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?"