ANSWERING BACK
It is hard for one boy to make a fight. Even your bully does not like to
"pitch on" an inoffensive school-mate. You remember AEsop's fable of the
wolf and the lamb, and what pains the wolf took to pick a quarrel with
the lamb. It was a little hard for Pewee to fight with a boy who walked
quietly to and from the school, without giving anybody cause for
offence.
But the chief reason why Pewee did not attack him with his fists was
that both he and Riley had found out that Jack Dudley could help them
over a hard place in their lessons better than anybody else. And
notwithstanding their continual persecution of Jack, they were mean
enough to ask his assistance, and he, hoping to bring about peace by
good-nature, helped them to get out their geography and arithmetic
almost every day. Unable to appreciate this, they were both convinced
that Jack only did it because he was afraid of them, and as they found
it rare sport to abuse him, they kept it up. By their influence Jack was
shut out of the plays. A greenhorn would spoil the game, they said. What
did a boy that had lived on Wildcat Creek, in the Indian Reserve, know
about playing bull-pen, or prisoner's base, or shinny? If he was brought
in, they would go out.
But the girls, and the small boys, and good-hearted Bob Holliday liked
Jack's company very much. Yet, Jack was a boy, and he often longed to
play games with the others. He felt very sure that he could dodge and
run in "bull-pen" as well as any of them. He was very tired of Riley's
continual ridicule, which grew worse as Riley saw in him a rival in
influence with the smaller boys.
"Catch Will alone sometimes," said Bob Holliday, "when Pewee isn't with
him, and then thrash him. He'll back right down if you bristle up to
him. If Pewee makes a fuss about it, I'll look after Pewee. I'm bigger
than he is, and he won't fight with me. What do you say?"
"I shan't fight unless I have to."
"Afraid?" asked Bob, laughing.
"It isn't that. I don't think I'm much afraid, although I don't like to
be pounded or to pound anybody. I think I'd rather be whipped than to be
made fun of, though. But my father used to say that people who fight
generally do so because they are afraid of somebody else, more than they
are of the one they fight with."
"I believe that's a fact," said Bob. "But Riley aches for a good
thrashing."
"I know that, and I feel like giving him one, or taking one myself, and
I think I shall fight him before I've done. But father used to say that
fists could never settle between right and wrong. They only show which
is the stronger, and it is generally the mean one that gets the best of
it."
"That's as sure as shootin'," said Bob. "Pewee could use you up. Pewee
thinks he's the king, but laws! he's only Riley's bull-dog. Riley is
afraid of him, but he manages to keep the dog on his side all the time."
"My father used to say," said Jack, "that brutes could fight with force,
but men ought to use their wits."
"You seem to think a good deal of what your father says,--like it was
your Bible, you know."
"My father's dead," replied Jack.
"Oh, that's why. Boys don't always pay attention to what their father
says when he's alive."
"Oh, but then my father was--" Here Jack checked himself, for fear of
seeming to boast. "You see," he went on, "my father knew a great deal.
He was so busy with his books that he lost 'most all his money, and then
we moved to the Indian Reserve, and there he took the fever and died;
and then we came down here, where we owned a house, so that I could go
to school."
"Why don't you give Will Riley as good as he sends?" said Bob, wishing
to get away from melancholy subjects. "You have got as good a tongue as
his."
"I haven't his stock of bad words, though."
"You've got a power of fun in you, though,--you keep everybody laughing
when you want to, and if you'd only turn the pumps on him once, he'd
howl like a yellow dog that's had a quart o' hot suds poured over him
out of a neighbor's window. Use your wits, like your father said. You've
lived in the woods till you're as shy as a flying-squirrel. All you've
got to do is to talk up and take it rough and tumble, like the rest of
the world. Riley can't bear to be laughed at, and you can make him
ridiculous as easy as not."
The next day, at the noon recess, about the time that Jack had finished
helping Bob Holliday to find some places on the map, there came up a
little shower, and the boys took refuge in the school-house. They must
have some amusement, so Riley began his old abuse.
"Well, greenhorn from the Wildcat, where's the black sheep you stole
that suit of clothes from?"
"I hear him bleat now," said Jack,--"about the blackest sheep I have
ever seen."
"You've heard the truth for once, Riley," said Bob Holliday.
Riley, who was as vain as a peacock, was very much mortified by the
shout of applause with which this little retort of Jack's was greeted.
It was not a case in which he could call in King Pewee. The king, for
his part, shut up his fists and looked silly, while Jack took courage to
keep up the battle.
But Riley tried again.
"I say, Wildcat, you think you're smart, but you're a double-distilled
idiot, and haven't got brains enough to be sensible of your misery."
This kind of outburst on Riley's part always brought a laugh from the
school. But before the laugh had died down, Jack Dudley took the word,
saying, in a dry and quizzical way:
"Don't you try to claim kin with me that way, Riley. No use; I won't
stand it. I don't belong to your family. I'm neither a fool nor a
coward."
"Hurrah!" shouted Bob Holliday, bringing down first one and then the
other of his big feet on the floor. "It's your put-in now, Riley."
"Don't be backward in coming forward, Will, as the Irish priest said to
his people," came from grave Harvey Collins, who here looked up from his
book, thoroughly enjoying the bully's discomfiture.
"That's awfully good," said Joanna Merwin, clasping her hands and
giggling with delight.
King Pewee doubled up his fists and looked at Riley to see if he ought
to try his sort of wit on Jack. If a frog, being pelted to death by
cruel boys, should turn and pelt them again, they could not be more
surprised than were Riley and King Pewee at Jack's repartees.
"You'd better be careful what you say to Will Riley," said Pewee. "I
stand by him."
But Jack's blood was up now, and he was not to be scared.
"All the more shame to him," said Jack. "Look at me, shaken all to
pieces with the fever and ague on the Wildcat, and look at that great
big, bony coward of a Riley. I've done him no harm, but he wants to
abuse me, and he's afraid of me. He daren't touch me. He has to coax you
to stand by him, to protect him from poor little me. He's a great
big----"
"Calf," broke in Bob Holliday, with a laugh.
"You'd better be careful," said Pewee to Jack, rising to his feet. "I
stand by Riley."
"Will you defend him if I hit him?"
"Yes."
"Well, then, I won't hit him. But you don't mean that he is to abuse me,
while I am not allowed to answer back a word?"
"Well--" said Pewee hesitatingly.
"Well," said Bob Holliday hotly, "I say that Jack has just as good a
right to talk with his tongue as Riley. Stand by Riley if he's hit,
Pewee; he needs it. But don't you try to shut up Jack." And Bob got up
and put his broad hand on Jack's shoulder. Nobody had ever seen the big
fellow angry before, and the excitement was very great. The girls
clapped their hands.
"Good for you, Bob, I say," came from Susan Lanham, and poor, ungainly
Bob blushed to his hair to find himself the hero of the girls.
"I don't mean to shut up Jack," said Pewee, looking at Bob's size, "but
I stand by Riley."
"Well, do your standing sitting down, then," said Susan. "I'll get a
milking-stool for you, if that'll keep you quiet."
It was well that the master came in just then, or Pewee would have had
to fight somebody or burst.