Then we were facing each other again, with all pity and compunction gone, and, after receiving one or two blows, I forgot everything but the fact that there was something before me that I must hit, and hit it I did, my deliveries, as it happened, being quite in accordance with Lomax’s teaching, which somehow came natural to me; and then I found myself standing over Burr major who was seated on the floor, and with half a dozen boys all wanting to shake hands with me at once.
“Here, I say, Burr major,” cried one of his chief parasites, “ain’t you going to lick old Senna now?”
I felt sorry for him, for he looked around dazed and despairing, but my blood was up again directly, as I saw the miserable cur of a fellow who had spoken go closer, double his fist, and shake it so close to Burr major’s face that he tapped his nose.
“Serve you right!” he cried. “Always knocking other people about. How do you like it now?”
“You let him alone,” I cried hotly.
“I shan’t. Mind your own—”
“Business,” I suppose he meant to say, but my fists had grown so excited by the fight that one of them flew out, and sent the miserable cur staggering against Mercer’s chest.
Then I stood upon my guard, but the boy only held his hand to his face, while the others set up a cheer, and I turned to Burr major, who was still seated on the floor.
“I’m very sorry, Burr,” I said apologetically. “I didn’t want to knock you about so much. You’ll shake hands, won’t you?”
He looked up at me with rather an ugly expression upon his face, but he made no movement to take my hand, only turned away.