Comical People | Page 7

sir," said Tom, "I have done no mischief."
"Angry, sir! what do you mean by angry?" spluttered out the other. "I'll
teach you to tell me I'm angry!" and so saying, he thrust Tom with all
his force into the hedge.
Luckily there was a gap there, and Tom was able to get through, and
thus escape from any further insult. He heard Chanticleer's voice
shouting after him; Tom did not stay to listen, but ran towards the wood
as fast as his legs would carry him.
It so happened, that just before Tom reached home he met Captain
Bulldog, an old officer of the Guards, who had retired on half-pay, with
an extra pension for the loss of one of his legs, which he had left on the
field, and to him Tom recounted all the circumstances of the assault.
The Captain immediately told Tom that he had but one course to pursue,
which was, to call Chanticleer out. Tom did not at first understand this
phrase; but, on its being explained to him, his knees knocked together,
and he begged the Captain to say nothing more of the matter. But the
Captain, who owed Chanticleer a grudge, insisted that Tom should
place himself entirely in his hands, took the poor youth to his own
house, and did not let him rest till Tom had fairly indited a challenge.
This the Captain had the great satisfaction of delivering personally to
Mr. Chanticleer, who turned very red in the face on reading it, and
made some little attempts at an apology. These the Captain would not
listen to, saying, the insult was too great for apologies; and Chanticleer
was at last obliged to refer him to his friend, Sir Wiley Reynard, of
Underwood, to arrange a meeting.

Poor Tom! I think I see him now, as he came with his long face to tell
me of the scrape he had got into.
"I would stay at home," said the unfortunate youth, with tears in his
eyes, "but that I am afraid of offending Captain Bulldog, who will,
perhaps, challenge me himself, if I don't fight Chanticleer; and of the
two enemies," added Tom, forcing a faint smile, "you know which I
should prefer."
Afterwards, Tom told me where the meeting was to be; and as I thought
my young neighbour might want a friend, I determined to be near at
hand.
It was about six o'clock on a cold, grey, autumn morning, that I
concealed myself in a thicket by the side of Goose Common, and
waited the arrival of the combatants. Captain Bulldog, with young
Leverett by his side, were first on the field, and I could see that poor
Tom shook in every limb. They did not wait long. A post-chaise soon
came clattering along the road, and out of it jumped Sir Wiley Reynard,
Doctor Crane, and Mr. Chanticleer. Sir Wiley and the Captain soon
arranged the preliminaries, and Chanticleer walked boldly and jauntily
to his post. Not so my friend. Poor Tom, fainthearted at all times, was
now terrified to such a degree, that the Captain had absolutely to
support him, or he would certainly have dropped. Presently, Sir Wiley
gave the signal to fire; Tom complied at once, and sent his bullet flying
somewhere above my head, about as wide of the mark as it well could
be; and then, without waiting for the compliment of a return, off he
started as fast as ever his legs carried him in his life, cleared the hedge
at a bound, and ran straight into a thick wood. I nearly died with
laughter, not only to see Tom run, but to behold the terrible look of the
Captain, as he gazed after his flying friend; to watch the surprised and
somewhat pleased look of Chanticleer, who seemed half inclined to fire
after the fugitive; and to see the puzzled expression of Sir Wiley's face,
and the comical grin on Dr. Crane's, as he tapped his box and offered
the Baronet a pinch. After a few moments of silence, no one knowing
what to do in such an unusual dilemma, the Captain walked up to Sir
Wiley, and offered, if the Baronet were not satisfied, to fight either Mr.

Chanticleer or the Baronet himself, whichever was preferred. But Sir
Wiley replied very politely that he was perfectly satisfied with Captain
Bulldog, and that he only regretted that the Captain should act for such
a coward as Mr. Thomas Leverett. On this the Captain began abusing
poor Tom so terribly, that I thought it best to beat a retreat and see after
my runaway friend. When I arrived home I found him sitting in my
little back-parlour, just as I expected. He had covered his face with his
hands, and was crying