Fighting was carried on still more vigorously in the high school than in the common school.  Whenever any one was challenged, either the challenge was allowed or it was decided by a battle on the seashore, where with stubborn enthusiasm we battered each other as if we had not been sufficiently battered by the teacher.  When we were so fortunate as to finish a fight without getting a black eye, we usually escaped a thrashing at home and another next morning at school, for other traces of the fray could be easily washed off at a well on the church brae, or concealed, or passed as results of playground accidents; but a black eye could never be explained away from downright fighting.  A good double thrashing was the inevitable penalty, but all without avail; fighting went on without the slightest abatement, like natural storms; for no punishment less than death could quench the ancient inherited belligerence burning in our pagan blood.  Nor could we be made to believe it was fair that father and teacher should thrash us so industriously for our good, while begrudging us the pleasure of thrashing each other for our good.  All these various thrashings, however, were admirably influential in developing not only memory but fortitude as well.  For if we did not endure our school punishments and fighting pains without flinching and making faces, we were mocked on the playground, and public opinion on a Scotch playground was a powerful agent in controlling behavior; therefore we at length managed to keep our features in smooth repose while enduring pain that would try anybody but an American Indian.  Far from feeling that we were called on to endure too much pain, one of our playground games was thrashing each other with whips about two feet long made from the tough, wiry stems of a species of polygonum fastened together in a stiff, firm braid.  One of us handing two of these whips to a companion to take his choice, we stood up close together and thrashed each other on the legs until one succumbed to the intolerable pain and thus lost the game.  Nearly all of our playground games were strenuous,—­shin-battering shinny, wrestling, prisoners’ base, and dogs and hares,—­all augmenting in no slight degree our lessons in fortitude.  Moreover, we regarded our punishments and pains of every sort as training for war, since we were all going to be soldiers.  Besides single combats we sometimes assembled on Saturdays to meet the scholars of another school, and very little was required for the growth of strained relations, and war.  The immediate cause might be nothing more than a saucy stare.  Perhaps the scholar stared at would insolently inquire, “What are ye glowerin’ at, Bob?” Bob would reply, “I’ll look where I hae a mind and hinder me if ye daur.”  “Weel, Bob,” the outraged stared-at scholar would reply, “I’ll soon let ye see whether I daur or no!” and give Bob a blow on the face.  This opened the battle, and every good scholar belonging to either school was drawn into it.  After both sides were sore and weary, a strong-lunged warrior would be heard above the din of battle shouting, “I’ll tell ye what we’ll dae wi’ ye.  If ye’ll let us alane we’ll let ye alane!” and the school war ended as most wars between nations do; and some of them begin in much the same way.