With Marlborough to Malplaquet | Page 9

which enabled him to get in a blow when his opponent's fell short;
though the less robust of the two he had as much pluck as pride, and
would have fought on to the last gasp.
The sound of clattering hoofs was heard, and, from opposite quarters,
two horsemen dashed up. They were Mr. Blackett and the elder
Fairburn.

CHAPTER III
THE FIRE AT BINFIELD TOWERS
The fight stopped even more suddenly than it had begun, and the two
combatants stood away from each other, with hanging heads but with
fists still clenched.
Fairburn took a glance around on the destruction, a thing he was able to
do by the glare from some burning wreckage which had now got well
into a blaze. Then his eyes wandered down to the two boys with their
bruised and bleeding countenances, and finally up into Mr. Blackett's
face.
"So this is the kind of thing your Tory and your Jacobite is capable of!"
he remarked with stinging scorn to his richer rival.
"Don't you think, Mr. Fairburn," answered the Squire with dignified
calmness, restraining himself marvellously well, "don't you think that
instead of vilifying a cause as far above your comprehension as the
majority of its advocates are above you in breeding, in education, in
station, it would be more sensible to give me your help in attending to
these poor misguided fellows lying wounded on all sides?"
Fairburn winced; his rival had certainly the advantage in the

controversy, and none knew it better than the two boys. George did not
fail to observe the little flush of satisfaction that for an instant lit up his
antagonist's countenance, and, like his father, he too winced.
However, not another needless word was said, while the two men and
their sons, with the help of some of the Fairburn colliers who were still
on the spot, gave attention to the wounded and extinguished the
burning rubbish. Then the Blacketts, father and son, raising their hats to
the Fairburns, took their departure.
It may well be supposed that this series of unhappy incidents did not
tend to narrow the breach between the two colliery owners and their
people. Fairburn, unlike his old self, was greatly incensed, and talked
much of prosecutions and so forth. But nothing came of it, the man's
sound native sense presently leading him to adopt George's opinion.
Said the boy, "Where would be the good, father? Their side got most of
the broken heads anyhow, and that's enough for us." It was a
youngster's view of the case, but it had its merits.
So Fairburn grumbled and rebuilt his few wrecked sheds, his
grumblings dying out as the work proceeded. George's own thoughts
were bitter enough, however, so far as Matthew Blackett was
concerned. He could not get it out of his head that the young squire, as
the folks around styled Matthew, was at the bottom of the riot and
indeed secretly its ringleader.
A month or two passed away, and spring came. One day the elder
Fairburn, on his return from London in his collier, made a great
announcement.
"I've got you a grand place, my lad," he said. "It is in the office of Mr.
Allan, one of the finest shipping-merchants in London. 'Tis a very great
favour, and will be the making of you, if you prove to be the lad I take
you to be. You are now fifteen, and it is time you went from home to
try your fortune; in fact, you'll be all the better away from here--for
certain reasons I need not go into. You are a lucky lad, George,--I wish
I had had half your chance when I was in my teens."

The son knew very well from his father's tone and manner that it was
useless to argue the matter with him. To London he would have to go,
and he prepared to face the unwelcome prospect like a man.
Yet, to add to his chagrin and disappointment, there came to him just at
that time the news that young Blackett was proposing to enter the army
as soon as he was old enough. The Squire was anxious that his son
should have a commission, and as he was wealthy, and his party was
now decidedly winning in the political race, there would not only be no
difficulties in Matthew's way, but a fine prospect of advancement for
the youth.
"Who would have thought that that lanky weakling would choose a
soldier's trade!" George Fairburn said to himself. "I had quite expected
him to go to Oxford and become either a barrister or a bishop. He's a
lucky fellow! And I--I am--well, never mind; it's silly to go on in this
way. I don't like Blackett, but I am bound to confess