Martin Rattler | Page 6

tremendous blow on the
point of his nose, and another on the chest. These had the effect of
tempering Martin's rage with a salutary degree of caution, and of
eliciting from the spectators sundry cries of warning on the one hand,
and admiration on the other, while the young champions revolved
warily round each other, and panted vehemently.
The battle that was fought that day was one of a thousand. It created as
great a sensation in the village school as did the battle of Waterloo in
England. It was a notable fight; such as had not taken place within the
memory of the oldest boy in the village, and from which, in after years,
events of juvenile history were dated,--especially pugilistic events, of
which, when a good one came off, it used to be said that "such a battle
had not taken place since the year of the _Great Fight_" Bob Croaker
was a noted fighter. Martin Rattler was, up to this date, an untried hero.
Although fond of rough play and boisterous mischief, he had an
unconquerable aversion to earnest fighting, and very rarely indeed
returned home with a black eye,--much to the satisfaction of Aunt
Dorothy Grumbit, who objected to all fighting from principle, and
frequently asserted, in gentle tones, that there should be no soldiers or
sailors (fighting sailors, she meant) at all, but that people ought all to
settle everything the best way they could without fighting, and live
peaceably with one another, as the Bible told them to do. They would
be far happier and better off, she was sure of that; and if everybody was
of her way of thinking, there would be neither swords, nor guns, nor
pistols, nor squibs, nor anything else at all! Dear old lady. It would
indeed be a blessing if her principles could be carried out in this
warring and jarring world. But as this is rather difficult, what we ought
to be careful about is, that we never fight except in a good cause and
with a clear conscience.

It was well for Martin Rattler, on that great day, that the formation of
the ground favoured him. The spot on which the fight took place was
uneven, and covered with little hillocks and hollows, over which Bob
Croaker stumbled, and into which he fell,--being a clumsy boy on his
legs,--and did himself considerable damage; while Martin, who was
firmly knit and active as a kitten, scarcely ever fell, or, if he did, sprang
up again like an India-rubber ball. Fair-play was embedded deep in the
centre of Martin's heart, so that he scorned to hit his adversary when he
was down or in the act of rising; but the thought of the fate that awaited
the white kitten if he were conquered, acted like lightning in his veins,
and scarcely had Bob time to double his fists after a fall, when he was
knocked back again into the hollow out of which he had risen. There
were no rounds in this fight,--no pausing to recover breath. Martin's
anger rose with every blow, whether given or received; and although he
was knocked down flat four or five times, he rose again, and, without a
second's delay, rushed headlong at his enemy. Feeling that he was too
little and light to make much impression on Bob Croaker by means of
mere blows, he endeavoured as much as possible to throw his weight
against him at each assault; but Bob stood his ground well, and after a
time seemed even to be recovering strength a little.
Suddenly he made a rush at Martin, and, dealing him a successful blow
on the forehead, knocked him down; at the same time he himself
tripped over a molehill and fell upon his face. Both were on their legs
in an instant. Martin grew desperate. The white kitten swimming for its
life seemed to rise before him, and new energy was infused into his
frame. He retreated a step or two, and then darted forward like an arrow
from a bow. Uttering a loud cry, he sprang completely in the air and
plunged--head and fists together, as if he were taking a dive--into Bob
Croaker's bosom! The effect was tremendous. Bob went down like a
shock of grain before the sickle; and having, in their prolonged
movements, approached close to the brink of the stream, both he and
Martin went with a sounding splash into the deep pool and disappeared.
It was but for a moment, however, Martin's head emerged first, with
eyes and mouth distended to the utmost. Instantly, on finding bottom,
he turned to deal his opponent another blow; but it was not needed.
When Bob Croaker's head rose to the surface there was no motion in

the features, and the eyes were