Mercer flew at him and struck with all his might.
“Better,” said Lomax; “that might have killed a blue-bottle. But it is just as I thought; you’re both wrong.”
“Wrong?” we echoed.
“Of course you are. So those two gave you both a good thrashing, eh?”
“Yes,” I said bitterly.
“Of course they would if you behaved like that. What are those hanging down by your sides?”
“Arms,” I said wonderingly.
“Then why do you treat ’em as if they were wind-mill sails, and swing ’em round that fashion?”
“Then you ought to hit straight out,” I said, “and not swing your arms round?”
“Of course,” said our instructor; “but that isn’t all. You both hit at me with your right glove.”