And there took place a battle, a fight between the two parties. On the one side was the whole "_Cheder_," on the other Getzel. Ten is not one. It was true they felt what Getzel's fists tasted like. Bruises and marks around the eyes were the portion of the ten. But for that, again, they gave him a good taste of the world with their sharp nails and their teeth, and every other thing they could. From the front and from the back and from all sides, he got blows and kicks and pulls and thumps and bites and scratches. Well, ten is not one. They overcame him. Getzel had to get himself off, disappear. And now begins the real story of the nuts. * * * After he left the "_Cheder_," bruised and scratched and torn and bleeding, Getzel stood thinking for a while. He clapped his hands on his pockets, and there was heard the rattling of nuts. "You don't want to play nuts with me, then may the Angel of Death play with you. I want you for ten thousand sacrifices. I can manage. We two will play by ourselves." That was what Getzel said to himself. The next minute he was off like the wind. He stopped in the middle of the road to say aloud, as if there was some one with him: "Where to? Where, for instance, shall we go, Getzel?" And at once he answered himself: "There, far outside the town, on the other side of the mill. There we shall be alone, the two of us. No one will disturb us. Let any one attempt to disturb us, and we will break bones, and make an end." Talking with himself, Getzel felt that he was not alone. He was not one but two; and he felt as strong as two. Let the boys dare to come near him, and he would break them to atoms. He would reduce them to a dust-heap. He enjoyed listening to his own words, and did not stop talking to himself, as if he really had some one beside him. "Listen to me. How far are we going to go?" he asked himself. And he answered himself almost in a strange voice: "Well, it all depends on you." "Perhaps we ought to sit down here and play nuts. Well? What do you say, Getzel?" "It's all the same to me." Getzel sat down on the ground, far beyond the town, behind the mill, took out the nuts, counted them, divided them in two equal parts, put one lot in his right-hand pocket, and the other in his left. He took off his cap, and threw into it a few nuts from his right-hand pocket. He said to himself: "They imagine I can't get on without them. Listen, Getzel, what game are we playing?" "I don't know. Whatever game you like." "Then let us play 'odd or even.'" "I'm quite willing." He shook his cap. "Now, guess. Odd or even? Well, speak out," he said to himself. He dug his elbow into his own ribs, and said to himself: "Even." "Even did you say? Who'll thrash you? You have lost. Hand over three nuts." He took three nuts from his left-hand pocket, and put them into the right. Again he shook the cap, and again he asked: "Odd or even this time?" "Odd."