Further Adventures of Quincy Adams Sawyer and Mason Corner Folks Part 32

Bob removed his coat and threw it on the ground. "If you'll come one at a time, I'll lick you both."

Quincy addressed Mary. "Don't be distressed. You may pardon his offence to you if you choose, but I'm going to settle my personal account with him. He doubted my word. I'm going to make him believe what I said, and by that time he'll be ready to apologize to you."

Bob squared off, but Quincy did not raise his hands.

"Are you 'fraid? Don't you know how to put up your dukes?"

"I'm not a boxer," said Quincy, "if that's what you mean. I'll look out for myself, rough and tumble."

Bob rushed forward and aimed a blow at Quincy's face. It fell short, for Quincy retreated; then, springing forward, he gave Bob a violent kick on his left knee. As his opponent threw his right leg over to keep his balance he was obliged to lean forward; Quincy caught him by the collar and Bob went sprawling upon the ground. He leaped to his feet, red with rage.

"Why don't you fight fair?" he bellowed.

"You fight your way and I'll fight mine," was Quincy's reply.

"All right," cried Bob, "I'll try your way."

He sprang upon Quincy and grabbed him by the collar with both hands and pulled him forward. This just suited Quincy, for, catching Bob around the legs, he lifted him high in the air and threw him backwards over his head. Bob's face was cut and bleeding, when he arose.

"Time's up," cried Tom. "Three straight falls settle it."

"The first one don't count," growled Bob. "He sneaked in on me and I had no show."

"He's right, Tom," said Quincy. "We'll have one more after this if he wants it."

This time Bob profited by having observed his antagonist's tactics. He caught Quincy around the body and tried to crush him with his brawny, muscular arms.

Tom gave a cry of alarm and came close to the wrestlers.

"Keep back, Tom," cried Quincy. As he spoke he fell backwards, carrying Bob with him, who gave a yell of exultation as Quincy's shoulders struck the ground. His hold was relaxed while falling. Quincy doubled his legs up, put both feet against Bob's stomach, gave him a violent kick, and Bob was once more upon his back.

"'Twarn't fair," he yelled. "I had him down first."

"We weren't playing for points," said Quincy, "and everything's fair in rough and tumble. If you want some more, I'm ready."

Bob stood sullenly, but made no move forward.

"Now, let's talk it over," said Tom. "Do you think this young lady or my friend lied to you? Before you answer, just remember this is my fight now, and unless you take back the lie and apologize for what you said and did to this young lady, I'll thrash you so they'll have to send a wagon to carry you home."

Bob did not speak.

"Quincy," said Tom, "you go along with the young lady, and I'll settle my account after you're gone. You look a little white around the gills.

You had no right to fight a heavy-weight like him."

"I wish to thank you both," said Mary, "but I'm a stranger in this town--I have lived here only a few months, and--I don't know your names."

She blushed prettily and the lids modestly covered the blue eyes. The three had moved along the road a short distance while she was speaking.

"My name is Quincy Adams Sawyer, and this is my friend and cla.s.smate at Andover, Thomas Chripp."

The lids were lifted but the blush deepened. "My name is Mary Dana. I live with my father on Pettingill Street."

"Why," cried Quincy, "Ezekiel Pettingill is my uncle--I live with him.

I'm going home your way, and, with your permission, I will escort you to your father's house."

"All right, Quincy--you go ahead," said Tom. "But you must excuse me.

I've kept Mr. Wood waiting."

They were around a bend in the road by this time. When Tom returned to the scene of the encounter, Mr. Wood was not in sight. Mr. Chripp laughed, and paraphrased an old couplet.

"He who fights, then runs away, Will have to fight some other day."

Quincy walked beside Mary, but said little. He would not acknowledge it, but the exertion had been too much for him. His knees felt weak, his sight grew dim, and, before Mary was aware of his condition, he sank upon the gra.s.s by the roadside.

She knelt beside him, took off his straw hat and fanned him. Then she lifted his head upon her knee and fanned more vigorously. Her big blue eyes were gazing at him when he opened his and looked up into her face.

Again, a rosy flush came to her cheeks.

"I'm better now," said he. "I'm not very strong, but I can walk now."

He got up with a show of vigour that did not deceive Mary.

"You rest here, and I'll send your uncle for you with a carriage."

"By no means, Miss Mary, It was only a momentary feeling. Throwing him over my head is what did it."

"I'm so sorry you met Mr. Wood and me."

"Well, I'm not, Miss Mary. Uncle 'Zeke told me that Bob Wood's father used to be the town bully, and that my father, when they were both young, gave him a good thras.h.i.+ng. I've watched Bob--we were in school together, and he was always impudent and overbearing to me when I was a little fellow. I've felt that some day we'd have it out together. I'm glad it's over, and that I had the good fortune to serve you at the same time."

Mr. Dana thanked Quincy for his defence of his daughter from further insult and perhaps injury.

"I've been in a good many sc.r.a.ps myself, Mr. Sawyer. For seventeen years I was a member of the detective squad in Boston. I resigned because of injuries received in a fight with some bank robbers," and he pointed to the crutches beside his chair, "and although they wanted me to stay at police headquarters I wouldn't hang onto a job I couldn't do to my own satisfaction."

"I hope your daughter will have no further trouble with Mr. Wood."

"No danger, Mr. Sawyer. She is going to boarding school very soon to finish her education. Why, Mary, we have been very remiss. Can you not offer Mr. Sawyer some refreshment?"

Mary smiled and ran from the room.

"You'll be lonely without her," remarked Quincy.

"Yes, certainly, but I shall not be alone. It's a secret as yet, but the fact is I'm going to marry a young lady who lives in Westvale, part of Eastborough, you know, and I don't wish to force Mary to live with a step-mother. I think they would agree all right, but my plan will prevent any possible unpleasantness. I love them both too well to make them, and myself, unhappy."

Some dainty cakes, fruit, and cold well water were served in the dining room. Quincy ate slowly, but his thoughts were not about the food. He had shown little interest in the Fernborough girls with the exception of those in the families of his relatives and closest friends. But he was nearing the susceptible age, when, to a pure-minded boy, a girl playmate, by some mysterious transformation, becomes an object of admiration, and even veneration. That delicious mystery that surrounds young womanhood was attracting him. Mary was the cause of his newly-awakened interest, and soon a strong friends.h.i.+p sprang up between the two.

When Hiram heard that Quincy had got the best of young Bob Wood he ran back to the store and told his partner.

"Say, Strout, you can run the store for an hour or so. I must tell Mandy. She'll be 'mos' tickled to death."