“I hit him once on the chin,” acknowledged Gerald with satisfaction, “but that’s about all. Then he hit me on the nose.”
“And that ended it?”
“Yes. I wanted to go on, but they wouldn’t let me. One of them gave me a handkerchief—I couldn’t find mine. It’s on the stand there. Then I came up here.”
“Did anyone see you?”
“I don’t think so. I didn’t meet anyone but a couple of fellows in front of Oxford. I don’t care if they did see me.”
“Well, it’s just as well that you didn’t run across any of the Faculty,” said Dan dryly. “Faculty doesn’t like scraps. How’s the nose feeling?”
“All right now; it’s just sore. It—it felt as though it was broken at first. Did you ever have a real fight with another fellow, Dan?”
“Oh, I’ve had two or three scrimmages,” replied Dan carelessly, “but not here. And I guess you’d better make up your mind to let this be your last one, Gerald.”
“I’m going to learn to box,” said Gerald determinedly. “And when I know how I’m going to lick Thompson.”
“Well,” answered Dan soothingly, “maybe you won’t want to by that time.”