tador, Billy played the bull.

Drawing a stout wooden sword, the handiwork of Sir Tancred, who never
dreamed of the purpose it served, from its hiding-place in the hedge,
Tinker slipped over the gate. Billy greeted his playfellow with an
ill-conditioned grunt expressive of no joy at all. Tinker saluted,
walked up to within ten yards, and waved his hat at him. Billy watched
him with a wicked eye, affected to graze, and of a sudden charged with
all his speed. Tinker sprang aside as the ram's head went down to
butt, and as he hurtled past, prodded him with the sword behind the
shoulder.

Billy pulled himself up as soon as he could check his momentum, and
turned and stood blinking. Twice he rapped the ground hard with his
forefoot. Tinker again drew to within ten yards of him; again Billy
charged; and again he was prodded behind the shoulder. It was a
beautiful game, and Tinker's lightness of foot, quickness of eye, and
coolness of head did every credit to the education he had received from
his father.

It was, indeed, a fine game, but as dangerous as it was fine; if Billy
had once downed the boy, he would never have left him till he had
ground the life out of him. This Tinker did not know, so that he did
not draw all the excitement out of the game he would have done. It had
grown more and more dangerous, also; for, by dint of playing it, Billy,
who had started as a fat, clumsy, and sulky beast, had grown thin,
nimble, and vicious. Alloway, indeed, often declared that he did not
know what ailed the ram; his food never seemed to be doing him any
good, and neither man, woman, nor child dare cross the field in which
he browsed.

The game lasted some twenty minutes; and Tinker's skill, sureness, and
lightness of movement was the prettiest sight. Sometimes, with a
snorting bleat, Billy would turn sharply at the end of his charge, and
charge again; then the concentration on the matter in hand, which his
father had so carefully cultivated in Tinker, proved a most fortunate
possession: he was never caught off his guard. But he was beginning to
think that he had had enough of it, and Billy was sure that he had,
when there came a roar from the road, and there sat Alloway on his
horse. Or rather, he was no longer sitting on his horse, he was
throwing himself off it.

Without one word of thanks to his playfellow for the pleasant game he
had enjoyed with him, Tinker bolted for the further hedge, Billy after
him, and