world. But as this is rather difficult, what we ought to be
careful about is, that we never fight except in a good cause and with a
clear conscience.

It was well for Martin Rattler, on that great day, that the formation of
the ground favoured him. The spot on which the fight took place was
uneven, and covered with little hillocks and hollows, over which Bob
Croaker stumbled, and into which he fell,--being a clumsy boy on his
legs,--and did himself considerable damage; while Martin, who was firmly
knit and active as a kitten, scarcely ever fell, or, if he did, sprang up
again like an India-rubber ball. Fair-play was embedded deep in the
centre of Martin's heart, so that he scorned to hit his adversary when he
was down or in the act of rising; but the thought of the fate that
awaited the white kitten if he were conquered, acted like lightning in
his veins, and scarcely had Bob time to double his fists after a fall,
when he was knocked back again into the hollow out of which he had risen.
There were no _rounds_ in this fight,--no pausing to recover breath.
Martin's anger rose with every blow, whether given or received; and
although he was knocked down flat four or five times, he rose again, and,
without a second's delay, rushed headlong at his enemy. Feeling that he
was too little and light to make much impression on Bob Croaker by means
of mere blows, he endeavoured as much as possible to throw his weight
against him at each assault; but Bob stood his ground well, and after a
time seemed even to be recovering strength a little.

Suddenly he made a rush at Martin, and, dealing him a successful blow on
the forehead, knocked him down; at the same time he himself tripped over
a molehill and fell upon his face. Both were on their legs in an instant.
Martin grew desperate. The white kitten swimming for its life seemed to
rise before him, and new energy was infused into his frame. He retreated
a step or two, and then darted forward like an arrow from a bow. Uttering
a loud cry, he sprang completely in the air and plunged--head and fists
together, as if he were taking a dive--into Bob Croaker's bosom! The
effect was tremendous. Bob went down like a shock of grain before the
sickle; and having, in their prolonged movements, approached close to the
brink of the stream, both he and Martin went with a sounding splash into
the deep pool and disappeared. It was but for a moment, however, Martin's
head emerged first, with eyes and mou