"It's quite easy! Let's first stretch him out on the wall...."
Philip ran to the foot of Mr. Mathers' desk. His desperate eye had caught sight of a large earthenware bottle of ink. He lifted it and with twitching lips he whispered, "Touch me, that's all!"
"You little squib!" said Higson, swaggering forward nonchalantly. He looked round to his friends.
"Just give me a hand, you fellows!"
"This is your job, Turnips! You bring him to the wall! We'll do the rest!"
"Just you touch me, that's all!" Philip said wildly, his whole body tense against the desk.
"And what will you do?"
"I'll throw this in your face! You'll see!"
"Go it, Turnips!" the retinue encouraged. "He's littler than you!"
Higson looked round with a growing expression of despair. It was impossible to withdraw. He moved towards Philip. Philip's arm shot forward. "Oogh—oogh—oogh!" A great volume of muddy ink was streaming down Higson's face and over his light green suit. "Oh, you bloody little devil! Oh, by Christ, I'll show you!"