Then, being set down again, the dying creatures would totter gropingly about, with dragging wings, find each other, strike a guesswork blow or two, and fall exhausted once more.
I did not see the end of the battle.

I forced myself to endure it as long as I could, but it was too pitiful a sight; so I made frank confession to that effect, and we retired.

We heard afterward that the black cock died in the ring, and fighting to the last.
Evidently there is abundant fascination about this 'sport' for such as have had a degree of familiarity with it.

I never saw people enjoy anything more than this gathering enjoyed this fight.

The case was the same with old gray-heads and with boys of ten.