Shock started, and ran, darting among the bushes, while I sat down on a barrow-handle, feeling rather thick and dizzy.
“I was coming to stop it. Two to one’s too bad; but that ragged chap come out at young Phil, and my word, he did give it him well. Are you much hurt, my lad?”
“No, not much, Mr Bunce,” I said, staring at him in rather a confused way.
“Here, I’ll get some water,” he said; and he went and dipped a pailful. “Bathe your face in that.”
I did so, and felt clearer and refreshed directly.
“Go on,” he said; “keep it up. It will stop the bleeding. What! have you been in the pond?”
“Yes,” I said; “they’ve been pelting me this last half hour, and then they pushed me in.”
“The young rips!” cried Bunce. “Never mind. I’m as pleased as if some one had given me a sovereign.”
“Yes,” I said dismally; “and they’ll tell Sir Francis, and I shall have to go.”
“Not you,” said Bunce. “They’re awful curs, but they’re beaten, and they won’t tell.”