Dexter avoided the onslaught, and gave Bob another crack on the ear.
Then, trusting in his superior size and strength, Bob dashed at Dexter again, and for a full quarter of an hour there was a fierce up and down fight, which was exceedingly blackguardly and reprehensible no doubt, but under the circumstances perfectly natural.
Dexter got a good deal knocked about, especially whenever Bob closed with him; but he did not get knocked about for nothing. Very soon there were a number of unpleasant ruddy stains upon his clean white shirt, but the blood was Bob’s, and consequent upon a sensation of his nose being knocked all on one side.
There was a tooth out—a very white one on the grass, but that tooth was Bob’s, and, in addition, that young gentleman’s eyes wore the aspect of his having been interviewing a wasps’ nest, for they were rapidly closing up, and his whole face assuming the appearance of a very large and puffy unbaked bun.
Then there was a cessation of the up and down fighting; Bob was lying on his back howling after his customary canine fashion, and Dexter was standing over him with his doubled fists, his face flushed, his eyes flashing, teeth set, and his curly hair shining in the sun.
“It’s splendid, Dan’l, old man,” cried Peter, slapping his fellow-servant on the back. “I wouldn’t ha’ missed it for half a crown.”
“No,” said Dan’l. “Hang him! he’s got some pluck in him if he ain’t got no breed. Brayvo, young un! I never liked yer half—”
Dan’l stopped short, and Peter stepped back against the dividing fence.
“Beg pardon, sir?”
“I said how did that boy get across the river!” said the doctor sternly.