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h sets of scores； the eight and the two feet； had been straightedged onto the linoleum with black paint。 As I squatted behind my back score； Tom asked me if I was ready； and I pointed to his father。
〃Get ready； then；〃 Tom said to the old man。
Milam was forced to hold the straining Little Joe under the body with both hands。 There weren't enough tail feathers for a good tail hold…and I watched Tom's lips。
〃Pit！〃
The fight was over。
The battle ended so quickly； all three of us were stunned。 I've seen hundreds of cockfights end in the first pitting； a great many of them in fewer than fifteen seconds。 But the fight between Icky and Little Joe didn't last two seconds。
I was aware that Little Joe's feet were rosined as well as Icky's。 Mr。 Peeples had coated them surreptitiously when he got the chicken from its coop run behind the barn。 So the only way I can account for the quick ending is by crediting Icky's superior speed and conditioning and my longtime practice of releasing him first。 The old man was hampered when the time came to let go； because of the manner in which he had to hold the Ace cock。
Tom's sharp order to pit was still echoing in the rafters of the barn when I released my Blue。 Icky； with his sticky feet firmly planted； didn't take the two or three customary steps forward like he usually did。 He flew straight into the air from a standing takeoff。 Old Man Peeples scarcely had time to pull his hands away from beneath Little Joe's body when Icky clipped twice and cut the veteran fighter down on its score。 It happened that fast。 Click！ Click！ One heel pierced Little Joe's head； and the other heel broke his neck。
As the three of us watched in silent stupefaction； Icky strutted proudly to the center of the pit； leaving white gummy footprints in his wake； and issued a deep…throated crow of victory。 The expressions on the faces of Milam Peeples & Son were truly delightful to see。 And then Tom Peeples's face changed from milky white to angry crimson。
〃You killed my Little Joe！〃 he shouted。
I was still squatting on my heels when he yelled； and I was totally unprepared for the enormous fist that appeared from nowhere and caught me on the temple。 I crashed sideways into the left pit wall and it was smashed flat under the weight of my body。 My eyes blurred with tears。 All I could see were dark red dots unevenly spaced and dancing upon a shimmering pink background。 I must have sensed the darker shadow of Tom's heavy work shoe hurtling toward my head。 I rolled over quickly； and his kick missed my head。 Two more twisting evasive turns； and I was in the empty horse stall next to the pit。 As I scrambled to my knees； my fingers touched the handle of a heavy grooming brush。 I regained my feet and swung it in an arcing loop from the floor。 Tom saw the edge of the weighted brush ascending； tried to halt his rushing lunge； and half turned away。 The brass…studded edge caught him on his blind side； on the bump behind his left ear。 As Tom fell； his arms held limply at his sides； the opposite wail of the pit collapsed under him。 He was out cold。
I could see all right now；。 but I kept a firm grip on the brush handle as I watched Milam Peeples to see what his reaction was going to be。 The old man shook his head sadly； and removed an old…fashioned snap…clasp pocketbook from his front pocket。
〃You didn't have no call to hit the boy that hard； Mr。 Mansfield；〃 he said。 〃Little Joe was Tom's pet。 He was bound to feel bad about losin' him so quick。〃
I tossed the brush back into the empty horse stall and rubbed my sore side。 My bruised ribs felt like they were on fire。 My head was still ringing； and I probed my throbbing temple gingerly with a forefinger。 There was a marble…sized knot beneath the skin； and it was swelling even more as I touched it。
〃Now； I'm a little short of a thousand dollars in cash； Mr。 Mansfield；〃 Milam Peeples said plaintively； standing on the other side of Tom's felled body； 〃but here's three hundred and fifty…two dollars in bills。 You're goin' to have to take the rest of the debt out in game fowl。 We'd best go on down to the runs and you can pick 'em out。 I figure six gamecocks'll make us even。〃
I didn't。 I counted the bills he handed me； shoved the wad into my hip pocket； and then held up ten fingers。
〃Most of these cocks are Law Grays； Mr。 Mansfield；〃 Peeples protested。 〃And three are purebred Palmetto Muffs。 You know yourself there ain't no better cocks than Palmetto Muffs！ Take a look first； and you'll see what they're worth。 I only got ten gamecocks altogether。〃 I followed the old man out of the barn。
Professional cockers frequently pay off their gambling debts with gamecocks instead of cash。 But this kind of payoff is normally agreed upon before a fight…not afterward。 I had no objection to taking gamecocks； instead of money； this late in the season。 Some hard…hitting replacements would be useful before we entered the Milledgevile Tourney； and I was on the high side of the hog when it came to settling up with Peeples。
On the way to the coop walks； Peeples stopped at the watering trough to light his pipe and to do some preliminary dickering。
〃Now you seen them three Grays I fit this afternoon； Mr。 Mansfield。 Aces every one。 You take them； and any five more of the lot and we'll be fair and square。 Countin' the cash I gave you already； you're gettin' the best end and you know it。〃
Giving Peeples more credit than he probably deserved； I figured his gamecocks were worth about fifty dollars a head。 According to my arithmetic I would be short about two hundred and fifty dollars if I only took eight cocks。 Even if I took all of them I would be one hundred and fifty dollars short of the thousand dollars he had bet me。 I shook my head with a positive…negative waggle。
Feet pounded on the hard'packed ground behind me。 I turned。 Less than twenty feet away Tom Peeples was charging toward me with a hatchet brandished in his upraised right hand。 His red face was contorted and his angry blue eye was focused on infinity。
Without taking time to think I jumped toward him instead of trying to dodge his rush； twisted my body to the left； and kicked hard at his right shinbone。 Tripped neatly； he sprawled headlong in the dirt。 The hatchet flew out of his hand and skittered for a dozen yards across the bare ground。 Before he could recover himself I had a handgrip in his thick hair and another hold on his leather belt。 With one jerk as far as my knees； followed by a short heave； Tom Peepies was in the water trough。 I shifted my left hand from his belt to his hair and held him beneath the water with both hands。 His legs thrashed the scummy water into green foaming milk； but he couldn't get his head up。 I watched the popping bubbles break at my wrists and held him under until his feet stopped churning。
〃You'd best not hold his head under too long； Mr。 Mansfield；〃 his father said anxiously。 〃He'll be drownded！〃
That was true enough。 I didn't want to drown the man。 I only wanted to cool him off so I could plete my business with Mr。 Peeples and get back to Cook's Hollow。 When I let go of Tom's head； he broke free to the surface； blubbering。