The Broad Highway

Brief though the respite had been, it had served me to recover my

breath, and, though my head yet rung from the cudgel-stroke, and

the blood still flowed freely, getting, every now and then, into

my eyes, my brain was clear as we fronted each other for what we

both knew must be the decisive bout.

The smith stood with his mighty shoulders stooped something

forward, his left arm drawn back, his right flung across his

chest, and, so long as we fought, I watched that great fist and

knotted forearm, for, though he struck oftener with his left, it

was in that passive right that I thought my danger really lay.

It is not my intention to chronicle this fight blow by blow;

enough, and more than enough, has already been said in that

regard; suffice it then, that as the fight progressed I found

that I was far the quicker, as I had hoped, and that the majority

of his blows I either blocked or avoided easily enough.

Time after time his fist shot over my shoulder, or over my head,

and time after time I countered heavily--now on his body, now on

his face; once he staggered, and once I caught a momentary

glimpse of his features convulsed with pain; he was smeared with

blood from the waist up, but still he came on.

I fought desperately now, savagely, taking advantage of every

opening, for though I struck him four times to his once, yet his

blows had four times the weight of mine; my forearms were bruised

to either elbow, and my breath came in gasps; and always I

watched that deadly "right." And presently it came, with arm

and shoulder and body behind it--quick as a flash, and resistless

as a cannonball; but I was ready, and, as I leaped, I struck, and

struck him clean and true upon the angle of the jaw; and,

spinning round, Black George fell, and lay with his arms wide

stretched, and face buried in the grass.

Slowly, slowly he got upon his knees, and thence to his feet, and

so stood panting, hideous with blood and sweat, bruised and cut

and disfigured, staring at me, as one in amaze.

Now, as I looked, my heart went out to him, and I reached forth

my right hand.

"George!" I panted. "Oh, George!"

But Black George only looked at me, and shook his head, and

groaned.

"Oh, Peter!" said he, "you be a man, Peter! I've fou't--ah! many

's the time, an' no man ever knocked me down afore. Oh, Peter!

I--I could love 'ee for it if I didn't hate the very sight of

'ee--come on, an' let's get it over an' done wi'."