He felt much as an astronomer feels who has discovered a new planet—no doubt, as far as strong, deep, unalloyed pleasure is concerned, the advantage was with the boy, not the astronomer.
The summer evenings were long. It was not dark, yet. Presently Tom checked his whistle. A stranger was before him—a boy a shade larger than himself. A new-comer of any age or either sex was an im-pressive curiosity in the poor little shabby village of St. Petersburg. This boy was well dressed, too—well dressed on a week-day. This was simply astounding. His cap was a dainty thing, his close-buttoned blue cloth roundabout was new and natty, and so were his pantaloons. He had shoes on—and it was only Friday. He even wore a necktie, a bright bit of ribbon. He had a citified air about him that ate into Tom’s vitals. The more Tom stared at the splendid marvel, the higher he turned up his nose at his finery and the shabbier and shabbier his own outfit seemed to him to grow. Neither boy spoke. If one moved, the other moved—but only sidewise, in a circle; they kept face to face and eye to eye all the time. Finally Tom said:
“I can lick you!”
“I’d like to see you try it.”
“Well, I can do it.”
“No you can’t, either.”
“Yes I can.”
“No you can’t.”
“I can.”
“You can’t.”
“Can!”
“Can’t!”
An uncomfortable pause. Then Tom said:
“What’s your name?”
“’Tisn’t any of your business, maybe.”
“Well I ’low I’ll make it my business.”
“Well why don’t you?”
“If you say much, I will.”
“Much—much—much. There now.”
“Oh, you think you’re mighty smart, don’t you? I could lick you with one hand tied behind me, if I wanted to.”
“Well why don’t you do it? You say you can do it.”
“Well I will, if you fool with me.”
“Oh yes—I’ve seen whole families in the same fix.”
“Smarty! You think you’re some, now, don’t you? Oh, what a hat!”
“You can lump that hat if you don’t like it. I dare you to knock it off—and anybody that’ll take a dare will suck eggs.”
“You’re a liar!”
“You’re another.”
“You’re a fighting liar and dasn’t take it up.”
“Aw—take a walk!”
“Say—if you give me much more of your sass I’ll take and bounce a rock off’n your head.”
“Oh, of course you will.”
“Well I will.”
“Well why don’t you do it then? What do you keep saying you will for? Why don’t you do it? It’s because you’re afraid.”
“I ain’t afraid.”
“You are.”
“I ain’t.”
“You are.”
Another pause, and more eying and sidling around each other. Presently they were shoulder to shoulder. Tom said:
“Get away from here!”
“Go away yourself!”
“I won’t.”
“I won’t either.”
So they stood, each with a foot placed at an angle as a brace, and both shoving with might and main, and glowering at each other with hate. But neither could get an advantage. After struggling till both were hot and flushed, each relaxed his strain with watchful caution, and Tom said:
“You’re a coward and a pup. I’ll tell my big brother on you, and he can thrash you with his little finger, and I’ll make him do it, too.”
“What do I care for your big brother? I’ve got a brother that’s bigger than he is—and what’s more, he can throw him over that fence, too.” [Both brothers were imaginary.]
“That’s a lie.”
“Your saying so don’t make it so.”
Tom drew a line in the dust with his big toe, and said:
“I dare you to step over that, and I’ll lick you till you can’t stand up. Anybody that’ll take a dare will steal sheep.”
The new boy stepped over promptly, and said:
“Now you said you’d do it, now let’s see you do it.”
“Don’t you crowd me now; you better look out.”
“Well, you said you’d do it—why don’t you do it?”
“By jingo! for two cents I will do it.”
The new boy took two broad coppers out of his pocket and held them out with derision. Tom struck them to the ground. In an instant both boys were rolling and tumbling in the dirt, gripped together like cats; and for the space of a minute they tugged and tore at each other’s hair and clothes, punched and scratched each other’s nose, and covered themselves with dust and glory. Presently the confusion took form, and through the fog of battle Tom appeared, seated astride the new boy, and pounding him with his fists. “Holler ’nuff!” said he.
The boy only struggled to free himself. He was crying—mainly from rage.
“Holler ’nuff!”—and the pounding went on.
At last the stranger got out a smothered “’Nuff!” and Tom let him up and said:
“Now that’ll learn you. Better look out who you’re fooling with next time.”
The new boy went off brushing the dust from his clothes, sobbing, snuffling, and occasionally looking back and shaking his head and threatening what he would do to Tom the “next time he caught him out.”
