“She was mounted on his back, and off he rushed with her—­up hill, down dale, by rocky ground and smooth, across rivers and through forests he rushed, said the girl, faster and faster, till at last, as evening fell, he came to a stand and spoke to her for the first time.

“‘What time of day must it be by this, king’s daughter?’ he said.

“The girl considered for a moment.  Then, forgetting her pretended position, she replied thoughtlessly,

“’It must be getting late.  About the time that my father gathers the flowers to adorn the king’s and queen’s supper table.’

“‘Throw thee once, throw thee twice, throw thee thrice,’ roared the bull, each time shaking the girl roughly, and the last time flinging her off his back.  ’Shame on thee, gardener’s daughter, and thou wouldst call thyself a true Princess.’

“And with that he left her bruised and frightened out of her wits on the ground, and rushed off by himself whither she knew not.  And it was not till two days later that the unfortunate gardener’s daughter found her way home, glad enough, one may be sure, to be again there in safety.

“In the meantime the ravages and terrors caused by the terrible bull had begun again, and, as before, messengers came incessantly to the king entreating him to find some means of protecting his unfortunate subjects.  And the king and queen were half beside themselves with anxiety.  Only one thing they were determined on—­nothing must be told to the Princess.

CHAPTER IX.

THE BROWN BULL—­(Continued).

“And she
Told them an old-world history.” 
MATTHEW ARNOLD.

“‘She is so courageous,’ said the queen, ’there is no knowing what she might not do.’

“‘She is so kind-hearted,’ said the king; ’she might imagine it her duty to sacrifice herself to our people.’

“And the poor king and queen wept copiously at the mere thought, and all the ladies and attendants of the Princess were ordered on no account to let a breath of the terrible story be heard by her.  Yet, after all, it so happened that her suspicions were aroused afresh by the sight this time of the weeping Bruna.  For nothing else could be suggested than again to try to deceive the monster; and Bruna, a still prettier girl than the gardener’s daughter, was this time chosen to represent the Princess.  But all happened as before.  The brown bull rushed off with his prize, the whole day the unfortunate Bruna was shaken on his back, and again, as night began to fall, he stopped at the same spot.

“‘What time must it be by this, king’s daughter?’ he asked.

“Foolish Bruna, thankful to have a moment’s rest, answered hastily,

“’O brown bull, it must be getting late, and I am sorely tired.  It must be about the time that my mother takes all the eggs that have been laid in the day to the king’s kitchen.’