Walking
the grass tips had begun to tire those reaching legs. The cock
soon straddled along with a serious eye and an open mouth. But the
gobbler gave him no rest. When, at length, he released his hold,
the game-cock lay weary and wild-eyed, with no more fight in him
than a bunch of rags. Soon he rose and ran away and hid himself in
the stable. The culprit fowl was then tried, convicted, and
sentenced to the block.
"It's the fate of all fighters that have only a selfish cause,"
said the teacher. He was sitting on the grass, Polly, and Tom, and
Paul, beside him.
"Look here," said he, suddenly. "I'll show you another fight."
All gathered about him. Down among the grass roots an ant stood
facing a big, hairy spider. The ant backed away, presently, and
made a little detour, the spider turning quickly and edging toward
him. The ant stood motionless, the spider on tiptoe, with daggers
drawn. The big, hairy spider leaped like a lion to its prey. They
could see her striking with the fatal knives, her great body
quivering with fierce energy. The little ant was hidden beneath
it. Some uttered a cry of pity, and Paul was for taking sides.
"Wait a moment," said the teacher, restraining his hand.
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