"Martain Rattler" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ballantyne R.M)

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 ever did, sprang up again like an india-rubber ball. Fair-play
was embedded deep in the centre of Martin's heart, so that lie 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 mole hill
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 closed. The intended blow was
changed into a friendly grasp, and, exerting him self to the utmost, Martin
dragged his insensible school - fellow to the bank, where in a few minutes, he
recovered sufficiently to declare in a sulky tone that he would fight no more.
"Bob Croaker," said Martin, holding out his hand, "I'm sorry we've had to fight.
I wouldn't have done it but to save my kitten. You compelled me to do it, you
know that. Come, let's be friends again.
Bob made no reply, but slowly and with some difficulty put on his vest and
jacket.
"I'm sure," continued Martin, "there's no reason in bearing me ill-will. I've
done nothing unfair, and I'm very sorry we've had to fight. Won't you shake
hands."
Bob was silent.