by G. A. Henty
CHAPTER XVII.
THE DOG FIGHT.
Saturday afternoon walks, when there were no special games on hand,became an institution among what may be called Jack Simpson's set atStokebridge. The young fellows had followed his lead with allseriousness, and a stranger passing would have been astonished at thetalk, so grave and serious was it. In colliery villages, as at school,the lad who is alike the head of the school and the champion at allgames, is looked up to and admired and imitated, and his power for goodor for evil is almost unlimited among his fellows. Thus the Saturdayafternoon walks became supplements to the evening classes, and questionsof all kinds were propounded to Jack, whose attainments they regarded asprodigious.
On such an afternoon, as Jack was giving his friends a brief sketch ofthe sun and its satellites, and of the wonders of the telescope, theyheard bursts of applause by many voices, and a low, deep growling ofdogs.
"It is a dog fight," one of the lads exclaimed.
"It is a brutal sport," Jack said. "Let us go another way."
One of the young fellows had, however, climbed a gate to see what wasgoing on beyond the hedge.
"Jack," he exclaimed, "there is Bill Haden fighting his old bitch Floraagainst Tom Walker's Jess, and I think the pup is a-killing the olddorg."
With a bound Jack Simpson sprang into the field, where some twenty orthirty men were standing looking at a dog fight. One dog had got theother down and was evidently killing it.
"Throw up the sponge, Bill," the miners shouted. "The old dorg's no goodagin the purp."
Jack dashed into the ring, with a kick he sent the young dog flyingacross the ring, and picked up Flora, who, game to the last, struggledto get at her foe.
A burst of indignation and anger broke from the men.
"Let un be." "Put her down." "Dang thee, how dare'st meddle here?" "I'llknock thee head off," and other shouts sounded loudly and threateningly.
"For shame!" Jack said indignantly. "Be ye men! For shame, Bill Haden,to match thy old dog, twelve year old, wi' a young un. She's been a gooddorg, and hast brought thee many a ten-pun note. If be'est tired of her,gi' her poison, but I woant stand by and see her mangled."
"How dare 'ee kick my dorg?" a miner said coming angrily forward; "howdare 'ee come here and hinder sport?"
"Sport!" Jack said indignantly, "there be no sport in it. It is brutalcruelty."
"The match be got to be fought out," another said, "unless Bill Hadenthrows up the sponge for his dog."
"Come," Tom Walker said putting his hand on Jack's shoulder, "get out o'this; if it warn't for Bill Haden I'd knock thee head off. We be coom tosee spoort, and we mean to see it."
"Spoort!" Jack said passionately. "If it's spoort thee want'st I'll giveit thee. Flora sha'n't go into the ring agin, but oi ull. I'll fight thebest man among ye, be he which he will."
A chorus of wonder broke from the colliers.
"Then thou'st get to fight me," Tom Walker said. "I b'liev'," he went onlooking round, "there bean't no man here ull question that. Thou'stwanted a leathering for soom time, Jack Simpson, wi' thy larning and thyways, and I'm not sorry to be the man to gi' it thee."
"No, no," Bill Haden said, and the men round for the most part echoedhis words. "'Taint fair for thee to take t' lad at his word. He beroight. I hadn't ought to ha' matched Flora no more. She ha' been a goodbitch in her time, but she be past it, and I'll own up that thy pup ha'beaten her, and pay thee the two pounds I lay on her, if ee'll let thismatter be."
"Noa," Tom Walker said, "the young 'un ha' challenged the best man here,and I be a-goaing to lick him if he doant draw back."
"I shall not draw back," Jack said divesting himself of his coat,waistcoat, and shirt. "Flora got licked a'cause she was too old, maybeI'll be licked a'cause I be too young; but she made a good foight, andso'll oi. No, dad, I won't ha' you to back me. Harry here shall dothat."
The ring was formed again. The lads stood on one side, the men on theother. It was understood now that there was to be a fight, and no onehad another word to say.
"I'll lay a fi'-pound note to a shilling on the old un," a miner said.
"I'll take 'ee," Bill Haden answered. "It hain't a great risk to run,and Jack is as game as Flora."
Several other bets were made at similar odds, the lads, although theydeemed the conflict hopeless, yet supporting their champion.
Tom Walker stood but little taller than Jack, who was about five feetsix, and would probably grow two inches more; but he was three stoneheavier, Jack being a pound or two only over ten while the pitmanreached thirteen. The latter was the acknowledged champion of theVaughan pits, as Jack was incontestably the leader among the lads. Thedisproportion in weight and muscle was enormous; but Jack had not aspare ounce of flesh on his bones, while the pitman was fleshy and outof condition.
It is not necessary to give the details of the fight, which lasted overan hour. In the earlier portion Jack was knocked down again and again,and was several times barely able to come up to the call of time; buthis bull-dog strain, as he called it, gradually told, while intemperatehabits and want of condition did so as surely upon his opponent.
The derisive shouts with which the men had hailed every knock-down blowearly in the fight soon subsided, and exclamations of admiration at thepluck with which Jack, reeling and confused, came up time after timetook their place.
"It be a foight arter all," one of them said at the end of the first tenminutes. "I wouldn't lay more nor ten to one now."
"I'll take as many tens to one as any o' ye like to lay," Bill Hadensaid, but no one cared to lay even these odds.
At the end of half an hour the betting was only two to one. Jack, whohad always "given his head," that is, had always ducked so as to receivethe blows on the top of his head, where they were supposed to do lessharm, was as strong as he was after the first five minutes. Tom Walkerwas panting with fatigue, wild and furious at his want of success overan adversary he had despised.
The cheers of the lads, silent at first, rose louder with each round,and culminated in a yell of triumph when, at the end of fifty-fiveminutes, Tom Walker, having for the third time in succession beenknocked down, was absolutely unable to rise at the call of "time" torenew the fight.
JACK IS VICTORIOUS.]
Never had an event created such a sensation in Stokebridge. At first thenews was received with absolute incredulity, but when it becamethoroughly understood that Bill Haden's boy, Jack Simpson, had lickedTom Walker, the wonder knew no bounds. So struck were some of the menwith Jack's courage and endurance, that the offer was made to him that,if he liked to go to Birmingham and put himself under that notedpugilist the "Chicken," his expenses would be paid, and L50 beforthcoming for his first match. Jack, knowing that this offer was madein good faith and with good intentions, and was in accordance with thecustom of mining villages, declined it courteously and thankfully, butfirmly, to the surprise and disappointment of his would-be backers, whohad flattered themselves that Stokebridge was going to produce achampion middle-weight.
He had not come unscathed from the fight, for it proved that one of hisribs had been broken by a heavy body hit; and he was for some weeks inthe hands of the doctor, and was longer still before he could again takehis place in the pit.
Bill Haden's pride in him was unbounded, and during his illness poor oldFlora, who seemed to recognize in him her champion, lay on his bed withher black muzzle in the hand not occupied with a book.
The victory which Jack had won gave the finishing stroke to hispopularity and influence among his companions, and silenced definitelyand for ever the sneers of the minority who had held out against thechange which he had brought about. He himself felt no elation at hisvictory, and objected to the subject even being alluded to.
"It was just a question of wind and last," he said. "I was nigh beingdone for at the end o' the first three rounds. I just managed to holdon, and then it was a certainty. If Tom Walker had been in condition hewould have finished me in ten minutes. If he
had come on working as agetter, I should ha' been nowhere; he's a weigher now and makes fat, andhis muscles are flabby. The best dorg can't fight when he's out o'condition."
But in spite of that, the lads knew that it was only bull-dog couragethat had enabled Jack to hold out over these bad ten minutes.
As for Jane Haden, her reproaches to her husband for in the first placematching Flora against a young dog, and in the second for allowing Jackto fight so noted a man as Tom Walker, were so fierce and vehement, thatuntil Jack was able to leave his bed and take his place by the fire,Bill was but little at home; spending all his time, even at meals, inthat place of refuge from his wife's tongue,--"the Chequers."