t' lane."
"T' church clock's always hafe-an-hour fasst, thee knows."
"It isn't!"
"It is."
"T' church clock's t' one to go by, anyhow," the sexton's son
maintained.
His friend guffawed aloud.
"And it's a reight 'un to go by too, my sakes! when thee feyther shifts
t' time back'ards and for'ards every Sunday morning to suit hissen."
"To suit hissen! To suit t' ringers, ye mean!" said the sexton's son.
"What's thou to do wi' t' ringers?" was the reply, enforced apparently
by a punch in the back, and the two lads came cuffing and struggling up
the field, much to my alarm, but fortunately they were too busy to
notice us.
Meanwhile, the rest had not been idle at the wall. Jem had climbed on
the cart, and peeping through a brick hole he could see that they had
with some difficulty disengaged a very heavy stone. As we were turning
our heads to watch the two lads fighting near our hiding-place, we heard
the stone strike with a heavy thud upon the rotten ice below, and it was
echoed by a groan of satisfaction from above.
("Ready!" I whispered.)
"You'll break somebody's nose when it's frosted in," cried Bob Furniss,
in a tone of sincere gratification.
"Eh, Tim Binder! there'll be a rare job for thee feyther next spring,
fettling up this wall, by t' time we've done wi' it."
"Let me come," we heard Tim say. "Thou can't handle a stone. Let me
come. Th' ice is as soft as loppered milk, and i' ten minutes, I'll fill
yon bit they're so chuff of skating on, as thick wi' stones as a
quarry."
("Now!" I said.)
Our foes considerably outnumbered us, but I think they were at a
disadvantage. They had worked off a good deal of their steam, and ours
was at explosion point. We took them by surprise and in the rear. They
had had some hard exercise, and we were panting to begin. As a matter of
fact those who could get away ran away. We caught all we could, and
punched and pummelled and rolled them in the snow to our hearts'
content.
Jem never was much of a talker, and I never knew him speak when he was
fighting; but three several times on this occasion, I heard him say very
stiffly and distinctly (he was on the top of Tim Binder), "I'll fettle
thee! I'll fettle thee! I'll fettle thee!"
The battle was over, the victory was ours, but the campaign was not
ended, and thenceforward the disadvantages would be for us. Even real
warfare is complicated when men fight with men less civilized than
themselves; and we had
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