It
was hard, under such disquieting circumstances, to hold a thought, and
Billy found himself struggling in mind for equilibrium while he stood
forward to the attack. He aimed a wild blow at his capering opponent,
and drove into soundless air only, and before he could recover himself
the capering opponent had "landed" on Billy's cheek in a most surprising
but altogether unrefreshing manner.
The concussion made the cheek the color of an old-fashioned peony, and
the jar caused the nose to bleed a little as the astonished Billy
staggered back under the impact of a clenched fist.
Then the real fight began, but Billy, though he made a strong effort to
rally, was beaten, and he knew, or thought he knew, why he was beaten.
"It was holding the thought that done it," he faltered, as he fell after
a quick stroke from Jim. He lay quiet on the grass, and his one wish was
to die. He fixed his mind resolutely upon this wish, but failed to die
at once; indeed he felt every moment the reviving forces of life
throbbing through his tough young body.
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