Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1886-06-24

csnonal pronasG never ~. a6 fopipFvunIEy
Of tyrannidng owe him 0ne day, when
they were on In the playgroend, Done, IN
making high jump fdll verf awkwArdly,
and, amidst the roar Of laughter which fol-
lowed, little Brent ran forward and made
q pretense of smoothing the ground after
the overthrow Of the weighty Dona Exas-
perated by his fall, Done dashed forward and
gave little Brent such q box on the ear as
sent him spinning round, until he fell heavily
TO the ground Brent sprang up, all knit into
compactness with rage, and tried to give
Done blow on the face, which be seornfully
warded of, and told the little lad not to be so
impudent again But Brent, bristling and
stamping with passion, declared he would
have fight for it. which Done at first re-
fused, for all the boys cried out at the idea
But as the little fellow would not be appeased,
Done, having satisfied his honor by one re-
usal, and always liking to infict pain, ac-
epted the challenge, and the two stripped to
their shirts and went at it. For several
rounds littla Brent was knocked all over the
place; and they all felt for the game little
ad, but were sorry to see him so punished,
and especially in hopeless fight For my
lady readers will observe that one Of the
crowning achievements in the noble art
Is to imprint your fist on your opponents
face. Now if your arms arc only two
feet long, while those Of your opponent are
three feet, it will follow that while he may be
merrily hammering your countenance into
ruin, your return blows may fall only on the
unoffending air. This was Just what hap
pened now; and poor little Brent was hav-
ing q very dispiriting time of it Some of
the boys, however, noticed that he went
down wonderfully easy; and others, who
knew that the rector's groom was one Of the
best pair of fists in the county, began to
think that perhaps the little fellow had
picked up some of the tactics from Bobby
Miller" and was trying a waiting game.
Done thought so, too; and being large mealy
boy, with rather uncertain wind, he re-
solved to bring the thing to an end, and gave
Brent one savage blow, which produced very
disagreeable results on the poor little mans
nose. Brent was not knocked out Of it, how
ever, as Done hoped; but the very opposite.
He was strung together with fury; but even
in his rage he did not forget the instruc-
tions Of his master, Bobby miller" He
rushed at Done; and, while the other in his
magnifcence was guarding himself carelessly,
little Brent "got in," and began to return on
Done's face all the blows he had received,
principal and interest. How those little fists
flew and hammered! How Done retreated
over the ground, wildly trying to get his
adversary outside range again, while still
little Brent drubbed away with astounding
rapidity and vigor! The fact was the little
fox was quite fresh, while Done was thor
oughly blown. Bobby miller" knew his
business, and would have been proud of his
young master had he been there to see At
last Done, nearly blind with blows and rage,
made one grand effort to destroy his enemy
with an appearance of ease. 1t was fatal to
him. Brent was really warm to his work,
and not likely to miss an opening. In rapid
succession he managed to plant three blows
just under Done's left eye, the last delivered
to grass, where he lay vanquished, Brent
standing over him with fists still clinched,
and burning, it seemed, for little more.
That was sixteen years ago. John Done,
Junior, was now a rather bulky young man,
with white fiat face, very small sunken
eyes, smile which expressed a narrow mind
satisfied with itself, and unprepossessing
manners. His habits, too, had not been the
best, and it was known in Kettlewell that he
was, in his sly way, man Of dissolute habits
he had now been absent, off and on, for
nearly four years; but when he returned
home he happened to hear Of Sophia Temple
and her little affair with Percival Brent By
q curious chance he had met Brent in
Australia himself, and. although outwardly
civil to him, he remembered with a grudge
the thrashing Of years gone by; for his nature
was of that sluggish sort, where revenge
burns long and sullenly, like fuel in slow
combustion stove When he came home and
heard about Sophia, the thought struck him
what nice girl she was, and what fine
thing it would be to marry the woman for
whom his former foe was working now in
another hemisphere! He pondered His
eyes Lit with their half-animal gleam. He
said: II can manage it."