“Never mind. Don’t get excited over it. Be quite cool. Now then, he’s ready again.”
So was I, for there was a buzzing in my temples and a hot feeling in my throat as I once more stood up before my adversary, who was still smiling contemptuously as he began sparring and then dashed forward, but stopped suddenly, and stood back, shaking his head, while I tightened my hand and saw the blood start from one of my knuckles.
“Go on, Burr. Give it him. He’s nearly done. Go on, go on!” was chorused on all sides; and, looking very vicious now, Burr came at me with his fists wide apart, and then he rushed at me as if he meant mischief, but to his great surprise as much as to mine, he seemed to run his nose right on to my left fist, and dropped down on the floor.
He was up again, though, directly, amid a buzz of excitement, and I felt that now he was going to avenge himself thoroughly, but, as I struck out with my left exactly as Lomax had instructed me, somehow Burr major went down again.
It almost puzzled me. I could hardly believe it, but it was forced upon me, and the blows which I seemed to deliver at the right time in the most effortless of ways, had a terrible effect, my antagonist going down three times to my once.
And now some of the tide began to set in my direction—the tide of popularity. First of all, little Wilson took heart and gave me a cheer, then he began to grow excited, and to cry in an eager whisper,—
“Well done, Burr junior! Hooray! That’s it. Give it him. Hooray! down again.”
Burr major got up, looking fierce as well as confused, and sat panting on his second’s knee; and as I sat on mine, Tom Mercer gave me a hug.
“Splendid!” he whispered. “Hooray for old Lom! You’ll beat him if you keep quiet. You boys, hold that row.”
There was a hush directly, and we two faced each other once more.