Little Men: Life at Plumfield With Jo’s Boys by Louisa May Alcott

in boxing, which quite satisfied the ardor of most of them. Emil,

however, could not submit to be beaten by a fellow younger than

himself, for Emil was past fourteen and a plucky fellow, so he

challenged Dan to a fight. Dan accepted at once, and the others

looked on with intense interest.

What little bird carried the news to head-quarters no one ever

knew, but, in the very hottest of the fray, when Dan and Emil were

fighting like a pair of young bulldogs, and the others with fierce,

excited faces were cheering them on, Mr. Bhaer walked into the

ring, plucked the combatants apart with a strong hand, and said, in

the voice they seldom heard,

“I can’t allow this, boys! Stop it at once; and never let me see it

again. I keep a school for boys, not for wild beasts. Look at each

other and be ashamed of yourselves.”

“You let me go, and I’ll knock him down again,” shouted Dan,

sparring away in spite of the grip on his collar.

“Come on, come on, I ain’t thrashed yet!” cried Emil, who had

been down five times, but did not know when he was beaten.

“They are playing be gladdy what-you-call-’ems, like the Romans,

Uncle Fritz,” called out Demi, whose eyes were bigger than ever

with the excitement of this new pastime.

“They were a fine set of brutes; but we have learned something

since then, I hope, and I cannot have you make my barn a

Colosseum. Who proposed this?” asked Mr. Bhaer.

“Dan,” answered several voices.

“Don’t you know that it is forbidden?”

“Yes,” growled Dan, sullenly.

“Then why break the rule?”

“They’ll all be molly-coddles, if they don’t know how to fight.”

“Have you found Emil a molly-coddle? He doesn’t look much like

one,” and Mr. Bhaer brought the two face to face. Dan had a black

eye, and his jacket was torn to rags, but Emil’s face was covered

with blood from a cut lip and a bruised nose, while a bump on his

forehead was already as purple as a plum. In spite of his wounds

however, he still glared upon his foe, and evidently panted to

renew the fight.

“He’d make a first-rater if he was taught,” said Dan, unable to

withhold the praise from the boy who made it necessary for him to

do his best.

“He’ll be taught to fence and box by and by, and till then I think he

will do very well without any lessons in mauling. Go and wash

your faces; and remember, Dan, if you break any more of the rules

again, you will be sent away. That was the bargain; do your part

and we will do ours.”

The lads went off, and after a few more words to the spectators,

Mr. Bhaer followed to bind up the wounds of the young gladiators.

Emil went to bed sick, and Dan was an unpleasant spectacle for a

week.

But the lawless lad had no thought of obeying, and soon

transgressed again.

One Saturday afternoon as a party of the boys went out to play,

Tommy said,

“Let’s go down to the river, and cut a lot of new fish-poles.”

“Take Toby to drag them back, and one of us can ride him down,”

proposed Stuffy, who hated to walk.

“That means you, I suppose; well, hurry up, lazy-bones,” said Dan.

Away they went, and having got the poles were about to go home,

when Demi unluckily said to Tommy, who was on Toby with a

long rod in his hand,

“You look like the picture of the man in the bull-fight, only you

haven’t got a red cloth, or pretty clothes on.”

“I’d like to see one; there’s old Buttercup in the big meadow, ride at

her, Tom, and see her run,” proposed Dan, bent on mischief.

“No, you mustn’t,” began Demi, who was learning to distrust Dan’s

propositions.

“Why not, little fuss-button?” demanded Dan.

“I don’t think Uncle Fritz would like it.”

“Did he ever say we must not have a bull-fight?”

“No, I don’t think he ever did,” admitted Demi.

“Then hold your tongue. Drive on, Tom, and here’s a red rag to