“I’ll go at the hedge to the right.”  And Johnny as he spoke dashed his stick about, so as to monopolise, for a moment, the attention of the brute.  The earl made a spring at the gate, and got well on to the upper rung.  The bull seeing that his prey was going, made a final rush upon the earl and struck the timber furiously with his head, knocking his lordship down on the other side.  Lord De Guest was already over, but not off the rail; and thus, though he fell, he fell in safety on the sward beyond the gate.  He fell in safety, but utterly exhausted.  Eames, as he had purposed, made a leap almost sideways at a thick hedge which divided the field from one of the Guestwick copses.  There was a fairly broad ditch, and on the other side a quickset hedge, which had, however, been weakened and injured by trespassers at this corner, close to the gate.  Eames was young and active and jumped well.  He jumped so well that he carried his body full into the middle of the quickset, and then scrambled through to the other side, not without much injury to his clothes, and some damage also to his hands and face.

The beast, recovering from his shock against the wooden bars, looked wistfully at his last retreating enemy, as he still struggled amidst the bushes.  He looked at the ditch and at the broken hedge, but he did not understand how weak were the impediments in his way.  He had knocked his head against the stout timber, which was strong enough to oppose him, but was dismayed by the brambles which he might have trodden under foot without an effort.  How many of us are like the bull, turning away conquered by opposition which should be as nothing to us, and breaking our feet, and worse still, our hearts, against rocks of adamant.  The bull at last made up his mind that he did not dare to face the hedge; so he gave one final roar, and then turning himself round, walked placidly back amidst the herd.

Johnny made his way on to the road by a stile that led out of the copse, and was soon standing over the earl, while the blood ran down his cheeks from the scratches.  One of the legs of his trousers had been caught by a stake, and was torn from the hip downward, and his hat was left in the field, the only trophy for the bull.  “I hope you’re not hurt, my lord,” he said.

“Oh dear, no; but I’m terribly out of breath.  Why, you’re bleeding all over.  He didn’t get at you, did he?”

“It’s only the thorns in the hedge,” said Johnny, passing his hand over his face.  “But I’ve lost my hat.”

“There are plenty more hats,” said the earl.

“I think I’ll have a try for it,” said Johnny, with whom the means of getting hats had not been so plentiful as with the earl.  “He looks quiet now.”  And he moved towards the gate.

But Lord De Guest jumped upon his feet, and seized the young man by the collar of his coat.  “Go after your hat!” said he.  “You must be a fool to think of it.  If you’re afraid of catching cold, you shall have mine.”