“Go on, then, and finish him off; I want my turn.” Then there was a burst of eager incitements, and, unable to defer the attack any longer, seeing, too, that Mercer did not mean to begin, Dicksee gave a final dance, which included a dodge to right and left, and then he rushed in at Mercer, who seemed just to shoot his left shoulder forward with his arm extended, when there was a dull sound, and Dicksee seated himself very suddenly on the floor.
“Hallo! slip?” cried Burr, helping him up,—rather a heavy job,—while a look of perfect astonishment was in the fat face.
“Yes—boards—awkward,” he babbled. “Ca–ca–can’t we go on the grass?”
“No, no. Go in again.”
“Eh?” said Dicksee, with his hand to his face.
“Well done, Tom!” I whispered; “that’s it.”
“It was right, wasn’t it?” he said.
There was no time for more. Incited, almost driven by his second, Dicksee came on again, aimed a blow or two wildly, and was sent down again by Mercer almost without an effort.
And now the wind of favour began to change, so that in the next round boys shouted encouragement to Mercer.
“Hold that row!” cried Burr savagely; “do you want the Doctor to hear? Now, Dicksee, give it him this time.”