Altogether, he was out of sorts, and had walked down to the sea with a vague hope that something might turn up to amuse him. He stood for some little time watching James sail the boat, and then strode down to the edge of the pool. The boat was a model of a smack, with brown sails. James had taken a good deal of pains with it, and it was an excellent model.
Presently, in crossing, she stuck in a shallow some twelve feet from the edge. The intervening stretch of water was a foot deep.
James picked up some small stones and threw them close to her, that the tiny wave they made might float her off. He tried several times without success.
“What’s the use of such little stones as that?” Richard said roughly. “You will never get her off like that;” and picking up one as large as his fist, he threw it with some force.
It struck the mast, and broke it asunder, and knocked the boat on to her side. James Walsham uttered an angry exclamation.
“You are a bad boy,” Aggie said passionately. “You are a bad boy to break my boat;” and she burst into tears.
“I didn’t mean to do it, you little fool!” Richard said angrily, vexed more at his own clumsiness than at the damage it had caused. “What are you making such a beastly noise about?” and he gave her a push.
It was not a hard one, but the ground was slippery, and the child’s foot slipped, and she fell at the edge of the pool, her dress going partly into the water. At the same instant, Richard reeled, and almost fell beside her, from a heavy blow between the eyes from James’s fist.
“You insolent blackguard!” he exclaimed furiously, “I will pay you for this;” and he rushed at James.
The combat was not a long one. Hard work at rowing and sailing had strengthened Jim Walsham’s muscles, and more than balanced the advantage in height and age of his adversary. He had had, too, more than one fight in his time, and after the first sudden burst of passion, caused by the overthrow of Aggie, he fought coolly and steadily, while Richard rained his blows wildly, without attempting to guard his face.
The child, on regaining her feet, ran crying loudly towards the beach, making for two fishermen who were engaged in mending a net some distance away; but before she could reach them to beg for aid for her champion, the fight was over, terminating by a heavy right-handed hit from James, which landed Richard Horton on his back in the pool.
James stood quietly awaiting a renewal of the conflict when he arose, but Richard had had enough of it. One of his eyes was already puffed and red, his nose bleeding, and his lip cut. His clothes were soaked from head to foot, and smeared with the red mud.
“I will pay you out for this, you see if I don’t,” Richard gasped hoarsely.
“What! have you had enough of it?” James said scornfully. “I thought you weren’t any good. A fellow who would bully a little girl is sure to be a coward.”