again at the lad, grinning like a dog, and meaning
to take a savage revenge. But to his astonishment Tom did not attempt
to run away. He flew to meet him, when there was a sharp encounter,
heavy blows were delivered on either side, and Pete went down, but this
time on the grass.

He was up again directly, clinging still to the belief that his
adversary was horribly afraid, and merely fighting in desperation; and
once more he rushed at Tom, who was quite ready to rush at him.

And then for fully ten minutes there was a succession of desperate
encounters. They were not in the slightest degree scientific; they were
not what people call rounds, and there was no squaring, for everything
was of the most singular description: arms flew about like windmill
sails; fists came in contact with fists, arms, heads, faces, chests, and
at times--in a curly or semi-circular kind of blow--with backs and
shoulders. Now they were up, now they were down; then up again to
close, hitting, wrestling, and going down to continue the hitting on the
ground. Sometimes Tom was undermost, sometimes Pete occupied that
position.

And so the fight went on desperately for the above-named ten minutes, at
the end of which time they went down together with a heavy thud, after
Pete had run in with his head down like a ram, receiving a couple of
heavy cracks, but succeeding in gripping Tom about the waist, and trying
to lift and throw him.

But the long, big, loose-jointed fellow had miscalculated his strength.
Far stronger than Tom at the commencement, his powers had soon begun to
fail, while, though panting heavily, thickset, sturdy, bulldog like Tom
had plenty of force left in him still, the result being that Pete's
effort to lift and throw him proved a failure, ending in a dexterous
wrench throwing him off his balance, and another sending him down with
his adversary upon his chest.

The next minute Tom had extricated himself, Pete's clutch giving way
easily; a leg was dragged out from beneath him, and Tom sat panting on
the grass, ready to spring up if Pete made a movement.

But there was none of an inimical nature, for Pete was completely
beaten, and lay upon his back wagging his head from side to side, and
drawing up and straightening his legs slowly, as if he were a frog
swimming upside down.

Then he began to howl, with the tears streaming out of his eyes; but for
the time being Tom was still too hot, and there was too much of the
natura