Through by Daylight by Oliver Optic

Under the influence of the better thoughts which my good mother had suggested to me, I was willing to do better deeds. I was ready to apologize; I had done so, but I could not go down upon my knees before such a fellow as Waddie Wimpleton, or any fellow, for that matter. It was hard enough for me to say I was sorry; and I had done so for my mother's sake, rather than my own.

"I don't think you are very sorry for what you said," sneered Waddie.

"I am sorry enough to apologize. I really regret that I made use of any hard expressions," I replied.

"Then get down on your knees, and beg my pardon, as I tell you," persisted Waddie, flourishing his stick. "If you do, I'll let you off on part of the punishment."

"I apologized because I had done wrong, and not because I was afraid of the punishment," I added, still schooling my tongue to gentle speech.

"Humph! " exclaimed the scion; and my remark was based on a philosophy so subtle that he could not comprehend it.

"Go in! Go in! Give it to him! " shouted the supporting ruffians. "He's fooling you, Waddie."

"If you are not going to do what I tell you, look out for the consequences," blustered the young gentleman, who still seemed to have some doubts in regard to the prudence of his present conduct.

"Waddie Wimpleton," said I.

"Well, what do you want now? " demanded he, dropping his weapon again.

"If you strike me with that stick, you must look out for consequences. I shall defend myself as well as I know how."

Waddie glanced at his companions.

"Hit him! What are you waiting for? " cried his friends; and I have always observed, in such cases, that it is easier to give advice than to strike the blow.

Mr. Waddie had placed himself in a position which he could not well evacuate. He evidently had no heart for the encounter which he foresaw must take place if he struck me, and perhaps he had not entire confidence in the character of the support which he was to receive. At any rate he could not help realizing that the first blows of the battle were likely to be dealt upon his own head.

"You called me a liar," said he, working up his courage again by a new recital of his wrongs.

"I did, and apologized for it," I replied.

"Go down on your knees, then, and say you are sorry."

"I will not."

"Then mind your eye," continued Waddie, as with a sudden spring he hit me on the arm, which I had raised to ward off the blow.

I did mind my eye, and I minded his, too; for, before he could bring up his supports, I leaped upon him. Though he was of my own size and age, he was only a baby in my hands. I grasped his stick, wrenched and twisted it a few times, and then threw him over backwards into a pool of soft mud, which I had chosen to flank my position and save me from an attack in the rear. He was half buried in the soft compound of black mud and decayed leaves which filled the hole, and his good clothes suffered severely from the effects of his disaster.