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.