"There is a gate into it from the field where the bull is. Oh, please, sir, it isn’t safe; the bull is awfully enraged," she added, as Colonel Mandeville walked towards the stile. He turned to say to the groom: "Follow me," and to his friend: "Manton, drive to the village and bring Dr. Burton along. I fear we shall want him." To Jane he said briefly: "Take the children home." Then he mounted the stile, and entered the field, a gun in his hand, which the groom had handed him from the stanhope. The gentlemen had been shooting. The bull was standing in the middle of the field. He sprang towards the fresh intruder with a bellow. Colonel Mandeville pointed his gun; there was a report, and the next instant the beast rolled over on his side, dead. The groom then followed his master. They had a little difficulty in opening the gate into the next field, but succeeded at last, and were able to get in. Under the shadow of the hedge Carol was lying--still, motionless. Colonel Mandeville knelt beside him. "Carol, Carol," he said softly, but there was no response. "Go to the farm as quickly as you can. Tell them to improvise an ambulance. Bring it along. Lose not a moment," he said to the groom. Then he knelt on the ground, trying again to awake the boy to consciousness: "My poor wife, how will she bear this?" he said to himself, knowing well that Carol was as dear to her as her youngest born, the Rosebud of the family. The signs of life were so faint, he could not hope the boy would ever regain consciousness. Dr. Burton was fortunately at home. In an inconceivably short time he arrived on the scene; and the groom returned with an ambulance, followed by the farmer, his wife, and some of the men, all anxious to give any assistance they could. Dr. Burton and Colonel Mandeville very tenderly lifted Carol on to the ambulance, a faint moan was the only sign of life, but all were glad to hear even that. Dr. Burton would not make any examination until they could lay him on a bed, and cut off his clothes. There was no question of breaking the news gently to Mrs. Mandeville; she was returning from a drive as the little girls reached the gates. They ran to her sobbing broken-heartedly. She was very calm, but her face grew deadly white, and wore again the strained expression which had been so frequent during the sad days of the war. She could not remain inactive, and walked to meet the sad procession. As soon as Colonel Mandeville saw her, he advanced quickly to her side, and turned her steps homeward. He would not let her see the boy as he lay on the ambulance, looking so like death.