Here the rope tautened with a jerk, arresting his flight, and back he swung in a breathless curve to the other end of his arc.  The ram had fallen, a heap of indistinguishable legs, wool and horns, but pulling itself together and dodging as its antagonist swept downward it retired at random, alternately shaking its head and stamping its fore-feet.  When it had backed about the same distance as that from which it had delivered the assault it paused again, bowed its head as if in prayer for victory and again shot forward, dimly visible as before—­a prolonging white streak with monstrous undulations, ending with a sharp ascension.  Its course this time was at a right angle to its former one, and its impatience so great that it struck the enemy before he had nearly reached the lowest point of his arc.  In consequence he went flying round and round in a horizontal circle whose radius was about equal to half the length of the rope, which I forgot to say was nearly twenty feet long.  His shrieks, crescendo in approach and diminuendo in recession, made the rapidity of his revolution more obvious to the ear than to the eye.  He had evidently not yet been struck in a vital spot.  His posture in the sack and the distance from the ground at which he hung compelled the ram to operate upon his lower extremities and the end of his back.  Like a plant that has struck its root into some poisonous mineral, my poor uncle was dying slowly upward.

“After delivering its second blow the ram had not again retired.  The fever of battle burned hot in its heart; its brain was intoxicated with the wine of strife.  Like a pugilist who in his rage forgets his skill and fights ineffectively at half-arm’s length, the angry beast endeavored to reach its fleeting foe by awkward vertical leaps as he passed overhead, sometimes, indeed, succeeding in striking him feebly, but more frequently overthrown by its own misguided eagerness.  But as the impetus was exhausted and the man’s circles narrowed in scope and diminished in speed, bringing him nearer to the ground, these tactics produced better results, eliciting a superior quality of screams, which I greatly enjoyed.

“Suddenly, as if the bugles had sung truce, the ram suspended hostilities and walked away, thoughtfully wrinkling and smoothing its great aquiline nose, and occasionally cropping a bunch of grass and slowly munching it.  It seemed to have tired of war’s alarms and resolved to beat the sword into a plowshare and cultivate the arts of peace.  Steadily it held its course away from the field of fame until it had gained a distance of nearly a quarter of a mile.  There it stopped and stood with its rear to the foe, chewing its cud and apparently half asleep.  I observed, however, an occasional slight turn of its head, as if its apathy were more affected than real.