Robin gathered himself up on the spot to which Roupall had flung him;

his chin resting on his knees, round which his arms were clasped; his

narrow chest and shoulders heaving with the exertion of the conflict;

his eyes wild and glittering, yet fixed upon his adversary, like those

of some fierce animal eager to dart upon its prey. The trooper shook

himself, and passed his hand once or twice over his throat, as if to

ascertain whether or not he were really strangled; then returning

Robin's gaze as steadily, though with a far different expression, he

said,-"Upon my soul, you are as strong a hand at a grapple as I would care to

meet; nor would I believe, did I not know it, that Roupall the Rover,

who has borne more blows upon his thick head than there are days in

February, and rises six feet two without boots, could be half choked by

little Robin the Ranger, who stands forty inches in his shoes;--but I

beg pardon for offending a man of your mettle. I warrant you safe from

any future jests of mine; I like not quarrelling with old friends--when

there is nothing to be got by it. Tut, man! leave off your moping, and

shake hands, like a Christian. You wo'n't! why you are not going to

convert your body into a nursery for bad blood, are you? What would

pretty Barbara Iverk say to that?"

Robin laughed a laugh so loud, so shrill, so unearthly, that it echoed

like a death-howl along the walls; then stretched out and looked on his

ill-formed limbs, extended his long and grappling fingers, and muttered

bitterly, "Curse!--curse!--curses on myself! I am a dainty morsel for a

fair girl's love! Ah! ah! ah! a dainty morsel!" he repeated, and covered

his face with his broad palms. Thus, shutting out the sight of his own

deformities, and rocking himself backwards and forwards, moaning and

jibbering like one distraught, he remained for several minutes. At

length poor Crisp, who had been a most anxious spectator of the scene,

ran timidly to his master, and, standing on his hind legs, began licking

his fingers with an affectionate earnestness, more soothing to his

agitated feelings than all the sincere apologies of the trooper, whose

rough good-nature was really moved at what had taken place. Slowly

uncovering his face, Robin pressed the little animal to his bosom,

bending his head over it, and muttering in a tone the dog seemed fully

to understand, by the low whine with which he returned the caress. After

a time his eyes met those of Roupall's, but their meaning was totally

changed: they no longer sparkled with fury, but were as quiet and

subdued as if nothing had occurred.




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