"Spirit them up with gin."
But the two umpires and the two seconds adhered to the rule. Yet it was exceedingly cold.
First blood was claimed.
They were again set face to face.
They looked at each other, approached, stretched their arms, touched each other's fists, and then drew back.
All at once, Helmsgail, the little man, sprang forward. The real fight had begun.
Phelem-ghe-Madone was struck in the face, between the eyes. His whole face streamed with blood. The crowd cried,—
"Helmsgail has tapped his claret!"
There was applause. Phelem-ghe-Madone, turning his arms like the sails of a windmill, struck out at random.
The Honourable Peregrine Bertie said, "Blinded;" but he was not blind yet.