"Not exactly," he explained. "We're very good friends--in fact more than just common or garden friends--and I never thought of fighting you, regarding you as cock of the Lower School and not supposing the question would ever arise between us, as I shall probably leave Merivale before you get into the Upper School--if ever you do. Still, as you feel your honour makes you want to fight me, you must, of course."
"There's no casus belli otherwise," I said, and Sutherland answered that honour was the best casus belli possible. He said:
"Of course, if you honestly feel that I have wounded your honour, Rice, we must fight."
And I said:
"You haven't wounded it exactly. In fact I don't know what the dickens you have done. But you've done something, and though you're my chum and I hope you always will be for evermore, yet I don't believe I shall get over this feeling, or, in fact, be any more good in the world till we've fought."
"As a matter of fact," said Sutherland, "you've wounded your honour yourself, by thoughtlessly agreeing to my suggestion that you couldn't lick me. Still, whatever has done it, the result is the same, I'm afraid."
"I'm afraid it is," I said.
I suppose no two chaps ever arranged a thing of this sort in a more regretful frame of mind, for we had always been peculiarly friendly, and the idea of ever fighting had never occurred to us; but it was just that fatal remark of Sutherland, showing his point of view, and showing me, with only too dreadful clearness, his opinion of me as compared with him. And the queerest thing of all was that I quite agreed with him really, only there was a feeling in me I couldn't possibly let it go at that; and, of course, there was also a secret hope that, after all, Sutherland and I might both be mistaken about his being such a mighty lot better than I was.
So we agreed to fight on the following Saturday afternoon, as there was only a second eleven match on our own ground, and we should have leisure to go into the wood close by, where these affairs were settled.
Needless to say, the world at large was fearfully surprised when it heard we were going to fight. We still pottered about together in our usual friendly way, and when we were asked, as of course we were, what we were fighting for, it was more than I could do to explain, or Sutherland either. Travers major understood the truth of the situation, and I think Thwaites did, and possibly Preston; but to have tried to explain to anybody else the frightfully peculiar situation would have been impossible, for they hadn't the minds to understand it. So we just said in a general sort of way, we were still chums, but felt such a tremendous interest in the question of which was the greatest fighter, that we were going to find out in the most friendly spirit possible.