"Take it easy, take it easy—keep away, let him come after you," implores East, as he wipes Tom's face after the first round with a wet sponge, while he sits back on Martin's knee, supported by the Madman's long arms, which tremble a little from excitement.
"Time's up," calls the time-keeper.
"There he goes again, hang it all!" growled East, as his man is at it again as hard as ever. A very severe round follows, in which Tom gets out and out the worst of it, and is at last hit clean off his legs, and deposited on the grass by a right-hander from the Slogger.
Loud shouts rise from the boys of Slogger's house and the School-house are silent and vicious, ready to pick quarrels anywhere.
"Two to one in half-crowns on the big un," says Rattle, one of the amateurs, a tall fellow, in thunder-and-lightning[27] waistcoat, and puffy, good-natured face.
"Done!" says Groove, another amateur of quieter look, taking out his note-book to enter it, for our friend Rattle sometimes forgets these little things.
HEAD FIGHTING.
Meantime East is freshening up Tom with the sponges for next round, and has set two other boys to rub his hands.
"Tom, old boy," whispers he, "this may be fun for you, but it's death to me. He'll hit all the fight out of you in another five minutes, and then I shall go and drown myself in the Island ditch. Feint[28] him—use your legs! draw him about! he'll lose his wind then in no time, and you can go into him. Hit at his body too; take care of his frontispiece[29] by and by."