They were now passing a cross street, very narrow and awkward. There was a block in front, so that Lord Woodville halted exactly opposite this street. He was talking to the Abbot of Quarr, who was on his left. Ralph was immediately behind, but a horse’s length distant. The rest of the gentlemen were engaged talking together or looking up at the windows, where the burgesses’ wives and daughters were gazing down at the gallant show of men-at-arms and gentlemen. Suddenly, a drove of cattle which was being driven to market crossed the narrow street a little way down. Among them was a magnificent bull--very fierce and irritated with its journey. Seeing the red blazon on Lord Woodville’s surcoat, with a bellow of fury he broke from his driver and turned down the street leading to where that nobleman was quietly sitting, with his head turned away talking to the Abbot, and rushed madly at him. It was but a very little distance, and there was no time for warning. In another second the fierce bull would have gored the noble horse and trampled on Lord Woodville. Ralph, without a moment’s hesitation, struck spurs into his horse, which gave a leap forward. He had thought of nothing but of interposing himself between his lord and the raging brute. Fortunately for him, he was not in time. But his gallant steed struck full against the shoulder of the bull with such violence that it knocked the animal over, and Ralph’s horse came down at the same time, flinging his rider over his head. The whole thing had passed so rapidly, and, from the position of the chief performers in the occurrence, was so little seen, that scarcely anybody knew what had happened. Lord Woodville was the first to take in the situation, and seeing the position of the bull, the horse, and the boy, was alarmed for the latter’s safety. The horse had stumbled over the bull, which was struggling and kicking wildly with its legs, while, fortunately, Ralph had been thrown clear of them both. He still held the reins in his hands, but he did not move. "By’r Lady! the child’s dead!" cried Lord Woodville, drawing his sword, and leaning down from his horse. So close was the huddled mass of struggling animals, and so narrowly had he escaped destruction, that, without dismounting, he calmly passed the keen edge across the upturned neck of the bull, which gave a few wild plunges and then lay still. "See to the horse," said the Captain of the Wight, as he got off his own animal and went up to Ralph. There was blood flowing from the side of his head. He had been thrown with considerable force on to the pavement. The crowd began now to understand what had happened, and the crush became great. "Clear me a way, knaves!" cried Lord Woodville. "Keep back the varlets, Sir John; and go for a leech, Eustace Bowerman."