One of the rams was old, and one was young; some of the shepherds
said that the old one was more wary and more experienced, and would
have the advantage; in strength and height they were nearly equal,
but the old one had been in such duels before and the young one
never. The young one thought he had but to rush in, head downward, to
conquer; the old one knew that this was not enough to secure victory.
The young one was blind with ardour and impatience for the fray; the
old one was cool and shrewd and could parry and wait.

After three rounds, the two combatants met in a final shock; the
elder ram butted furiously, the younger staggered and failed to
return the blow, his frontal bone was split, and he fell to the
ground; the elder struck him once, twice, thrice, amidst the
uproarious applause of his backers; a stream of blood poured from his
skull, which was pounded to splinters; a terrible convulsion shook
his body and his limbs; he stretched his tongue out as if he tried to
lap water; the men who had their money on him cursed him with every
curse they knew; they did not cut his throat, for they knew he was as
good as dead.

"This is a vile thing you have done," said a little beggar girl who
had been passing, and had been arrested by the horrible fascination
of the combat, and forced against her will to stand and watch its
issue. The shepherds jeered; those who had backed the victor were
sponging his wounds beside a runlet of water which was close at hand;
those who had lost were flinging stones on the vanquished. The girl
knelt down by the dying ram to save him from the shower of stones;
she lifted his head gently upward, and tried to pour water through
his jaws from a little wooden cup which she had on her, and which she
had filled at the river. But he could not swallow; his beautiful