First in the Field | Page 3

dense furze clump, Green hectoring, throwing stones at everything he saw, from the donkeys and geese to the yellow-hammers which flitted along the hedge, stopping now and then to twitter out their quaint little song about "a little bit o' bread and no cheese," and looking as much like canaries as they could as they perched upon some twig.
"I'll give you a bit o' cheese and no bread," cried Green, as he hurled stone after stone, but fortunately with the worst of aim. "Now then, you Tomlins, stop that miserable snivelling, and walk upright; you're not hurt."
The boy hastily wiped his eyes, as he mentally wished that he was big and strong.
"And don't you drop those birds, or I'll give you another," shouted Green, as he sent another pebble flying.
The boy stifled a sob, and followed limping.
"Lean on me, Bob," said Dominic.
"Thank you," sobbed the boy; and then in a whisper, "My hip hurts as if it was put out."
"Not so bad as that," said Dominic in a low tone; and he helped the boy along till Green looked back, saw what was taking place, and shouted:
"Now then, none of that, Convict. He's only shamming. Let him alone."
"Don't let him touch me, Nic," whispered the boy piteously; "I can hardly walk."
Dominic said nothing, but his brow was full of lines; and he looked down at the ground and supported his companion by tightly holding his arm.
"Do you hear?" roared Green, stopping now. "I told you to leave that little sham alone."
"I'm not shamming, Nic," sobbed the boy in a whisper; "it hurts dreadfully every time I move my leg."
"Oh, you won't, won't you?" cried Green menacingly. "I shall have to give you a lesson too, Master Braydon, and transport you into a better state of mind. Stand aside, will you?"
As he came up he struck Nic a back-handed blow across the chest, forcing him backward and making Tomlins utter a cry of pain.
"Now then, none of that," continued Green. "Go on, and take care of those birds,--go on!"
The boy in his dread and pain, wincing in the expectation of a fresh kick, staggered on for a few paces, and then with a cry of misery fell forward flat upon his chest.
"Mind those birds!" yelled Green, starting forward, and bending down he flung the wretched boy over on to his back so as to extricate the bird's nest.
But he was too late; the unfortunate callow songsters had been saved from a lingering death by starvation and imprisonment, the sides of the clay-lined nest being crushed in, and the breath out of the tender little bodies.
They were quite dead, and in a fit of vindictive rage Green flew at the innocent author of the mischief.
"You miserable little beast!" he roared; and his foot was raised to deliver a savage kick. "Get up!"
But instead of Tomlins getting up, Green went down. For, quick as thought, Dominic rushed at him.
"Let him alone!" he cried hoarsely; and the fierce thrust he gave sent the young tyrant into a sitting position upon a cushion-like tuft rising from the closely cropped grass.
But that tuft was only cushion-like in appearance. There were geese feathers about, but they did not form its contents, for it was stuffed with keen, stiff thorns such as can grow to perfection upon a Kentish common; and if Brian Green had been an indiarubber ball he could not have rebounded more suddenly than he did.
Raising the now empty nest he threw it with all his might at Dominic, and both his fists after it.
The nest missed; the fists took effect, alighting as they did upon Dominic's breast and shoulder, and completely driving all thought of consequences out of the boy, who retaliated with such good effect that, as the lookers-on cheered and shouted encouragement, the fight raged fiercely. Even Tomlins forgot his sufferings, and watched every fluctuation of the struggle with an intense longing to see the school tyrant effectually mastered and dragged down from the pedestal whence he had so long dominated and ill-used all around.
The others shared his feelings, and a couple immediately constituted themselves seconds during the few minutes the fight went on fast and furious, Dominic always being ready to dash into the affray after being dragged up at the close of the wrestling bout which ended each round, while Green grew more and more deliberate, as buzzing sounds came into his head, ringings into his ears, and it began to dawn upon him that Nic Braydon had the hardest face he ever touched, and that it was of no use to keep on hitting it, for it always returned to be hit again.
At last, to the intense delight of the boys, it became evident that the result of the encounter must be a sound thrashing for Brian Green, and