I must do the fat fellow the credit of saying that he now came on fiercely, swinging his arms wildly, and striking out with all his might, but not one blow took effect, and I had the satisfaction of seeing the triumph of Lomax’s instructions, gaining confidence all the while, as Tom delivered a blow here and a blow there, and then one which sent his antagonist down to bump his head upon the boards.
There was quite a little burst of cheers now.
“Will you stop that row!” cried Burr fiercely. “Silence! You, Dicksee,” he whispered, as he helped his principal up, “if you don’t go in and lick him, I’ll lick you.”
“Tom,” I was whispering, “you’re sure to win.”
“Am I?” he said stolidly; “but I don’t like knocking him about—he can’t fight at all.”
“Serve him right; he’ll remember it in future. Now then. Ready!”
The pair were facing each other again, and the encounter which followed was a little longer, but it ended in Mercer giving his adversary a sharp blow on the cheek, and directly after another on the nose, and Dicksee again seemed to sit down suddenly as if to wipe it, a duty which had certainly become necessary.
“Silence!” cried Burr major, as a burst of cheers followed this last round, for it was seen that the fat lad did not intend to get up again. “Dicksee isn’t well to-day; I believe old Jollop has given him something.” Then in a whisper, as he half-dragged his principal back, “You beggar!” he said; “I’ll serve you out for this.”
“Hooray!” cried a small boy at the window; “old Senna has licked—”
“Will you mind and watch that window,” cried Burr. “It’s all right, boys; I shall have to dress Jollop down as soon as I’ve done the groom. Here, Hodson, you must second me.”