The record-union., 1898-08-15

ing; he remembers how dear such un-
wieldiness cost one Of his dummy an
tagonists in the training jar. Open
mouthed, he hurls himself at his enc
mys great broadside, and his chisel
teeth snap to on mouthful of scales
behind the fin. In vain the green fish
strives to turn and bring his jaws to
bear He has drifted against the glass,
helpless and his enemy rams him again
A shower of scales goes settling to the
bottom, and the wounds show white in
his green ribs. He tries the surface
and the calm water is dashed into a
tempest of ripples. In despair he
plunges down to the narrow bottom,
hoping perhaps to find some hole to
shelter in till his hurts are healed. 1t
was a fatal decision, and he knows it
| too late Slantwise, like lance, the
red fish shoots down upon him, and
holds him in the narrow foot of the jar.
No rabbit driven by a ferret into the
blind end Of his burrow was ever so
much at the mercy Of his tormentor.
The green tail is the first to suffer. It
| is all too tempting a toothhold in it's
wavy, undulating curves. It's feathery,
/ transparent edge is torn to ribbons and
| then the red fish attacks the dorsal fin.
With every furious backward tug the
fabric gives, but still the poor fool clings
to the bottom, rather than face the ter
| rors above. Mai Vim and his hackers
have shouted their voices away. The
betting is ten tikals to one and no TAX
ers, and Mai KEN is softly aspersing
the reputation of the green fish's female
ancestors to the third generation, his
| fingers itching the while to drag his
\ rapra1nf chQnDinn int
If only the rules allowed it.
| But who shall passively allow him
self to be dissected by ragged teeth?
Naked Of scales from quarter to ru6-
der, the tortured green makes blind
rush upward, and, as his tormentor
makes grab at his pectoral fin, he
turns and grapples. 1t is a struggle Of
despair and in the tempestuous broil
| the spectators cannot for a few min
/ utes see which has the upper hand.
| Even Nai KEN takes heart to shout
a warcry, unaccompanied, however, by
| a bet. The combatants, fast locked,
seem to be spinning in an aimless circle.
Will they never break away? So ter
rifle is the struggle that shouts die
down to stifled CALCULATIONS; the gall
lery catches it's breath, and then a
great shout of victory rends the sum-
mer air For the straining bodies have
risen to the surface, and fountain of
| spray from the thrashing tails has
splashed the first line of eager faces;
when, with one supreme wrench the
red fish straightens himself Like bent
spring, tears himself free, and lays a
halting, zigZag course to the bottom
of the bowl. In his teeth he carries
much that does not belong to him; but
he has had enough, and, if his enemy
could even now flap fin, and right
himself in the water just for appear
ances, he might save his reputation
and his owners money But he is past
caring for fame. There he lies, ca
reened over on his side, with one torn
fin stump clear of the water, and a
ragged tail dropping idly toward the
bottom. He has fought his last fight,
and he wants death to take him quietly.
Tenderly Mai Vim lifts his game little
champion with the bamboo spoon He,
too, has fought his last fight, but there
are still seasons Of honorable retire
ment and family life before him. His
rigging hangs about him in a wreck
that would excite derision but for the
glory of it, and his teeth are blunted
beyond repair. And, even so, his great
hedrt Is not daundeO, IOr ne DlLeS say
agely at Mai Yim's finger, as that
proud sportsman restores him to his
travelling jar, and takes him home to
be the father of generations Of warriors
to come.
Vac Victis! The poor, battered corpse
Of the green fish is dishonored in his
most honorable death. Mai KEN, smoth-
ering an execration as he unties the
amount Of his lost wager from the cor
ner of his parnatng, sings him to the
dogs, still feebly waving a fin stump
Basil Thomson in the New Review.