And there
one day I had an adventure, a dirty bout at fisticuffs, most humiliating
in the end for me and which showed that chivalry is often its own
reward, like virtue, even when the chivalrous are young and big and
strong, and have learned to box.
A brutal young drover wantonly kicked a sheep, and, as I thought, broke
her hind-leg, and in my indignation I took him by the ear and flung him
round onto a heap of mud and filth. He rose and squared at me in a most
plucky fashion; he hardly came up to my chin, and I refused to fight
him. A crowd collected round us, and as I tried to explain to the
by-standers the cause of our quarrel, he managed to hit me in the face
with a very muddy fist.
"Bravo, little 'un!" shouted the crowd, and he squared up again. I felt
wretchedly ashamed and warded off all his blows, telling him that I
could not hit him or I should kill him.
"Yah!" shouted the crowd again; "go it, little un! Let 'im 'ave it! The
long un's showing the white feather," etc., and finally I gave him a
slight backhander that made his nose bleed and seemed to demoralize him
completely. "Yah!" shouted the crowd; "'it one yer own size!"
I looked round in despair and rage, and picking out the biggest man I
could see, said, "Are _you_ big enough?" The crowd roared with laughter.
Pages:
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111