Not that George himself gave any heed to all this. At the very first
he had dashed to the spot where Matthew Blackett was excitedly
shouting to the rioters.
"Coward!" cried Fairburn, "to set on your scoundrelly fellows--"
"Set on the fellows!" Matthew began in amazement, but he got no
farther.
"Up with your fists!" cried George, "and we will see which is the
better man!"
There was no time for explanations, though young Blackett opened his
mouth to speak. He had in truth but time to throw up his hands to ward
off George's vigorous blow, and the next moment the fight was in full
swing. Matthew was no coward, and once in for warm work, he played his
part manfully. At it the two boys went, each hitting hard, and both
coming in for a considerable share of pummelling. For a time none
heeded them, every man having enough to do in other quarters. But at
length they were surrounded by a small group of the Fairburn men who
had now driven off the enemy and remained masters of the field.
Once or twice, when the two stopped a moment to recover breath,
Matthew opened his mouth again to make an explanation, but as often
his pride held him back, and he said nothing. So the fight went on.
How long this fierce duel might have lasted it is hard to say.
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