Walk Billcord was utterly astonished as well as effectually upset. Paul Bristol had always been meek and subservient in his dealings with the students, and no one could have suspected that there was anything like a claw in his hard paws. If Mr. Walker was astonished the first moment after his unexpected fall, he was indignant and boiling over with wrath the second.
Though it was probable that both of the young gentleman's eyes had been put into mourning for the coming week, he was not otherwise damaged, and he leaped to his feet as soon as he could realize what had happened. He saw that he had been struck down by one whom he had always regarded as a son of toil,—a sort of cur about the premises of the institute. His blood boiled, and, without a word of any kind, he proceeded to "pitch into" his late assailant with all the physical vigor he could bring to bear upon him.
Paul warded off the wild blows aimed at him, and soon planted one of his own on the end of the young gentleman's nose, which caused the blood to flow in a stream from that organ. But Walk did not mind this little incident, though Paul was rather startled to see what he had done. The latter was inclined to deal as gently as he could with his gentlemanly opponent; but he found it necessary to defend himself from the impetuous charges of Walk. In doing so he delivered a hard hit, which carried his foe to the ground again.
The young gentleman was not yet satisfied, though he realized that he was not a match for his toil-hardened opponent. He sprang to his feet once more, out of breath, but unwilling to yield a hair to such an assailant. Grasping the stick Lily had used to haul in the boat, he again rushed upon Paul, and aimed a blow at his head; but Paul retreated a few steps, and picked up the oar which had dropped on the beach.
Paul Bristol was entirely cool, now that his sister was no longer in peril, and he began to realize that a quarrel with the son of the proprietor of the domain was a very serious matter. With the oar he warded off the blows of his insane adversary, and this was all he wished to do. He could easily have "laid him out" again, but the fear of consequences kept him within bounds.
Walk exhausted himself to no purpose. He could not hit his opponent, and his strength and his wind were soon used up. He drew back a little, and fixed a savage gaze upon his stalwart enemy. He panted like a wild beast at bay, and his blood boiled all the more because he could accomplish nothing.
"I'll settle you yet, Paul Bristol!" exclaimed Walk as he stepped down to the edge of the water and began to wash the blood from his face.
"I'm settled now," replied Paul calmly. "I have had enough of it, and I should like to stop where we are."
"You won't stop where we are, not till I have beaten you to a jelly. I shall break every bone in your dirty carcass before I get through with you," gasped Walk, struggling for an even supply of breath.
"When I say I have got enough of it, that ought to end the affair," added Paul with a cheerful smile on his face.