“Dirty brute!” said Philip. “I never saw such a coward in my life.”
I ought to have been on my guard and not have given them the opportunity which I did, for as I stooped down there, crouching on my heels, I placed a great temptation in Courtenay Dalton’s way. For as I stooped right down, scooping up the water with one hand to bathe my face, I suddenly felt a sharp thrust from a foot on my back, and before I could save myself I was head over heels in the deep water.
It was not so deep but that I got my footing directly, and seizing the post at the side tried to struggle out, when amidst shouts of laughter Philip cried:
“Give him another dowse. That’s the way to wash a pauper clean.”
I was half-blind with the water, as Courtenay thrust my hand from the post, and in I went again, to come up red hot instead of cold.
He thrust me in again and I went right under; but my rage was not quenched, and, taught by my experience, I made a rush as if to spring out on to the dipping-place but instead of doing so I caught at a branch of a willow by the side and sprang out.
“Shake yourself, dog!” cried Courtenay, roaring with laughter.
“Fetch him a towel,” cried Philip. “A towel for the clean pauper. Give him another ducking, Courtenay.”
He ran at me, but in those moments I had forgotten everything in my thirst to be revenged on my cowardly persecutors.
Philip only seemed to be something in my way as I made at his brother, and throwing out one fist, he went down amongst the willows, while the next minute I was striking at Courtenay with all my might.