"Wilt fight," he roared, "and I'll show 'ee a donkey's heels." Dick, before the masters, tried the best English he could use, for he had tasted the scorn of Sherwood often, but in a rage, and before the lads, the dialect was good enough for him. Now, I suppose he meant that he would make Ande feel the weight of his shoes, but that worthy responded in sarcastic vein.
"No need to fight for that, for I see them already," and he gazed contemplatively at Dick's large feet.
Even the duller ones could not refrain from a grin of delight, but they were determined to have Ande whipped, and so arrangements having been made, they wandered out some distance from the Bowling Green to secure a place. The news had been carried to the fourth form, and the whole form came as his supporters. Now, the fifth were certain of Dick's victory, for in size, age, and strength he seemed superior to Ande. The fourth were exceedingly anxious, while Ande himself had no doubts of the outcome. Dullhead, though heavier and larger than the redoubtable Bully Bob Sloan, had nothing but brute strength, and even Bully Bob would have made short work of him.
"Art ready?" said Dick, and an affirmative answer being given, "then come on," and with a bellow, Dick lowered his great head and charged like an enraged bull. His antagonist caught his head in a vice-like chancery grip, and hitting him a playful tap, released him with a spin that sent him some distance back. Dullhead shook his head, as if he wondered what had happened, and then again charged. This time Ande side-stepped, and tapping Dick with his right, and crooking his foot, sent him head over heels.
"Dost see the donkey's heels, lads?"
The fourth roared, and shouted their applause.
Then was Dick's blood at fever heat. He must get the desired underhold for a wrestle, of which he knew some tactics, and so again came the charge, which was met with no love-taps this time. A straight, hard, left-hander caught Dick full upon the nose, and then, crash, another upon the eye. Dick, dazed, still came on, for he was the soul of courage. This kind of fighting was new to him, however. To be hit again and again, without being able to get a grip on his foe, was maddening. Meantime, Ande's hands were playing a lively tattoo upon Dick's eyes, ears, and nose. At last, fairly unable to stand the punishment, Dick broke for his corner, but it was not in retreat; it was but to gain the impetus for a new rush, by which he sought to gain the desired grip for a throw. On he came, like a whirlwind, and then, no one knew how it happened, but there was a quick flash of an extended arm, and burly Dick went down as if he was shot, and laid motionless.
Some of the fifth rushed forward to assist Dick, but were withheld by the voice of his antagonist, who wished to know if any of the fifth desired to take up Dick's cause.