itself not altogether uncommon in England, where we seldom, if ever,
guard against an evil till it is done, and never take warning by an
evil that is done. More than twelve years ago, a pamphlet was printed,
called, "What will the Government do with the Railroads?"--and in it
was detailed very many of the evils which a prudent and scientific man
could foresee, from suffering railways to proceed unregulated. It was
sent, I believe, by the author to a friend who undertook to answer it.
The answer consisted of two or three sheets of paper, folded as a
book, and bearing on each page the word "Nothing." The answer was
quite right. Government did _nothing_--till it was too late.
People never tether dangerous bulls till they have killed someone; and
when Chandos entered the field, the first sight that met his eyes was
a tall, powerful old man on the ground, and two young and graceful
women at some distance: one still flying fast towards a gate, under
the first strong irresistible impulse of terror; the other, stopping
to gaze back, and wringing her hands in agony. Close by the old man
was an enormous brindled bull, with short horns, which was running
slowly back, with its eyes fixed upon the prostrate figure before it,
as if to make another rush at him as he lay; and at a short distance
from the bull was a ragged little boy, of some eight or nine years
old, who, with the spirit of a hero, was running straight towards the
furious beast, shouting loudly, in the vain hope, apparently, that his
infant voice would terrify the tyrant of the field.
Luckily, Chandos had a stout sapling oak in his hand; and he, too,
sprang forward with the swift fire of youth. But before he could reach
the spot, the bull, attracted by the vociferations of the boy, turned
upon his little assailant, and with a fearful rush caught him on his
horns, and tossed him high into the air. The next moment, however,
Chandos was upon him. He was young, active, tremendously powerful,
and, though not quite equal in strength to bull-bearing Milo, was no
insignificant antagonist. He had a greater advantage still, however.
He had been accustomed to country life from his early youth, and knew
the habits of every beast of the field. The bull, in attacking the
boy, had turned away from both the old man and Chandos, and, with a
bound forward, the latter seized the savage animal by the tail,
striking it furiously with his stick. The bull at first strove to turn
upon him, or to disengage himself; but Chandos held on with a grasp of
iron, though swung round and round by the efforts of his antagonist;
and all the time he thundered blows upon it as thick as hail; now upon
its side, now upon its head, but oftener upon its legs; and still he
shouted--as, in the desperate conflict, his eyes passed over the
figures of the two ladies, or the old man, who was now rising slowly
from the ground--"Run! run!"
How the combat was to end for himself, of course he knew not, for,
though staggering, and evidently intimidated by so sudden an attack,
the bull was still strong and furious; but Chandos had all his senses
in full activity, and when, after several fierce plunges to escape,
the animal again swung itself round to reach him, he aimed a
tremendous blow with his full force at the fore-knee, on which its
whole weight rested. The leg gave way under the pain, and the
monstrous beast rolled prostrate on the ground.
Not a minute was to be lost: the bull was struggling up again; but the
instinct of self-preservation is strong, and in a moment Chandos drew
a knife from his pocket, and cut a sinew of the leg--although it was
with pain and a feeling almost of remorse that he did it. The animal
gave a sort of shrill scream, and instantly rolled over on its side
again.
"There, that is done," said the young man, speaking to himself; and
then running up to the old gentleman, he inquired, "Are you hurt,
Sir?--Are you much hurt?"
"A little--not much," said General Tracy; "but the boy--the boy! You
are a gallant fellow, upon my life; but so is that poor boy."
The General received no reply, for Chandos was already by the side of
the boy. He gazed into his face as the little fellow lay upon his back
motionless. The dark hazel eyes were clear and bright, and the
complexion, bronzed with exposure, still showed a good ruddy glow in
the middle of the check.
"He cannot be much hurt," thought Chandos, as he bent earnestly over
him; "there is none of the paleness of bodily suffering; and, thank
God! the after-crop of grass is long and thick. Well, my boy," he
continued aloud, "what has the bull done to you?"
"Given me a skylarking," answered the boy, in a good strong voice.
"But has he hurt you anywhere?" asked Chandos; while General Tracy
moved slowly up, and the two young ladies stood, trembling and out of
breath, at a distance.
"No," said the little fellow; "he didn't poke me; he guv me a thump
under the arm, and I went over his head."
"But why do you not get up then?" inquired Chandos.
"Because it is comfortable to lie here; and because, when I try to get
up, my shoulder twinges," was the boy's answer.
"Let me look," said Chandos; and turning him upon his side, he pulled
down the collar of the ragged jacket, when he evidently saw a
protuberance which was never put upon any mortal shoulder by nature.
It was dislocated. The grief of General Tracy was great for the poor
boy's misfortune, incurred in his defence; but he gave it no exuberant
expression.
"You are a good boy," he said; "a very good boy; and you shall be
rewarded. Your shoulder will soon be well, and I will take care of
you. Who are your father and mother? We must send and let them know;"
and as he spoke, he looked round towards the bull, who, with a true
philosophical spirit, seemed, by this time, to have made up his mind
to his fate, and was lying quite still, with his fore quarters in the
natural position of a bull at rest, and his hind quarters thrown over
on one side, not altogether easy. His tongue was hanging out of his
mouth, too.
"My mother is Sally Stanley," answered the boy; "and who my father is
I don't know."
"Right," said the General, laconically; "right, to a proverb."
"Did not I see you with the gipseys this morning?" inquired Chandos.
"Are you not little Tim?"
"Yes," answered the gipsey boy; and the moment after he added, "there
comes farmer Thorpe. He'll be precious angry with you for hocking his
bull."
"Then you are not the owner of the bull?" said General Tracy, turning
quickly to Chandos.
"Oh, no, Sir," answered the other; "I was only passing by chance, and
heard a lady scream, which made me run to give help. I have just been
engaged as head-gardener to Mr. Arthur Tracy."
"He should have engaged you as bull-driver," said the General, "as
bull-fighter, as matador."
"Perhaps he may not have much work in that way, Sir," answered
Chandos; and was about to retire; but the General exclaimed, "Stay,
stay! What can we do with this poor lad? He is a fine fellow. I must
take care of him for life; for I rather think he has saved mine at the
risk of his own. I wish we could get him down to my brother's place;
for we must have his shoulder looked to, in the first instance."
At that moment, a stout, black-browed, middle-aged man came across the
field, looked down at the bull for a moment, and then advanced, with a
sturdy and determined look, to General Tracy and Chandos, without
saying a word till he was close to them, when he exclaimed, with a
very menacing air, "Holla, Sirs, what have you been doing with my
bull?"
"What has your bull, if that one be yours, been doing with us? is the
question which should be asked," replied General Tracy, turning sharp
upon him; but wincing dreadfully, as if the sudden movement gave him
great pain.
"That's by the mark," answered the farmer, staring at the General
first, and at Chandos afterwards; as if the spirit of his own bull had
entered into him, and he was determined to toss them both. "He is a
brute beast, and accountable to no un; but them as ha' hocked un are
reasonable creeturs, and accountable to I. So, I say, what ha' you two
been doing with my bull?"
"The first thing I did with him," answered Chandos, "was what I will
do to you, if you are insolent, master farmer. I gave him a good
thrashing. And in the next place, as there was no chance of saving my
life, and that of others, from him, if I spared him, I was obliged to
cut the tendon of his leg, in self-defence."
"Oh! you thrashed un, did you?" said the farmer, pulling off his coat;
"and you'll thrash me, will you? Now, let's see."
"I insist upon nothing of this kind taking place," said General Tracy,
seeing Chandos quietly deposit his stick on the grass. "Rose, my love,
run by that gate, to the Plough and Harrow public-house. The landlord
is a constable. Tell him to come here. I intend to give this man into
charge. I recollect hearing before of this bull being a dangerous
animal, and of farmer Thorpe having been warned to take proper
precautions. Be quick, Rose; for I will punish this man if I live."
"Oh, that's to be the way, is it?" said the rude farmer, in a tone not
less insolent than ever; "if folks can't fight without constables for
their bottle-holders, that's not my plan; but I can tell you one
thing, old Tracy--for I know you well enough--I'll have the law of you
for doing a mischief to my bull; and this fellow I'll thrash heartily
the first time I can get him without a constable to back him. So, good
day to you all, and be damned."
With this just, eloquent, and courteous speech farmer Thorpe resumed
his coat, and returned to the side of his bull. While General Tracy
remarked dryly to the two young ladies, who had now joined him, "We
came out, my flowers, to see a specimen of the real English peasant,
and we have found one, though not a very favourable one, it must be
confessed. But now, what is to be done with the poor boy. If I could
but get him down to the house, we would send for old Andrew Woodyard,
the surgeon."
"I'd rather go home to mother," said the boy; "she'll put my shoulder
all right, in a minute."
"Your mother is no more capable of putting that shoulder right, than
she is of flying through the air on a broomstick," replied the
General.
"I will carry him down, Sir," said Chandos; "I was going to catch the
coach; but I must put off my journey till to-morrow, I suppose; for the
poor lad must be attended to."
He accordingly lifted him up off the grass, and was about to carry him
down to Northferry House, in his arms; but little Tim, though by the
grimaces he made it was evident he suffered much pain, declared he
would rather walk, saying, that it did not hurt him half so much as
being "lugged along by any one." Chandos, who knew something of the
habits of his people, exacted a solemn promise from him, that he would
not attempt to run away; and, in return, assured him that his mother
should be sent for instantly. With this little Tim seemed satisfied;
and as they walked along, the General entered into consultation with
his nieces and Chandos, as to what was best to be done with the boy,
on his arrival; for he suddenly remembered a very fierce and
intractable prejudice which his brother had against all
copper-coloured wanderers. "The boy might pass well enough," he said,
"for he's as fair (very nearly) as an Englishman; but if his mother
and all his anomalous kindred, are to come down and visit him, we
shall have brother Arthur dying of gout in the stomach, as sure as if
he ate two Cantalupe melons before going to bed."
It was finally settled, however, on the suggestion of Chandos, that
little Tim should be taken down to the head-gardener's cottage, which
was at some distance from the house, and he himself promised to remain
there the night, till the injuries the boy had received could be
properly attended to.
In the council of war, which ended in this determination, it must be
remarked that Rose Tracy took no part, though her sister Emily did.
Rose said not one word, but came a little behind the rest, and more
than once she looked at Chandos, with a long earnest gaze, then
dropped into silent thought.