Phil had to run. How he did it
he never could tell, but he reached the fence at last, and shot Miss
Lillycrop over into the arms of her friends, and all three were sent
headlong down into a thick bush.

Phil turned at once to run to the aid of Pax, but there was no occasion
to do so. That youth had reached and leaped the fence like an acrobat,
and was now standing on the other side of it making faces at the bull,
calling it names, and insulting it with speeches of the most refined
insolence, by way of relieving his feelings and expressing his
satisfaction.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

THE GREATEST BATTLE OF ALL.

Time advanced apace, and wrought many of those innumerable changes in
the fortunes of the human race for which Time is famous.

Among other things it brought Sir James Clubley to the bird-shop of
Messrs. Blurt one Christmas eve.

"My dear sir," said Sir James to Mr Enoch in the back shop, through the
half-closed door of which the owl could be seen gazing solemnly at the
pelican of the wilderness, "I have called to ask whether you happen to
have heard anything of young Aspel of late?"

"Nothing whatever," replied Mr Blurt, with a sad shake of his head.
"Since Bones died--the man, you know, with whom he lived--he has removed
to some new abode, and no one ever hears or sees anything of him, except
Mrs Bones. He visits her occasionally (as I believe you are aware),
but refuses to give her his address. She says, however, that he has
given up drink--that the dying words of her husband had affected him
very deeply. God grant it may be so, for I love the youth."

"I join your prayer, Mr Blurt," said Sir James, who was slightly,
though perhaps unconsciously, pompous in his manner. "My acquaintance
with him has been slight--in fact only two letters have passed between
us--but I entertained a strong regard for his father, who in schoolboy
days saved my life. In after years he acquired that passion for spirits
which his son seems to have inherited, and, giving up all his old
friends, went to live on a remote farm in the west of Ireland."

Sir James spoke slowly and low, as if reflectively, with his eyes fixed
on the ground.

"In one of the letters to which I have referred," he continued, looking
up, "young Aspel admitted that he had fallen, and expressed regret in a
few words, which were evidently sincere, but he firmly, though quite
politely, declined assistance, and wound up with brief yet hearty thank