“But it is to get your standing in the school, and Tom Alloway is to
fight you.”
“This was a famous occasion in our lives,” writes my friend Jack; “for,
consider: I, who was a girl for timidity, was sure to have my turn next,
and here were we two little fellows, who had heard every First-day, and
ever and ever at home, that all things were to be suffered of all men
(and of boys too, I presume). I was troubled for Hugh, but I noticed
that while he said he would not fight he was buttoning up his jacket and
turning back the cuff of one sleeve. Also he smiled as he said, ‘No, I
cannot;’ and many times since I have seen him merry, in danger.
“For, of a truth, never later did he or I feel the sense of a great
peril as we did that day, with the bigger boys hustling us, and Alloway
crying, ‘Coward!’ I looked about for some man who would help us, but
there was no one; only a cow hobbled near by. She looked up, and then
went on chewing her cud. I, standing behind Hugh, said, ‘Run! run!’
“The counsel seemed good to me who gave it. As I think on it now, I was
in great perplexity of soul, and had a horrible fear as to bodily hurt.
I turned, followed by Hugh, and ran fleetly across the open ground and
through the bushes. About midway I looked back. Two lads were near upon
us, when I saw Hugh drop upon his hands and knees. Both fellows rolled
over him, and he called out, as they fell to beating him, ‘Run, Jack!’
“But I was no longer so minded. I kicked one boy, and struck another,
and even now recall how a strange joy captured me when I struck the
first blow.”
There was a fine scrimmage, for no quarter was asked or given, and I saw
my poor Jack’s girl face bloody. This was the last I remember clearly,
for the lust of battle was on me, and I can recall no more of what
chanced for a little, than I could in later years of the wild melley
on the main street of Germantown, or of the struggle in the redoubt at
Yorktown.
Presently we were cast to right and left by a strong hand, and, looking
up, as I stood fierce and panting, I saw Friend Rupert Forest, and was
overwhelmed with fear; for often on First-day I had heard him preach
solemnly, and always it was as to turning the other cheek, and on the
wickedness of profane language. Just now he seemed pleased rather than
angered, and said, smiling:
“This is a big war, boys. What is it about?”