by the feathers, as men by the hair. Lord David, therefore, made his

cock as bald as possible. With a pair of scissors he cut off all the

feathers from the tail and from the head to the shoulders, and all those

on the neck. So much less for the enemy's beak, he used to say. Then he

extended the cock's wings, and cut each feather, one after another, to a

point, and thus the wings were furnished with darts. So much for the

enemy's eyes, he would say. Then he scraped its claws with a penknife,

sharpened its nails, fitted it with spurs of sharp steel, spat on its

head, spat on its neck, anointed it with spittle, as they used to rub

oil over athletes; then set it down in the pit, a redoubtable champion,

exclaiming, "That's how to make a cock an eagle, and a bird of the

poultry yard a bird of the mountain."

Lord David attended prize-fights, and was their living law. On occasions

of great performances it was he who had the stakes driven in and ropes

stretched, and who fixed the number of feet for the ring. When he was a

second, he followed his man step by step, a bottle in one hand, a sponge

in the other, crying out to him to hit hard, suggesting stratagems,

advising him as he fought, wiping away the blood, raising him when

overthrown, placing him on his knee, putting the mouth of the bottle

between his teeth, and from his own mouth, filled with water, blowing a

fine rain into his eyes and ears--a thing which reanimates even a dying

man. If he was referee, he saw that there was no foul play, prevented

any one, whosoever he might be, from assisting the combatants, excepting

the seconds, declare the man beaten who did not fairly face his

opponent, watched that the time between the rounds did not exceed half a

minute, prevented butting, and declared whoever resorted to it beaten,

320

The Man Who Laughs