king into Biggs's face, as much as to say, "I've
gone and done it;" and he added to the brother, "Scud away, you little
thief; I've saved you this time."

"Stop, young Biggs!" roared out his brother after a pause; "or I'll
break every bone in your infernal scoundrelly skin!"

Young Biggs looked at Berry, then at his brother, then came at his
brother's order, as if back to be beaten again; but lost heart, and ran
away as fast as his little legs could carry him.

"I'll do for him another time," said Biggs. "Here, under-boy, take my
coat;" and we all began to gather round and formed a ring.

"We had better wait till after school, Biggs," cried Berry, quite cool,
but looking a little pale. "There are only five minutes now, and it will
take you more than that to thrash me."

Biggs upon this committed a great error; for he struck Berry slightly
across the face with the back of his hand, saying, "You are in a funk."
But this was a feeling which Frank Berry did not in the least entertain;
for, in reply to Biggs's back-hander, and as quick as thought, and with
all his might and main--pong! he delivered a blow upon old Biggs's nose
that made the claret spirt, and sent the second cock down to the ground
as if he had been shot.

He was up again, however, in a minute, his face white and gashed with
blood, his eyes glaring, a ghastly spectacle; and Berry, meanwhile,
had taken his coat off, and by this time there were gathered in the
cloisters, on all the windows, and upon each other's shoulders, one
hundred and twenty young gentlemen at the very least, for the news had
gone out through the playground of "a fight between Berry and Biggs."

But Berry was quite right in his remark about the propriety of deferring
the business, for at this minute Mr. Chip, the second master, came down
the cloisters going into school, and grinned in his queer way as he saw
the state of Biggs's face. "Holloa, Mr. Biggs," said he, "I suppose you
have run against a finger-post." That was the regular joke with us at
school, and you may be sure we all laughed heartily: as we always did
when Mr. Chip made a joke, or anything like a joke. "You had better go
to the pump, sir, and get yourself washed, and not let Doctor Buckle see
you in that condition." So saying, Mr. Chip disappeared to his duties in
the under-school, whither all we little boys followed him.

It was Wednesday, a half-holiday, as everybody knows, and boiled-beef
day at Slaughter House. I