Warren
Brush was a genius as a whittler. He had only one tool, and that was a
rusty jack-knife with a single broken blade, and that blade was kept
sharp almost to the keenness of a razor. He would take a shapeless
piece of wood, out here, out there, scrape at one place, then at
another, and go through a series of twists and turns of his strong,
deft hands, and at last, with a triumphant smile, hold up to view a
wooden horse, buffalo, or some other animal. He had just now finished
a little plough which he had been carving for some time, and we, the
Middle five, sat in the shade of a tree noisily discussing the accuracy
of the work.
"Brush, that's pretty good, it's just like the ploughs I've seen," I
remarked as I passed the toy to Edwin.
"'Tain't good," said Edwin, after he had examined it a while. "I think
the handles are too straight."
"This ought to be kind of crooked, come down like this," put in
Lester, indicating with his finger the outline of the beam as it should
have been, according to his notion.
Our heads were close together looking at the plough, when a sudden
consciousness as of the presence of something disagreeable stole upon
us. A sound like the snapping of a twig made us all look up, and there
stood Jim, a big boy, one of the worst that ever entered our school,
and who had been excluded from all the "gangs" on account of his
vicious, meddlesome disposition. With a contemptuous grin, he passed
his eyes from one boy to the other, as though to discern the character
of each one. When this unpleasant stare fell upon Warren, he bristled
up, gave back a defiant look, and kept it steadily upon the unwelcome
visitor. Without relaxing the mirthless smile, so characteristic of
him, Jim addressed the boy, "Warren, I just come from the spring, where
a lot of boys was talking. I heard Gid say that he could lick you. I
told him I'd come and tell you what he said. Then he says, 'I don't
care, I ain't 'fraid of him!'"
"You go and tell Gid," said Warren, springing to his feet, "I can lick
two like him, and I'll show him any time he wants me to."
The mischief-maker had read well the character of Warren, and had won
from him the expected reply.
We resumed our examination of the plough thinking that our interview
with the tale-bearer had ended. Jim thrust his hands into his pockets,
and walked uneasily about; he came to where little Bob was sitting,
and, pulling out a warty hand, he pointed his finger at the boy's face,
making a hissing sound between his teeth. Jim never passed by a chance
to tease a smaller boy. Bob put his hands to his face and began crying.
We all rose to our feet; Edwin moved forward in a threatening attitude,
and said, "Jim, you let that boy alone. What you want to tease him for?"
Jim turned away, looked up into a tree, threw a stone at a bird, and
then slowly sauntered off.
We sat down again to resume our talk about Brush's little plough, but
our minds seemed to turn in another direction.
"I don't want Warren to fight Gideon," said Edwin; "he's a bad fellow,
that Gideon is. He don't fight fair."
"But he can't back out," spoke up Lester, "and I don't want him to. I
don't want the rest of the boys to think he's 'fraid."
"Warren's got to fight Gid," exclaimed Brush. "If he only kept quiet
and didn't say anything when Jim told him what Gid said, it would be
all right and no fight; but now everybody knows what Warren said, and
he can't back out without the boys thinking he's a coward. We will
see that Gid fights fair, and, if he don't, we will thrash his whole
'gang.' Warren can use his arms and fists all right; but he can't
wrestle very good. Frank, you'd better show him some of those new
holds."
Warren and I took several rounds in which I showed him a number of new
tricks I had learned from a good wrestler. There was quite an important
one of which he was ignorant; I gave him some lessons in that; then we
sat down to talk over the challenge again with the rest of the boys.
"I think Warren can throw Gid right easy," I said; "if he can remember
that waist and chin trick, and the way to break it, he can down Gid
every time."
"Remember that!" warned Lester, looking at his brother. "If Gid plays
that waist and chin trick, you do just what Frank showed you to do to
break it."
While we were talking, we heard the slapping of bare feet upon the
hard ground, and soon a boy appeared before us, imitating the actions
of a spirited horse. "Whoa'p! Whoa'p!" he called repeatedly, as with
loud snorts the imaginary steed reared and plunged about; finally the
excited animal came to a standstill. Looking at Warren, the boy said,
"Gid told me to come and tell you, he will meet you down below the
barn, at the east gate, right after school this afternoon. He told me
to tell you again he can lick you good."
After some prancing about, the boy ran off, clapping his hips with his
hands to imitate the sound of galloping hoofs.
Gideon had accepted Warren's challenge, and we had no misgivings as
to the outcome, for we had every confidence in Warren's courage and
strength. What concerned us most was Jim's meddling with us and the
means by which we could prevent his farther interference with our
peace. He had made trouble with other "gangs" just in this way. We were
still discussing this matter when the school-bell rang, and we went to
the house together.
The boys who had already taken their seats looked up at us as we
entered the school-room, then they turned their glances upon Gideon
to see how he would behave. The two boys, Gideon and Warren, stared
at each other defiantly; the rest saw there was no courage lacking
in either, and they expected a lively battle between the two. Jim
pretended to be studying; but we knew that he was closely watching
the victims of his machinations to see how they would act. Jim never
studied; he was always at the foot of his class, and boys younger than
he were far in advance of him.
At last the monotonous recitations came to an end. We sang a song about
"Pretty little zephyrs," then Gray-beard closed the school with the
usual religious exercises.
The boys gathered in groups and walked down to the place designated
for the combat. We followed slowly, as we wanted time to give all
the instructions necessary to Warren. A large ring had been formed
by the boys, and Gid was already in the centre with his coat off and
his sleeves rolled up. Jim glanced at us as though impatient for our
coming. As we neared the ring, some one said, in a voice loud enough
for us to hear, "They're not coming very fast. I guess they're 'fraid!"
Brush stepped hastily forward and asked, "Who said we're afraid?
Whoever said it, let him come out here and I'll show him whether we're
afraid or not!"
No one answered. There were few boys in the school who would without
fear accept a challenge from Brush.
A place was cleared for us, and Warren, after handing me his coat,
entered the ring. The two boys approached each other and stopped within
a few feet.
"Did you tell Jim you could lick me?" asked Warren, looking his
opponent square in the eye.
"Yes. And I can do it too," was the bold reply.
"You can't do it!" exclaimed Warren, striking Gideon in the chest.
Then followed an exciting scene. Gideon rushed at Warren, and aimed
blow after blow at his face, but our boy skilfully parried each attack.
Round and round within the ring the two boys carried on their strife,
neither one prevailing. For a while no serious blows were dealt,
finally, in an unguarded moment Warren received a hard thrust in the
left side which made him gasp; whereat Gid's gang shouted in chorus,
"Choo-ie!" (An exultant exclamation in Omaha.) After this success
Gideon grew reckless and struck wildly, and Warren was a little too
anxious to put in a good hit before the proper moment. Gid made another
effort at his antagonist's ribs, but the blow fell short; then Warren
made a lunge at Gid's face; he dodged, but not quickly enough to save
his ear from a bad scraping from Warren's knuckles. "Choo-ie!" cried
Lester and the rest of us at this success; but Gid's next movement
threw us into dismay, he had suddenly seized Warren around the waist
while his arms were uplifted. Gid put his chin against Warren's chest
and began pulling in his back. Warren tried to twist Gid's neck; but
there was no use in that, Warren was slowly giving way. If he should
fall the battle would be won by Gideon.
"Put your arms under his and push!" I said to Warren in an undertone. I
couldn't help doing it.
Isaac, a blustering little chap and one of Gid's "gang" overheard me;
stepping forward and pointing his finger at me, he angrily exclaimed,
"Frank, you know that ain't fair, we don't do that way."
"You do worse than that," I retorted. "The whole four of you jumped on
me in the school-room; that wasn't fair, but I licked you! Wait till
Warren and Gid get through, then I'll see you!"
Warren had heard my words, and acted on them at once, and so released
himself from Gideon's dangerous grasp. Then they went to sparring
again. In making a thrust Warren stumbled on a round stone and fell on
one knee, before he could rise Gid put in a blow that cut Warren's
under lip. "Choo-ie!" exclaimed the friends of Gid. It seemed for
a moment as though the victory would be against us. The struggle
now became desperate. Gid was blowing hard, but there was still
considerable reserve of strength in Warren. Gid repeatedly tried to
grasp his antagonist's waist, but was every time cleverly brought about
again to fists.
Warren's shirt front was bloody and his short hair stood straight up,
giving him a frightful aspect. Gid's thrusts and parries now grew
visibly weaker, but he showed no signs of yielding. He lowered his
fists to give an under cut, thus leaving his face unguarded, quick as a
flash Warren's right arm shot out, and with a sickening thud his fist
landed square on Gid's nose. The blood spurted; the boy was stunned,
and, before he could recover, he received another blow on the eye.
The fight was ended, and Gid's friends dragged him away more dead than
alive.
Warren came to us smiling as widely as his swollen lip would permit.
"You did first rate, old boy!" said Brush, slapping Warren's back.
"He'll never want to fight you again," added Lester.
I helped Warren to put on his coat, then I looked around to see where
Edwin was. I saw him standing before Jim, who was watching us with his
wicked grin. They both spoke, but I could not hear them for the noise
of the talk around me. Suddenly Edwin's long arm darted out, his fist
came square on Jim's cheek with a resounding whack. Jim's face became
livid, and the spot upon which the blow fell twitched convulsively.
When the natural color returned to his face, Jim deliberately pulled
off his coat; he was going to fight Edwin. It was an uneven match; Jim
stood a head taller and was heavier than Edwin.
"What's the matter?" asked Brush, as he came up; "what are you going to
do?"
"We're going to fight," replied Edwin; "I hit him because he made that
trouble."
"Jim," said Brush, stepping forward and rolling up his sleeves, "I
don't think it would be unfair for two of us to fight you. You are
bigger than any of us, so I am going to help Edwin to thrash you.
You've been making mischief for others, now it's going to come to you."
The boys gathered around the three to see another fight, but were
disappointed. Jim made no further demonstration, but stood looking at
the two boys; at last he muttered something to himself, and, picking up
his coat, pushed his way out of the crowd.
All the boys pointed their fingers at Jim, and shouted, "Ah, coward!"
Jim turned his head and looked at them sulkily, but went on, and no one
cared to follow him.