est till Tom had fairly indited a
challenge. This the Captain had the great satisfaction of delivering
personally to Mr. Chanticleer, who turned very red in the face on
reading it, and made some little attempts at an apology. These the
Captain would not listen to, saying, the insult was too great for
apologies; and Chanticleer was at last obliged to refer him to his
friend, Sir Wiley Reynard, of Underwood, to arrange a meeting.

Poor Tom! I think I see him now, as he came with his long face to tell
me of the scrape he had got into.

"I would stay at home," said the unfortunate youth, with tears in his
eyes, "but that I am afraid of offending Captain Bulldog, who will,
perhaps, challenge me himself, if I don't fight Chanticleer; and of the
two enemies," added Tom, forcing a faint smile, "you know which I should
prefer."

Afterwards, Tom told me where the meeting was to be; and as I thought my
young neighbour might want a friend, I determined to be near at hand.

It was about six o'clock on a cold, grey, autumn morning, that I
concealed myself in a thicket by the side of Goose Common, and waited
the arrival of the combatants. Captain Bulldog, with young Leverett by
his side, were first on the field, and I could see that poor Tom shook
in every limb. They did not wait long. A post-chaise soon came
clattering along the road, and out of it jumped Sir Wiley Reynard,
Doctor Crane, and Mr. Chanticleer. Sir Wiley and the Captain soon
arranged the preliminaries, and Chanticleer walked boldly and jauntily
to his post. Not so my friend. Poor Tom, fainthearted at all times, was
now terrified to such a degree, that the Captain had absolutely to
support him, or he would certainly have dropped. Presently, Sir Wiley
gave the signal to fire; Tom complied at once, and sent his bullet
flying somewhere above my head, about as wide of the mark as it well
could be; and then, without waiting for the compliment of a return, off
he started as fast as ever his legs carried him in his life, cleared the
hedge at a bound, and ran straight into a thick wood. I nearly died with
laughter, not only to see Tom run, but to behold the terrible look of
the Captain, as he gazed after his flying friend; to watch the surprised
and somewhat pleased look of Chanticleer, who seemed half inclined to
fire after the fugitive; and to see the puzzled expression of Sir
Wiley's face, and the comical grin on Dr. Crane's, as he tapped his box
and offered the Baronet a