Jimmy took off his coat and gave it to Jones minimus, who danced for sheer delight.
Jimmy had only one regret: the butcher-boy was not there to see him—the butcher-boy who had expended so much time over him, had taught him the upper cut, the under cut, every cut that the heart of a butcher-boy delights in. The Biffer was very busy biffing the air with a rapid circular motion of the arms, for Jimmy's fixed scowl and set of jaw troubled him.
Oh, why wasn't the butcher-boy there to see that tremendous smack on the nose the Biffer got? He would have felt amply rewarded.
No one had ever seen Jimmy fight like this, and Jones minimus shouted in his joy, for the Biffer was outbiffed in every direction.
In vain did he cry "Pax," for Jimmy had not half relieved his feelings, and there was no end to the dodges the butcher-boy had taught him, each of which, he had said, meant sudden death.
"He's had enough, Jimmy," whispered Jones minimus. "I'm satisfied," he added as the Biffer, who was lying on the ground, refused to get up and have any more.
As the boys entered the class-room the next day there was the map of Europe still hanging up in front of the class, and the very first question that was asked by the master was, "Well, Jimmy, what is this sea?"
"The North Sea or British Ocean, Sir!" said Jimmy, a reply that was greeted with a rousing cheer by the whole of Form II.