"Up with your fists!" cried George, "and we will see which is the
better man!"

There was no time for explanations, though young Blackett opened his
mouth to speak. He had in truth but time to throw up his hands to ward
off George's vigorous blow, and the next moment the fight was in full
swing. Matthew was no coward, and once in for warm work, he played his
part manfully. At it the two boys went, each hitting hard, and both
coming in for a considerable share of pummelling. For a time none
heeded them, every man having enough to do in other quarters. But at
length they were surrounded by a small group of the Fairburn men who
had now driven off the enemy and remained masters of the field.

Once or twice, when the two stopped a moment to recover breath,
Matthew opened his mouth again to make an explanation, but as often
his pride held him back, and he said nothing. So the fight went on.

How long this fierce duel might have lasted it is hard to say. But
just as the boys were almost at the end of their strength there was an
effective interruption. It was time, for both combatants were heavily
punished. They had not been so ill-matched as one might at first sight
have suspected. George was the stronger and harder fellow, but Matthew
had the advantage in the matter of height, and more particularly in
length of arm, which enabled him to get in a blow when his opponent's
fell short; though the less robust of the two he had as much pluck as
pride, and would have fought on to the last gasp.

The sound of clattering hoofs was heard, and, from opposite quarters,
two horsemen dashed up. They were Mr. Blackett and the elder Fairburn.