But without further shocking or harassing the refined minds of my readers, suffice it to say that we were put through these tactics ultimately to the satisfaction of our accomplished instructor, and by the time we faced H—— in McMollon’s yard, we came up with an air of confidence which seemed to gladden the bandman’s heart.
H——, on being supported by McMollon, merely buttoned his blue jacket, but we, in obedience to Johnson’s request, took off ours and then tucked up our sleeves. We cut a poor figure, however, in a physical aspect, as opposed to our big antagonist, who smiled as if he could knock us to pieces, if he were so disposed.
“Faith, be jintle with them, Misther H——” said McMollon, when Johnson—unmindful of swagger—put us forward with calm assurance, and we lost no time in obeying his orders; perceiving that we stood well as to position, he cried out “Now lads,” when in I went, to the astonishment of H—— and his second, while my brother hit out well from the shoulder, as told to do at rehearsal.
“Follow up, Master Henry,” cried Johnson, “ding dong, go it, the pair of you.”
But, at this interesting moment, a manly figure came forward and, pushing our backer aside, he dealt us both two sharp cuts on the back with his walking-stick. It was my father!
“Disgraceful!” he exclaimed.
“How is this, Johnson, a pugilistic encounter?”
“The truth is, it is all about yourself, Captain.”
“Eh, what do you say, about me?”
“Well, the fact is, Master H——, yonder, insulted your good name, and the young gentlemen took it up.”