"The mischief the bull have done. He's gone and gored Farmer Ryle." The words arrested the attention of all. They came forward, as with one impulse. Cris and his sister, in their haste, upset the backgammon-board. "_What_ do you say, Bill?" gasped Mrs. Chattaway, with white face and faltering voice. "It's true, ma'am," said Bill. "The bull set on him this afternoon, and tossed him into the ditch. Master George found him there a short while agone, groaning awful." There was a startled pause. "I--I--hope he is not much injured?" said Mrs. Chattaway at last, in her consternation. "He says it's his death, ma'am. John Pinder and others have brought a bed, and be carrying of him home on it." "What brought Mr. Ryle in that field?" asked Miss Diana. "He telled me, ma'am, he was a-coming up here to see the Squire, and took that way to save time." Mrs. Chattaway fell back a little. "Cris," said she to her son, "go down to the farm and see what the injury is. I cannot sleep in the uncertainty. It may be fatal." Cris tossed his head. "You know, mother, I'd do almost anything to oblige you," he said, in his smooth accents, which had ever a false sound in them, "but I can't go to the farm. Mrs. Ryle might insult me: there's no love lost between us." "If the accident happened this afternoon, why was it not discovered when the bull was brought to his shed to-night?" cried Miss Trevlyn. Bill shook his head. "I dun know, ma'am. For one thing, Mr. Ryle was in the ditch, and couldn't be seen. And the bull, maybe, had gone to the top o' the field again, where the groaning wouldn't be heard." "If I had only been listened to!" exclaimed Mrs. Chattaway, in wailing accents. "How many a time have I asked that the bull should be parted with, before he did some fatal injury. And now it has come!" CHAPTER IV LIFE OR DEATH? Mr. Ryle was carried home on the mattress, and laid on the large table in the sitting-room, by the surgeon's directions. Mrs. Ryle, clear-headed and of calm judgment, had sent for medical advice even before sending for her husband. The only doctor available for immediate purposes was Mr. King, who lived about half-way between the farm and the village. He attended at once, and was at the house before his patient. Mrs. Ryle had sent also to Barmester for another surgeon, but he could not arrive just yet. It was by Mr. King's direction that the mattress was placed on the large table in the parlour. "Better there; better there," acquiesced the sufferer, when he heard the order given. "I don't know how they'd get me up the stairs." Mr. King, a man getting in years, was left alone with his patient. The examination over, he came forth from the room and sought Mrs. Ryle, who was waiting for the report. "The internal injuries are extensive, I fear," he said. "They lie chiefly here"--touching his chest and right side. "Will he _live_, Mr. King?" she interrupted. "Do not temporise, but let me know the truth. Will he live?"