"Well," continued Walter Tracy, "Emily ran and Rose ran; but I thought it beyond the dignity of my profession to run before a single enemy, though he was defended by a horn-work--perhaps lumbago had to do with it as well as dignity, if the truth must be told. But our worthy friend soon applied a cataplasm to my lumbago more effectual than any of Sandy Woodyard's; for in two minutes I was sprawling. Master Bull then thought he might as well take room for a rush, and ran back five or six steps to gore me the more vigorously; when suddenly a new combatant appeared in the field, in the shape of a little urchin, not so high as my hip, who made at the enemy with all sorts of shrieks and screams, so that if the beast did not think it was the devil come to my rescue, I did. But the poor boy fared ill for his pains; for just as I was scrambling up, I saw something in the air, small and black, with a great many legs and arms flying about in all directions, just like a spider in a web between two cabbages; and down came the poor child, with a fall which I thought must have dashed his brains out." "Good Heaven!" cried Mr. Tracy, "was he hurt? Was he not killed?" "Hurt, he certainly was," answered his brother; "and killed most likely, both he and I would have been, but--as in the story of Camaralzaman, which some heathen of the present day has changed into Kummer al Zemaun, or some other horrible name, violating all the associations of our childhood, the true temple of Cybele to the heart--no sooner was one army disposed of than another appeared. Up ran a man with a stick in his hand, a stout, tall, powerful country fellow, in a fustian jacket; (Rose held down her head and smiled, without any one remarking her;) and, seizing our friend the bull by the tail, thrashed him for some five minutes in a most scientific manner. He must have been used to belabouring bulls all his life, like a Spanish _matador_; for nothing but long practice would have made him so proficient in an art not very easy to exercise. Rose, my flower, what are you laughing at?" "I think it was enough to make any one laugh," answered Rose, "to see how foolish the representative of our nation looked while he was receiving such a cudgelling. I was too frightened to laugh then, my dear uncle; but here, by the side of this table, I can enjoy the joke at my ease." "It was no joke then, indeed," said General Tracy; "for it was a matter of life and death between the brave lad and the bull. He had no resource in the end, however, but to hamstring him, which he also did most scientifically; and I believe that more than one of us has to thank him for being here at this moment. It turned out that the man was your new gardener, Arthur; and we must really see what can be done for him. As to the gallant little gipsey boy, I have taken care of him myself, and will provide for him."