A BATTLE
One morning, when Jack proposed to play a game of ball with the boys,
Riley and Pewee came up and entered the game, and objected.
"It isn't interesting to play with greenhorns," said Will. "If Jack
plays, little Christopher Columbus Andsoforth will want to play, too;
and then there'll be two babies to teach. I can't be always helping
babies. Let Jack play two-hole cat or Anthony-over with the little
fellows." To which answer Pewee assented, of course.
That day at noon Riley came to Jack, with a most gentle tone and winning
manner, and whiningly begged Jack to show him how to divide 770 by 14.
"It isn't interesting to show greenhorns," said Jack, mimicking Riley's
tone on the playground that morning. "If I show you, Pewee Rose will
want me to show him; then there'll be two babies to teach. I can't be
always helping babies. Go and play two-hole cat with the First-Reader
boys."
That afternoon, Mr. Ball had the satisfaction of using his new beech
switches on both Riley and Pewee, though indeed Pewee did not deserve to
be punished for not getting his lesson. It was Nature's doing that his
head, like a goat's, was made for butting and not for thinking.
But if he had to take whippings from the master and his father, he made
it a rule to get satisfaction out of somebody else. If Jack had helped
him he wouldn't have missed. If he had not missed his lesson badly, Mr.
Ball would not have whipped him. It would be inconvenient to whip Mr.
Ball in return, but Jack would be easy to manage, and as somebody must
be whipped, it fell to Jack's lot to take it.
King Pewee did not fall upon his victim at the school-house door; this
would have insured him another beating from the master. Nor did he
attack Jack while Bob Holliday was with him. Bob was big and strong--a
great fellow of sixteen. But after Jack had passed the gate of Bob's
house, and was walking on toward home alone, Pewee came out from behind
an alley fence, accompanied by Ben Berry and Will Riley.
"I'm going to settle with you now," said King Pewee, sidling up to Jack
like an angry bull-dog.
It was not a bright prospect for Jack, and he cast about him for a
chance to escape a brutal encounter with such a bully, and yet avoid
actually running away.
"Well," said Jack, "if I must fight, I must. But I suppose you won't let
Riley and Berry help you."
"No, I'll fight fair." And Pewee threw off his coat, while Jack did the
same.
"You'll quit when I say 'enough,' won't you?" said Jack.
"Yes, I'll fight fair, and hold up when you've got enough."
"Well, then, for that matter, I've got enough now. I'll take the will
for the deed and just say 'enough' before you begin," and he turned to
pick up his coat.
"No, you don't get off that way," said Pewee. "You've got to stand up
and see who is the best man, or I'll kick you all the way home."
"Didn't you ever hear about Davy Crockett's 'coon?" said Jack. "When the
'coon saw him taking aim, it said: 'Is that you, Crockett? Well, don't
fire--I'll come down anyway. I know you'll hit anything you shoot at.'
Now, I'm that 'coon. If it was anybody but you, I'd fight. But as it's
you, Pewee, I might just as well come down before you begin."
Pewee was flattered by this way of putting the question. Had he been
alone, Jack would have escaped. But Will Riley, remembering all he had
endured from Jack's retorts, said:
"Oh, give it to him, Pewee; he's always making trouble."
At which Pewee squared himself off, doubled up his fists, and came at
the slenderer Jack. The latter prepared to meet him, but, after all, it
was hard for Pewee to beat so good-humored a fellow as Jack. The king's
heart failed him, and suddenly he backed off, saying:
"If you'll agree to help Riley and me out with our lessons hereafter,
I'll let you off. If you don't, I'll thrash you within an inch of your
life." And Pewee stood ready to begin.
Jack wanted to escape the merciless beating that Pewee had in store for
him. But it was quite impossible for him to submit under a threat. So he
answered:
"If you and Riley will treat me as you ought to, I'll help you when you
ask me, as I always have. But even if you pound me into jelly I won't
agree to help you, unless you treat me right. I won't be bullied into
helping you."
"Give it to him, Pewee," said Ben Berry; "he's too sassy."
Pewee was a rather good-natured dog--he had to be set on. He now began
to strike at Jack. Whether he was to be killed or not, Jack did not
know, but he was resolved not to submit to the bully. Yet he could not
do much at defence against Pewee's hard fists. However, Jack was active
and had long limbs; he soon saw that he must do something more than
stand up to be beaten. So, when King Pewee, fighting in the irregular
Western fashion, and hoping to get a decided advantage at once, rushed
upon Jack and pulled his head forward, Jack stooped lower than his enemy
expected, and, thrusting his head between Pewee's knees, shoved his legs
from under him, and by using all his strength threw Pewee over his own
back, so that the king's nose and eyes fell into the dust of the village
street.
"I'll pay you for that," growled Pewee, as he recovered himself, now
thoroughly infuriated; and with a single blow he sent Jack flat on his
back, and then proceeded to pound him. Jack could do nothing now but
shelter his eyes from Pewee's blows.
Joanna Merwin had seen the beginning of the battle from her father's
house, and feeling sure that Jack would be killed, she had run swiftly
down the garden walk to the back gate, through which she slipped into
the alley; and then she hurried on, as fast as her feet would carry her,
to the blacksmith-shop of Pewee Rose's father.
"Oh, please, Mr. Rose, come quick! Pewee's just killing a boy in the
street."
"Vitin' ag'in," said Mr. Rose, who was a Pennsylvanian from the
limestone country, and spoke English with difficulty. "He ees a leetle
ruffen, dat poy. I'll see apout him right avay a'ready, may be."
And without waiting to put off his leathern apron, he walked briskly in
the direction indicated by Joanna. Pewee was hammering Jack without
pity, when suddenly he was caught by the collar and lifted sharply to
his feet.
"Wot you doin' down dare in de dirt wunst a'ready? Hey?" said Mr. Rose,
as he shook his son with the full force of his right arm, and cuffed him
with his left hand. "Didn't I dells you I'd gill you some day if you
didn't gwit vitin' mit oder poys, a'ready?"
"He commenced it," whimpered Pewee.
"You dells a pig lie a'ready, I beleefs, Peter, and I'll whip you fur
lyin' besides wunst more. Fellers like _him_," pointing to Jack, who was
brushing the dust off his clothes,--"fellers like him don't gommence on
such a poy as you. You're such anoder viter I never seed." And he shook
Pewee savagely.
"I won't do it no more," begged Pewee--"'pon my word and honor I won't."
"Oh, you don't gits off dat away no more, a'ready. You know what I'll
giff you when I git you home, you leedle ruffen. I shows you how to
vite, a'ready."
And the king disappeared down the street, begging like a spaniel, and
vowing that he "wouldn't do it no more." But he got a severe whipping, I
fear;--it is doubtful if such beatings ever do any good. The next
morning Jack appeared at school with a black eye, and Pewee had some
scratches, so the master whipped them both for fighting.