Mothering on Perilous

<h2><SPAN name="chapter12" id="chapter12"></SPAN><abbr title="Twelve">XII</abbr><br/> THE FIGHTINGEST BOY</h2> <h3>Tuesday Night.</h3> <p>Nucky ran in to-night from shinny, to have a "broke" ankle tied up, (it seems to me I am always tying up either "risings," "biles," sores or hurts) and said to me while I did it,</p> <p>"That 'ere little Jason is just a-chawing up and spitting out them little day-schools. This morning at recess I seed him whup out five-at-a-time. Yes, sir, five was on him, and by Ned if he didn't lay out the last one. He's the fightingest boy you got!"</p> <p>"I thought you were that," I said.</p> <p>"Dad burn ole Heck if ever I seed the day I could lay out five of my size at a time! Going to school there on Trigger, I have whupped out as many as three Cheever young uns at a time; but five! Gee! I wisht I knowed how he done it!"</p> <p>These accounts of Jason's prowess seem unbelievable; but from the mouths of many witnesses I gather that they must be true. I, too, wonder how he does it.</p> <h3>Wednesday.</h3> <p>Evidently Jason's success with the little primaries is going to his head, for to-day he attacked Hen Salyer, who is a head taller, and would have vanquished him had not Keats come to the rescue. As it was, he gave the Salyers a lively battle, and enormously increased their respect for him. My most vigorous applications of the rod appear powerless to curb this aggressiveness.</p> <h3>Thursday.</h3> <p>While we were out in force this afternoon, digging the ditch which is to drain our garden, Nucky spoke up, apropos of nothing,</p> <p>"'F I had a boy 't wouldn't fight, I'd tie him to a good sapling and fill him so full of bullets the buzzards wouldn't eat him!"</p> <p>Having observed anything but a lack of the "fighting edge" since my arrival on Perilous, I saw no point in this remark, and let it pass. Nucky spoke again, accusingly,</p> <p>"You got one," he said; "you got a boy 't won't fight!"</p> <p>"I?" I demanded in amazement.</p> <p>"Iry Atkins yander. Little Jason Wyatt's been a-picking on him for three days, and he's afeared to fight him back, by Ned!"</p> <p>"You're a liar, Trojan!" spoke up the "pure scholar," hotly; "I haint fit him because I'm a-minding her. She said for us not to fight him because he were so little. I can fight as good as you, dag gone you!"</p> <p>"Le's see you then, dad swinge you!"</p> <p>Iry rushed upon Nucky with murder in his eye, and it took Taulbee and me, aided by a hoe-handle, to separate them.</p> <p>Iry's conscientiousness is very gratifying. I wish that I could remove the interdict made at first for Jason's protection; but probably it had better remain now for Iry's.</p> <h3>Friday Night.</h3> <p>When Jason and Keats came up from the wash-house to-night in their fresh gowns, looking startlingly clean, (I let them bathe together because Keats is so kind-hearted, and carries the water from kettles to tubs for Jason, and even washes his back for him) I handed Keats a pair of scissors. "Do you mind cutting Jason's toe-nails?" I asked; "I notice that they are dreadfully long."</p> <p>To my utter confounding, Jason threw himself on the floor, kicking and beating it violently and letting out terrific yells.</p> <p>"Why, it won't hurt you, dear," I said, "or, if you fear Keats will, I will gladly do it myself."</p> <p>The howls and yells increased if possible.</p> <p>"He haint afeared of being hurt," said Keats; "he just don't aim to part with them toe-nails."</p> <p>"Why?" I inquired.</p> <p>"He needs 'em in his business. He fights with 'em. I found it out when him and Hen fit a-Tuesday. He tried it on me, the feisty little skunk! That's the way he lays out the day-schools five-at-a-time. He jobs out the eyes of two with his thumbs, and bites and butts another, and rakes the shins of two more with his toe-nails, and whups out five as easy as falling off a log!"</p> <p>"They certainly must come off then," I declared sternly. "You hold one leg, and Killis one, and Philip and Taulbee his arms and head, and I'll cut them off!"</p> <p>And thus surprised of his secret, and bound by the Philistines, my little Samson was shorn.</p> <h3>Saturday Afternoon.</h3> <p>Before breakfast I called Iry into my room. "How much muscle have you got?" I inquired.</p> <p>The "pure scholar" bared a small, skeleton arm, on which a creditable knot of muscle rose as he flexed it.</p> <p>"You are really a pretty good fighter, aren't you?" I asked.</p> <p>"Paw he'd knock me in the head if I weren't."</p> <p>"Very well. I told you once not to fight Jason Wyatt. I may have been wrong in doing so. Next time he picks on you, fight him back."</p> <p>Just before noon, Nucky ran into the cottage with bulging eyes. "That 'ere little Iry is a-giving Jason the best whupping down in the stable-lot ever you seed. Jason he got to feisting around him ag'in, and he just grabbed him unexpected, and laid him out, and now he's choking the life out of him!"</p> <div class="figcenter"><SPAN name="image12" id="image12"></SPAN> <SPAN href="images/image12.png"> <ANTIMG src="images/image12th.png" width-obs="184" height-obs="243" alt="Jason is on the ground with Iry above him. Jason's arms are held down by Iry's leg and arm. Iry's other arm is around Jason's neck. Three boys are observing the scene." title="'That 'ere little Iry is a-giving Jason the best whupping down in the stable-lot ever you seed.'" /></SPAN> <q class="caption">'That 'ere little Iry is a-giving Jason the best whupping down in the stable-lot ever you seed.'</q></div> <p>"Good!" I cried, hurrying back to see the combat. All the boys were miraculously gathered, and the wash-girls also looked on with delight. Jason tried all his tricks, but could not once free himself from the relentless grasp. Both arms were pinioned, one by a leg, one by an arm of Iry's, his head was held down by the dreadful hand at his throat; only his legs were free, and they alas, were useless,&mdash;his toes passed harmlessly over Iry's face and neck and ears!</p> <p>Not until he had held out to the verge of suffocation did the conquered conqueror at last gasp for mercy, and being let up, crawl off under the corncrib to sob out his rage and shame in peace.</p> <p>Doubtless this will do him much good.</p> <hr /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />