MAKING A GOOD JOB OF IT
A fight between two boys is not a very pleasant subject with which to
deal. In this particular circumstance there were, however, mitigating
conditions that would almost make it a pleasure to describe the battle.
Hugh was standing up for the rights of the weak, and had only plunged
into the scrimmage when he saw that Nick had treated Owen in a most
cruel manner.
Once he started in and he meant business. There could be no half-way
measures in handling so crafty and unprincipled a customer as the town
bully. He must be carried off his feet with the impetuosity of the
attack; and while still bewildered thoroughly punished. As Hugh had
well said he needed a lasting lesson. Perhaps after this Nick would
think twice before attacking a weaker boy, who might have a friend
capable and willing to take up cudgels in his behalf.
Nick flourished those big fists of his, and commenced to dance
tauntingly around as though meaning to enlist the admiration of his
cronies, who had never yet seen him come out of a battle second-best,
and therefore deemed him invincible.
Hugh leaped at him with fury glowing in his eyes. Some powerful fever
seemed to have utterly overwhelmed the boy. Thad and those others
stared as though they could not believe their vision. Was this
impetuous boy who struck down Nick's guard as though nothing could
restrain his attack, the same Hugh Morgan who on numerous occasions had
been known to arbitrate a dispute, and declare that it was not worth
getting into a temper over? A miracle seemed to have happened. The
sight of Nick's brutal treatment of Owen Dugdale must have transformed
Hugh into a merciless avenger. In that supreme moment he had
constituted himself the champion of all those lads in Scranton who, in
times past, had suffered cruel wrongs at the hands of the sneering
bully.
There was a furious exchange of blows. Nick knew how to fight, but on
this occasion something seemed to go wrong with his customary
programme. Why, when he hit out his hardest, and expected to see his
antagonist reeling back before the blow, to his consternation, it was
cleverly warded off, and the next instant something crashed against his
own face that made a myriad of luminous stars, never indexed in the
galaxy of the heavens, flash before his eyes.
Then Nick was seen to stagger, and fall down. That was perhaps the
first time he had ever taken a dose of his own medicine. How often had
he stood jeeringly over some wretched fellow whom he had sent to grass,
counting him out with monotonous chant, in which the joy of brutal
victory was prominent?
"Get up and try it again!" said a stern voice. "That is only a taste
of what is due you! I hope you have not had enough yet, you cowardly
brute!"
Leon Disney and those two other cronies of Nick's were holding their
breath with dismay. They had never expected to see the time when any
one could knock their boastful leader out in this easy fashion. What
previous opinions they had entertained concerning Hugh Morgan's prowess
must now be reversed.
Stung by this taunt, Nick immediately scrambled to his feet. He seemed
a bit what he himself would have termed "groggy," being familiar with
the slang of the prize ring, but in spite of this he leaped wildly at
his enemy.
Thad Stevens feared for his chum when he saw the fury of this attack;
but he need not have worried. Hugh was able to look out for himself.
Although those boys had never known him to take part in a single
encounter, Hugh had apparently made a study of the art of self-defense.
There can be no harm in knowing _how_ to fight, if one is resolved
never to indulge in the game save as a very last resort. And whatever
reason it was by which Hugh had bound himself up to the present,
apparently the time had arrived when he could break his promise with
honor.
There was another brief struggle, exceedingly brief, to tell the truth.
Then, for the second time, Nick, the boss of all juvenile Scranton up
to this amazing hour, was thrown heavily to the ground, on which he
landed with a terrible crash.
"That's two for you!" said Hugh, in a hissing voice, as though he might
be speaking between his set teeth. "Now, if you're able get up again,
and give me a chance to finish my job, of which I'm already sick."
Nick was not yet defeated, though it took him longer to rise this time
than before. He was wary, too, and plainly disliked the idea of coming
in contact with those sturdy arms of Hugh Morgan. Seeing that Nick did
not mean to attack him, but had commenced to say harsh things in the
endeavor to force his rival to assume the aggressive, in hopes that the
advantage would fall to his share, Hugh lost no time in obliging him.
Vain were Nick's most desperate efforts to ward off the inevitable.
Hugh had decided to finish the bout with this third round, and the way
he pummeled staggering Nick almost dazed Leon Disney and those other
fellows, staring as though in the throes of a nightmare.
When for the third time clumsy Nick went down heavily before the attack
of the aroused Hugh, he refused to make the least effort to get on his
feet. Evidently Nick was a wise boy in one sense; he knew when he had
had enough of an unpleasant thing.
"Are you through?" demanded Hugh, sternly. "If you say the word I'll
have some of your crowd stand you up on your pegs again, so I may knock
you down. While I'm at it I want to make it a thorough job. Have you
had all you want for tonight?"
In deadly fear lest Hugh be tempted to put his threat into execution,
Nick managed to swallow his pride, and mumble that he guessed he must
be out of condition just then, a fact so evident that Thad had to laugh
aloud.
"All right, then," said Hugh, stepping back, for he had been standing
over the fallen boy in a threatening attitude, like a Roman gladiator
who had thrown his rival, and was waiting to see what signal the
emperor gave so as to decide the vanquished man's fate.
He took one look around at Leon and those two other fellows. They
quailed before his fierce glance.
"If any of the rest of you feel like having a try with me while I'm in
the humor, now's your chance! Don't all speak at once, please," said
Hugh, grimly.
When they saw him take a step in their direction, they shrank back.
Although not averse to having a little entertainment of the sort at
times, none of them seemed to particularly fancy being made a scapegoat.
"We're satisfied, Hugh," said Leon, hurriedly. "Nick got trimmed neat
and good. It's been coming to him for a long time, I guess."
There is a saying to the effect that "rats desert a sinking ship"; and
when Nick's hour for defeat arrived, even these hitherto admiring
cronies threatened to turn their backs on him.
Aroused by this taunt, he scrambled to his feet. Nick was a sight
indeed with his face bloody, and one of his eyes giving evidence of
going into mourning. He snarled something at Leon with a degree of his
one-time ferocity, and the other turned back to assist him off the
field. Nick stopped to look back. He made no threat, but the
malevolence in that stare toward Hugh told better than words would have
done what bitterness was in his heart. No town bully is dethroned
without his hating the object of his humiliation. Hugh had better be
on his guard, for every one knew that Nick Lang would never rest until
he had at least tried to even up the score.
Hugh calmly put on his garments again. Thad and the others were
voicing their admiration for his recent gallant deed, but somehow their
praise seemed to grate on the boy's nerves.
"Please don't keep on saying those things, fellows," he begged them,
presently. "I know you mean it in kindness, but I'd rather try and
forget this unpleasant business. I had to break a promise tonight, and
it hurts ten times worse than any of the few cracks Nick got in at me.
But then my mother always told me she would not for worlds have me
stand by and see a bully injure one weaker than himself. I just had to
do it, that's all there is to it. And, Owen, old chap, I'm mighty glad
I happened to be around to give you a helping hand."
Owen Dugdale had watched all this exciting happening with varied
emotions. Each time his detested oppressor had gone crashing to the
earth, he seemed to feel his own injuries less and less. When the
fight was over, and Nick had received such a decided thrashing, Owen
felt like dancing around. He was a boy, every inch of him, with all a
boy's feelings; and Nick had humiliated him dreadfully, as well as
taken a mean advantage over him on account of his superior strength.
"I'm a thousand times obliged to you, Hugh!" cried the grateful Owen,
wringing the other's hand vigorously; "of course this winds up my
evening's pleasure, and I was enjoying myself more than any time in my
whole life."
"Why should it put a stop to your fun?" demanded Hugh. "What if you
have got a bloody nose, and a lump on your forehead. See here how my
knuckles are badly skinned, will you; and I fancy I've something of a
scratch on my right cheek, where he got to me. We'll wash up back of
the farmhouse, you and I, Owen. Of course all the folks will have to
know what's happened; but then we needn't be ashamed of the part we
took in the little circus."
"Yes, be a sport, Owen," said Thad, encouragingly. "There isn't a
single girl at the hop but who will sing out 'good!' when they hear
that Nick Lang met his match tonight. And say, Owen, Peggy Noland will
likely clap her hands with joy when she learns of what's happened, and
then be extra nice when she sees how that brute marked you. Sympathy
is akin to love you know, they say, Owen."
Owen had to laugh at this good-natured "joshing," but he allowed
himself to be persuaded to accompany Hugh to the rear of the farmhouse.
Here Thad soon secured a basin, and some warm water, as well as soap
and a towel. The boys performed their ablusions, and in the end made
quite a respectable appearance.
"Why, both of you are all right," said Thad, gaily, after the job had
been completed. "Just think how Nick will look when he shows his face
again. Chances are he'll stick to his house all day Saturday and
Sunday; and when school opens on Monday prepare to listen to a tough
story of how he got up in the night and in the dark ran plumb up
against a half-open door, which would account for his black eye and
swollen face. Oh! I know, because I've spun that yarn myself once."
Supper was announced just then, and the boys trooped in to enjoy the
bountiful spread that had been provided for them. A buzz ran around
the room, and all eyes were fastened on Hugh and Owen in eager
curiosity. Thad thought it up to him to explain what had happened, so
that no one might rest under a misapprehension. And when he briefly
described how Hugh had so thoroughly whipped the hitherto invincible
town bully, every one applauded. It might be noticed also that pretty
Peggy Noland looked at her company with unshed tears in her eyes; and
she was unusually good to Owen the balance of the evening, so that he
had a jolly time of it, taken in all.