CHAPTER XV.
ARTHUR’S FIGHT TO SAVE RUSTY.
In all his life Arthur had never before found it necessary to fight, though he had certainly received provocation enough from his Cousin Dick to do so more than once. His own father had taught him to hate fighting and to avoid it if possible, as he would anything else that was ungentlemanly and wrong. At the same time Mr. Dustin had been too wise a man not to know that occasions may arise in everybody’s life when it becomes absolutely necessary to fight. He believed, for instance, that it is right and proper to do so in defence of the weak and helpless who have claims upon us for protection, provided that is the only way of defending them, and this principle he had thoroughly instilled into his child’s mind.
Mr. Dustin also believed that every boy should be taught to use the weapons with which nature has provided him—namely, his fists—for the protection of himself and others, just as he should be taught to read and write or do a thousand other things necessary to his success and happiness in life.
Thus believing, and having been himself one of the best boxers in his college gymnasium, he had begun to instruct his little son in the art of self-defence on the very day that the boy’s mother began to teach him his letters. Now, therefore, although Arthur had never fought a battle with any other boy, he had a very fair knowledge of what he ought to do under the circumstances, and of how to do it.
All his father’s talks upon the subject flashed into his mind, and he seemed to remember every word of them. He could almost hear the dear voice say: “Never fight if you can help it, but if the time comes that you feel it to be your duty, then pitch in with all your heart, with all your strength, and with all your skill. Then fight just as long as you can stand, or until you have won a victory.”
In the present instance, surrounded as he was by fierce-looking, hard-hearted men, who acknowledged no law but that of brute force, and with poor little Rusty crouching at his feet, so certain was the boy of his duty, that he prepared for the coming struggle with a brave heart, though with a very white face.
The boy called “Kid” was perfectly willing to fight; in fact, there was nothing he enjoyed more, especially when, as in this case, he saw the prospect of an easy victory before him. So, as he stood up in front of Arthur, the firelight disclosed a broad grin on his dirty face. He looked so much stronger and heavier than his antagonist, that some of the men were touched with pity for the little fellow, and murmured that it wasn’t a square deal.
“That’s all right,” said the big tramp, who had taken charge of the affair. “The young chap’s got sand or else he wouldn’t be here. He’s been talking pretty big too, and now he’s got the chance to show whether he can back up his words or not.”
To the amazement of the spectators the battle was a long and a hard one; for the new-comer’s pluck and skill were evenly matched against the other’s weight and a dogged pride that forbade him to yield to one younger and smaller than himself. Still, he was in the wrong, and he knew it; while Arthur was in the right, and knew that he was. The boy who was fighting in defence of the weak and the helpless never once thought of giving in, and so the other had to. They finally went to the ground together, with Arthur on top, and this ended the struggle. The “Kid” began to cry: “Lemme up! lemme up! I don’t want to fight no more wid a perfessional. Lemme up!”
Then Arthur left him, and walked to where poor little Rusty was crouching, with his rope held by one of the tramps. Taking the rope in his hand, and lifting his brave, flushed face, blood-stained from a slight cut on his forehead, to that of the big tramp who had ordered the pup to be beaten, the boy asked: “Is he my dog now?”
“Of course he is, sonny; of course he is!” answered the big man, promptly. “You’ve fought the bulliest kind of a fight for him, and I’d like to see the man as would try to take him from you.”
As he spoke, the big tramp glared about him, as though wishing somebody would dare dispute his words, but nobody did. Every one of those who now crowded about the boy, anxious to shake hands with him and congratulate him on his victory, expressed the heartiest approval of what the big man said. They all seemed to regard Arthur as a hero, and to feel highly honored by his presence in their camp. Even his dog received a full share of praise and petting, and was utterly bewildered by the sudden turn in the tide of popular opinion concerning him.
Seeing that the young champion was rendered uncomfortable by the over-officiousness of those who crowded about him, the big tramp, who seemed to exercise an acknowledged authority over them, ordered the rest to clear out, and leave the little chap to him. Then he took Arthur to the brook, and bathed his face and hands, and even his bare feet, in its cool waters, with a degree of tenderness surprising in one so big and rough.
A few minutes later supper was announced, and the big tramp made Arthur sit beside him on the ground, in front of a kettle that contained a most delicious-smelling stew of chicken and potatoes and onions and green corn, and several other things. To be sure, Arthur was obliged to eat his portion out of a hastily improvised bowl of birch bark, made for him by his big friend, with a rude wooden spoon provided by the same ingenious individual; but how good it was! How often that bark bowl was refilled, and how proud the cooks were to have the hero of the feast thus compliment them so highly.
As for little Rusty, who seemed to recognize Arthur as his friend and protector, and kept close beside him, there never was a dog treated with greater consideration. Everybody wanted to feed him, and kept tossing choice morsels of food to him. He ate everything thus offered, with perfect impartiality, until at length he had no room for another morsel, and even the daintiest bits of chicken failed to tempt him.
After supper all the tramps were anxious to learn something of Arthur’s history, and who had taught him to fight so skilfully, and how he happened to visit their camp. So he told them about his own dear father, who had given him boxing lessons, and about living with Uncle John and Aunt Nancy, and how he and Uncle Phin had decided to go to his grandfather’s in Virginia, and were travelling in a boat, and how it had run aground so that they couldn’t get it off, and Uncle Phin had gone in search of help, and how he happened to get lost in the woods, and finally how he discovered their camp; all of which was listened to with absorbing interest.
When he finished, the big tramp spoke up and said: “Well, fellers, from this little chap’s account of hisself, I don’t see but what him and his old Uncle Phin is travelling through the country pretty much the same as we does, like gentlemen of leisure and independent means, as it were. In fact I should call ’em a couple of honest tramps, as is making their way through the world without asking no odds of nobody.”
“That’s so,” assented several voices.
“Such being the case,” continued the big man, “It is clearly our dooty to help ’em out of the fix they’ve got into, and I move that we all go down to the river, first thing in the morning, and set their old scow afloat.”
As this motion seemed to meet with general approval, Arthur was cordially invited to spend the night in the tramps’ camp, and was assured that they would guide him to the Ark, and that it should be started on its voyage the very first thing in the morning. As there really seemed nothing else for him to do, the little fellow accepted the invitation, though he wished he could get back to the boat that night, and thus relieve the anxiety that he knew Uncle Phin must be suffering on account of his unexplained disappearance.
In the meantime he had recovered his book from the big tramp, who had held it during the fight, and it now lay on the grass beside him. He had mentioned that he sometimes read stories from this book to Uncle Phin, and now the big tramp said to him: “Look here, sonny, why won’t you read a story to us out of your book, just to pass away the time? If you will, I will give you some information that may prove useful to you in your travels, but which you can’t find in any book in the world.”