Robert, now that he had not
been chosen, felt murder in his heart. His body felt charged with
energy, a flood of passion poured over him and he lost all discretion.
He saw only Peter's shining collar, his fine boots and good clothes, and
above all the smile, half of shame, half of triumph, upon his face. In
passing Peter staggered against Robert, who let drive with his fist, and
there was a fight before anyone really knew what had happened.
"What are ye shovin' at? Can ye no' watch folk's toes?" And he was on
Peter like a whirlwind. There was the hatred of years between them, and
they pummeled each other heartily.
"A fight, boys!" yelled the others. "Here's a fight!" and a crowd
rapidly gathered to watch operations, while little Mysie, who had been
the cause of it all, shrank back into a quiet corner, the tears running
from her eyes and a sore pain at her heart.
"Go on, Bob! Gi'e him a jelly yin," cried Bob's supporters.
"Watch for his nose, Peter," cried those who pinned their faith to the
coal-owner's son. Amid a chorus of such encouragement, both boys
belabored each other and fought like barbarians.
"Let up, Peter," cried Bob's admirers, "an' gi'e him fair doo," as the
two rolled upon the ground, with Peter, who was much the bigger boy, on
top.
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