John was not long left alone in his innocent amusement, for in a few moments James Blount came running down from the house towards him.  As he approached, John’s face darkened; he caught up the squirrel, and made an endeavor to hide it under his jacket.

“No, you don’t!” said James, as he came up, breathless.  “I see you have got him, plain enough; he sha’n’t get away this time,—­so you might as well give him to me.”

“No, I won’t!” replied John, sullenly.

“You won’t?”

“No!” said John, more fiercely, and then burst out, passionately,—­“I don’t see why you want to tease me about it; he a’n’t your pet; I have found him and tamed him; he knows me and loves me, and he don’t care for you; besides, you only want him to torment him.  No! you sha’n’t have him!”

“Sha’n’t I? we’ll see!” And James made a step forward.

John drew back several paces, at the same time trying to soothe the squirrel, which was becoming impatient of its confinement.  His face quivered with excitement, as he went on, passionately,—­

“I know what you want him for:  you want him to hurt some way.  You wrung my black kitten’s neck, and now you want to kill my squirrel.  You are a bad, wicked boy, and I hate you!”

With the last words he started to run; but he had not gone far when his foot struck a stone, and he fell.  At this, the squirrel, terrified, jumped from his arms; but James was close by, and before it could escape, he had caught it.  John was up in an instant, and James, seeing that he could not avoid him, gave the poor little creature’s neck a sudden twist and flung it gasping at his brother’s feet, exclaiming,—­

“There, now, you may have it!”

For one moment John stood still, white with rage and grief; then he uttered a sort of choking howl, and sprang at James,—­

“You cruel coward!”

The words were accompanied with a half-articulate curse, as he struck at him, blindly, fiercely, and they closed in what seemed a deadly struggle.  John, being the younger, had a slight disadvantage in size and weight, but wrath gave him more than his usual strength; while James fought desperately, as if for life.  After a few moments they rolled on the ground together.

It was a fearful sight, those two brothers, boys though they were, fighting in that mad way.  Their faces, so much alike that they seemed almost reflections of each other, were crimson with anger; their eyes shot fire; their breath came in sobbing pants; and very soon blood was drawn on both.  After a brief contest, John, with a tremendous effort, threw James under him.  With one hand he pinioned his arms, while the other was at his throat, where it closed with a deadly gripe.  James made one last effort to save himself; with a violent wrench he succeeded in fixing his teeth in his brother’s arm, but he failed in making him relax his hold, though they met in the firm flesh.  John’s brow grew darker, but he only tightened his clasp closer and closer, muttering,—­