The other boys, too, were just as disgusted at the turn events had taken, for they had looked for rare sport in seeing me mauled by their champion. They also now went off in a body, leaving my protector and myself alone together, close to the steps where the little fracas had occurred.
“You are a plucky fellow,” said my new friend, confidentially, as soon as the rest were out of hearing. “I don’t think Master Slodgers has had such a prompt lesson before to correct that nasty way he has of frightening every new boy that comes here; but I tell you what, though, you mustn’t go hitting out at big chaps like that, you know! Slodgers would have pounded you into a jelly if I hadn’t interfered.”
“I dare say he would,” I replied, passionately, not having yet quite calmed down—the sight of the blood dropping from my poor nose adding to instead of abating from my courage. “But, I would have made him feel something first! I don’t care if he had killed me! I would do the same again if he made fun of my father. He said I told lies when I was telling the truth.”
“Well, well, that’s all right,” said my rescuer, soothingly. “I’ve no doubt I should have struck him, too, if I had been in your place. I like you for standing up to him so bravely, and that’s the reason I took your part, independently of my always trying to stop his bullying. Slodgers is a cur at heart, and I dare say you would lick him in the end if you could hold out long enough, although I wouldn’t advise you to tackle him until you know how to use your fists better, if I am not by! I think you said your name was Martin Leigh, to change the subject from the brute, eh?”
“Yes,” I answered, readily; “and I must now thank you for your kindness in coming to my help.”
“Oh, stow all that! May I call you Martin?”
“By all means,” said I, gladly; “there’s nothing I should like better.”
“All right then, that’s agreed. My name is Tom Larkyns, and you may call me Tom, if you like.”
“May I?” I asked, deferentially, proud of his condescending to be on such cordial terms with me. “Won’t it sound too familiar?”
“Nonsense,” said he, laughing cheerily. “We’ll swear a bond of eternal friendship, like Damon and Pythias,” and he squeezed my hand in his strong grip, as if he meant it.