ARTHUR’S FIGHT TO SAVE RUSTY.
In all his life Arthur had never before found it necessary to fight,
though he had certainly received provocation enough from his Cousin Dick
to do so more than once. His own father had taught him to hate fighting
and to avoid it if possible, as he would anything else that was
ungentlemanly and wrong. At the same time Mr. Dustin had been too wise a
man not to know that occasions may arise in everybody’s life when it
becomes absolutely necessary to fight. He believed, for instance, that
it is right and proper to do so in defence of the weak and helpless who
have claims upon us for protection, provided that is the only way of
defending them, and this principle he had thoroughly instilled into his
child’s mind.
Mr. Dustin also believed that every boy should be taught to use the
weapons with which nature has provided him—namely, his fists—for the
protection of himself and others, just as he should be taught to read
and write or do a thousand other things necessary to his success and
happiness in life.
Thus believing, and having been himself one of the best boxers in his
college gymnasium, he had begun to instruct his little son in the art of
self-defence on the very day that the boy’s mother began to teach him
his letters. Now, therefore, although Arthur had never fought a battle
with any other boy, he had a very fair knowledge of what he ought to do
under the circumstances, and of how to do it.
All his father’s talks upon the subject flashed into his mind, and he
seemed to remember every word of them. He could almost hear the dear
voice say: “Never fight if you can help it, but if the time comes that
you feel it to be your duty, then pitch in with all your heart, with all
your strength, and with all your skill. Then fight just as long as you
can stand, or until you have won a victory.”
In the present instance, surrounded as he was by fierce-looking,
hard-hearted men, who acknowledged no law but that of brute force, and
with poor little Rusty crouching at his feet, so certain was the boy of
his duty, that he prepared for the coming struggle with a brave heart,
though with a very white face.
The boy called “Kid” was perfectly willing to fight; in fact, there was
nothing he enjoyed more, especially when, as in this case, he saw the
prospect of an easy victory before him. So, as he stood up in front of
Arthur, the firelight disclosed a broad grin on his dirty face. He
looked so much stronger and heavier than his antagonist, that some of
the men were touched with pity for the little fellow, and murmured that
it wasn’t a square deal.
“That’s all right,” said the big tramp, who had taken charge of the
affair. “The young chap’s got sand or else he wouldn’t be here. He’s
been talking pretty big too, and now he’s got the chance to show whether
he can back up his words or not.”
To the amazement of the spectators the battle was a long and a hard one;
for the new-comer’s pluck and skill were evenly matched against the
other’s weight and a dogged pride that forbade him to yield to one
younger and smaller than himself. Still, he was in the wrong, and he
knew it; while Arthur was in the right, and knew that he was. The boy
who was fighting in defence of the weak and the helpless never once
thought of giving in, and so the other had to. They finally went to the
ground together, with Arthur on top, and this ended the struggle. The
“Kid” began to cry: “Lemme up! lemme up! I don’t want to fight no more
wid a perfessional. Lemme up!”
Then Arthur left him, and walked to where poor little Rusty was
crouching, with his rope held by one of the tramps. Taking the rope in
his hand, and lifting his brave, flushed face, blood-stained from a
slight cut on his forehead, to that of the big tramp who had ordered the
pup to be beaten, the boy asked: “Is he my dog now?”
“Of course he is, sonny; of course he is!” answered the big man,
promptly. “You’ve fought the bulliest kind of a fight for him, and I’d
like to see the man as would try to take him from you.”
As he spoke, the big tramp glared about him, as though wishing somebody
would dare dispute his words, but nobody did. Every one of those who now
crowded about the boy, anxious to shake hands with him and congratulate
him on his victory, expressed the heartiest approval of what the big man
said. They all seemed to regard Arthur as a hero, and to feel highly
honored by his presence in their camp. Even _his_ dog received a full
share of praise and petting, and was utterly bewildered by the sudden
turn in the tide of popular opinion concerning him.
Seeing that the young champion was rendered uncomfortable by the
over-officiousness of those who crowded about him, the big tramp, who
seemed to exercise an acknowledged authority over them, ordered the rest
to clear out, and leave the little chap to him. Then he took Arthur to
the brook, and bathed his face and hands, and even his bare feet, in its
cool waters, with a degree of tenderness surprising in one so big and
rough.
A few minutes later supper was announced, and the big tramp made Arthur
sit beside him on the ground, in front of a kettle that contained a most
delicious-smelling stew of chicken and potatoes and onions and green
corn, and several other things. To be sure, Arthur was obliged to eat
his portion out of a hastily improvised bowl of birch bark, made for him
by his big friend, with a rude wooden spoon provided by the same
ingenious individual; but how good it was! How often that bark bowl was
refilled, and how proud the cooks were to have the hero of the feast
thus compliment them so highly.
As for little Rusty, who seemed to recognize Arthur as his friend and
protector, and kept close beside him, there never was a dog treated with
greater consideration. Everybody wanted to feed him, and kept tossing
choice morsels of food to him. He ate everything thus offered, with
perfect impartiality, until at length he had no room for another morsel,
and even the daintiest bits of chicken failed to tempt him.
After supper all the tramps were anxious to learn something of Arthur’s
history, and who had taught him to fight so skilfully, and how he
happened to visit their camp. So he told them about his own dear father,
who had given him boxing lessons, and about living with Uncle John and
Aunt Nancy, and how he and Uncle Phin had decided to go to his
grandfather’s in Virginia, and were travelling in a boat, and how it had
run aground so that they couldn’t get it off, and Uncle Phin had gone in
search of help, and how he happened to get lost in the woods, and
finally how he discovered their camp; all of which was listened to with
absorbing interest.
When he finished, the big tramp spoke up and said: “Well, fellers, from
this little chap’s account of hisself, I don’t see but what him and his
old Uncle Phin is travelling through the country pretty much the same as
we does, like gentlemen of leisure and independent means, as it were. In
fact I should call ’em a couple of honest tramps, as is making their way
through the world without asking no odds of nobody.”
“That’s so,” assented several voices.
“Such being the case,” continued the big man, “It is clearly our dooty
to help ’em out of the fix they’ve got into, and I move that we all go
down to the river, first thing in the morning, and set their old scow
afloat.”
As this motion seemed to meet with general approval, Arthur was
cordially invited to spend the night in the tramps’ camp, and was
assured that they would guide him to the Ark, and that it should be
started on its voyage the very first thing in the morning. As there
really seemed nothing else for him to do, the little fellow accepted the
invitation, though he wished he could get back to the boat that night,
and thus relieve the anxiety that he knew Uncle Phin must be suffering
on account of his unexplained disappearance.
In the meantime he had recovered his book from the big tramp, who had
held it during the fight, and it now lay on the grass beside him. He had
mentioned that he sometimes read stories from this book to Uncle Phin,
and now the big tramp said to him: “Look here, sonny, why won’t you read
a story to us out of your book, just to pass away the time? If you will,
I will give you some information that may prove useful to you in your
travels, but which you can’t find in any book in the world.”