Richard, though his nose was bleeding, and he could not see out of one eye, seated himself on the ground for a moment, till he had recovered his breath, and then took his place in the ring.
"Time!" cried the friends of Richard.
But Nevers could not "come to time." He raised himself partly up, but sank back again, incapable of making the effort to rise.
"Come on!" said Richard, as he sparred a little with his fists to assure the spectators that he was "game" to the last.
Nevers made no reply, and Richard was declared the victor by his own friends, and the proposition was admitted by those of his prostrate antagonist.
"I am satisfied," added Richard, as he picked up his clothes, and made his way down to the brook, attended by an admiring crowd.
When Nevers recovered his breath, he rose from the ground, and his companions helped him down to the water, where he was bathed by his sympathizing friends. Both of the combatants were severely though not seriously injured.
"What's to be done now, fellows?" asked Richard, when all that cold water could do for him had been done. "I suppose we are all in a bad scrape."
"That's so," replied several. "We will stand by you, Grant, as well as we can."
"I am not exactly in condition to appear at dress parade," added Richard, turning his head round, so as to bring his available eye to bear upon his companions.