th distended to the utmost.
Instantly, on finding bottom, he turned to deal his opponent another
blow; but it was not needed. When Bob Croaker's head rose to the surface
there was no motion in the features, and the eyes were closed. The
intended blow was changed into a friendly grasp; and, exerting himself to
the utmost, Martin dragged his insensible school-fellow to the bank,
where, in a few minutes, he recovered sufficiently to declare in a sulky
tone that he would fight no more!

"Bob Croaker," said Martin, holding out his hand, "I'm sorry we've had to
fight. I wouldn't have done it, but to save my kitten. You compelled me
to do it, you know that. Come, let's be friends again."

Bob made no reply, but slowly and with some difficulty put on his vest
and jacket.

"I'm sure," continued Martin, "there's no reason in bearing me ill-will.
I've done nothing unfair, and I'm very sorry we've had to fight. Won't
you shake hands?"

Bob was silent.

"Come, come, Bob!" cried several of the bigger boys, "don't be sulky,
man; shake hands and be friends. Martin has licked you this time, and
you'll lick him next time, no doubt, and that's all about it."

"Arrah, then, ye're out there, intirely. Bob Croaker'll niver lick Martin
Rattler though he wos to live to the age of the great M'Thuselah!'" said
a deep-toned voice close to the spot where the fight had taken place.

All eyes were instantly turned in the direction whence it proceeded, and
the boys now became aware, for the first time, that the combat had been
witnessed by a sailor, who, with a smile of approval beaming on his
good-humoured countenance, sat under the shade of a neighbouring tree
smoking a pipe of that excessive shortness and blackness that seems to be
peculiarly beloved by Irishmen in the humbler ranks of life. The man was
very tall and broad-shouldered, and carried himself with a free-and-easy
swagger, as he rose and approached the group of boys.

"He'll niver bate ye, Martin, avic, as long as there's two timbers of ye
houldin' togither."

The seaman patted Martin on the head as he spoke; and, turning to Bob
Croaker, continued: "Ye ought to be proud, ye spalpeen, o' bein' wopped
by sich a young hero as this. Come here and shake hands with him: d'ye
hear? Troth an' it's besmearin' ye with too much honour that same. There,
that'll do. Don't say ye're sorry now, for it's lies ye'd be tellin' if
ye did. Come along, Martin, an' I'll convarse with ye as ye go ho