l desire in him to injure his adversary for him to feel any
compassion.

"Do you give in?" he shouted.

"Oh--oh--oh!" yelled Pete, in a hoarse, doleful mingling of cry and
word. "Yer've killed me! yer've killed me!"

"Dead people can't talk," cried Tom tauntingly. "Serve you right if I
had."

Probably this was a bit of hectoring, and not the real feeling,
consequent upon the great state of exaltation to which the fight had
raised him.

"Yer've killed me, yer great coward; yer've killed me!" wailed Pete
again, excitement having probably acted upon his eyes after the fashion
attributed to a horse's, which are said to magnify largely, and made Tom
seem unusually big.

"Coward, am I?" cried Tom, rising. "You get up, and I'll show you."

"Ow--ow--ow! Help! help!"

"Get up," said Tom, giving his adversary a thrust with his foot, and
another and another, feeling a kind of fierce satisfaction in so doing,
for every thrust brought forth a howl.

"Will you get up?" cried Tom.

"I carn't; yer've broke my ribs and killed me--yer coward."

It could not have been after all any magnification of Pete's eyes that
caused him to say this, for Tom now saw, that where the
malicious-looking orbs had been which looked at him so triumphantly a
short time before, there were two tight-looking slits, from which the
great tears were squeezing themselves out, as the humbled tyrant went on
blubbering like a boy of eight or nine.

Tom drew back from his adversary, for the war-fire which Pete had lit in
him was nearly burned out, and his regular nature was coming back to
smooth over the volcanic outburst which had transformed him for the time
being.

"Hope I don't look like that," was his first thought, as he gazed down
at Pete's face as if it were a newly-silvered mirror, and in it saw a
reflection of his own. But as he looked it was dimly, and he felt that
his eyes must be all swollen up, his lips cut against his teeth, his
cheeks puffy, and his nose--

"Ugh!" ejaculated Tom; "how disgusting!"

He put up his hands to his face as the above thought came into his head,
and then shuddered with dismay.

There was no mistake about it, for he knew that if anything he was in a
worse plight than the blubbering young ruffian before him. His hands,
too: not only were they sadly smeared and stained, but the skin was off
his knuckles, and now, as if all at once, he began to tingle, smart, and
ache all over, while a horrible feeling of