Now, young Brooke, you're in the sixth you know, and you ought to stop all fights. He looks hard at both boys. "Anything wrong?" says he to East, nodding at Tom.
"Not a bit."
"Not beat at all?"
"Bless you, no! heaps of fight in him. Isn't there, Tom?"
Tom looked at Brooke and grins. "How's he?" nodding at Williams.
"So so; rather done, I think, since, his last fall. He won't stand above two more."
THE LAST ROUND.
"Time's up!" The boys rise again, and face one another. Brooke can't find it in his heart to stop them just yet; so the round goes on, the Slogger waiting for Tom, and reserving all his strength to hit him out should he come in for the wrestling dodge again; for he feels that that must be stopped, or his sponge[39] will soon go up in the air.
And now another new-comer appears on the field, to wit, the under-porter, with his long brush and great wooden receptacle for dust under his arm. He has been sweeping out the schools.