Then, as he stood rubbing his face—very little the worse
for the encounter—his anger all passed away, and the consequences of his act dawned upon him.
“Look here,” he said; “it was all your fault. Come to the water; that will soon stop bleeding.”
He held out his hand, as he bent over the fallen tyrant, meaning to help him to rise, when, quick as lightning, Edgar caught the hand proffered to him and carried it to his teeth.
Dexter uttered a cry of pain, and shook him off, sending him backwards now upon the grass, just as a shadow fell across the contending boys, and Sir James stood frowning there.