--not for our parents, however, but for the neighbors. We had
plenty of odd jobs to do at home, but such work was a matter of
obligation and not remunerative, nor was it interesting. With this
money Henry and I each bought a game-chicken, {329} which we kept
cooped up separately in the back lot behind the stable. Neither father
nor mother knew anything about it, of course.

We would let these two game-cocks out half a dozen times a day. They
would rush at each other fiercely, but before the battle was fairly on,
we would summarily part them, and put them back in their coops, which
were placed opposite each other, when they would indulge in
chicken-swearing and personalities as much as they desired. Their
appetites for fighting were whetted indeed. In fact, there was so much
animosity engendered between these two birds that they would rush
together like two express trains trying to pass each other on the same
track whenever they were turned loose. There was no time sparring for
time or position. It was fight from the moment they saw each other,
although we never let them strike more than one blow or two. A
half-minute round was enough for us. I think it really scared us.

Charles, in spirit of revenge, let them out one day during our absence.
When we got back from school we had only one chicken between us. It
was a wonderful chicken, for it had beaten the other, although the
conquered bird had fought until it had been killed. We burned him on a
funeral pyre as a dead gladiator, with much ceremony and boyish
speaking. We wanted to sacrifice to his _manes_ a hen as his wife, but
finally concluded to abandon that part of the ceremony; mother kept
count of the hens, you see.

Of course, Julius Caesar (as we named him) had the run of the yard
thereafter, there being no one to oppose him. He led a very peaceful
life until our next door neighbor bought a large Shanghai rooster. I
forgot now what particular breed our rooster was, {330} but he was
small, not much larger than a bantam. The Shanghai rooster, which was
a huge monster, had the most provoking crow, large, loud and
aggressive. An alley intervened between the yard where he held forth
and our yard. One day we came home from school and looked for our
chicken. He was gone!

We hunted everywhere for him, but could not find him. We missed the
crowing of the Shanghai rooster, which had been frequent and
exasperating, I have no doubt. The yard was very