But he seemed to nurse a special grudge against the man.
This appeared when, a stone's-throw beyond our seat, the man sprang sideways to the left of his course--in the nick of time, too, for as he sprang he seemed to clear the horns by a bare foot.

The bull's heavier rush carried him forward for several yards before he swerved himself on to the new line of pursuit; and this let up Master Archibald, who by this time had his side-arm loose.
"Ham-string 'en!" yelled a blue-shirted butcher, pausing beside us and panting.

"Quick, you fool--ham-string 'en!" For some reason the young man seemed to hesitate.

Likely enough he did not hear; perhaps had lost presence of mind.

At any rate, for a second or so, his arm hung on the stroke, and as the bull swerved again he jabbed his bayonet feebly at the haunch.
The butcher swore furiously.