e not romantic, as a rule, dropped the
Fairies, and called it The Dell. As has been said, this spot was chosen
as the arena for the few fistic encounters which the annals of Weston
could enumerate, and a better place for the purpose there could hardly
be. There was plenty of room for a ring at the bottom, and the gently
sloping sides would accommodate a large number of spectators, all of
whom had a good sight of what was going on, while the whole party were
concealed from view.

At four o'clock on the Saturday afternoon this hollow was thickly
studded with Westonians, and all the best places taken. The masters
usually took advantage of the half-holiday to go out somewhere for the
afternoon, but still ordinary precautions to avoid observation had not
been neglected. The boys did not repair to the appointed spot in large
noisy bodies, but in small groups, quietly and unostentatiously. Some
of them took their bats and balls out, and began playing at cricket, and
then stole off to the rendezvous, which was close to them. Saurin was
first on the ground; he stood under the trees at the edge of the dell
with Edwards and Stubbs, who acted as his seconds, trying to laugh and
chat in an unconcerned manner, but he was pale, could hardly keep
himself still in one position, and frequently glanced stealthily in the
direction by which the other would come. Not to blink matters between
the reader and myself, he was in a funk. Not exactly a _blue_ funk, you
know, but still he did not half like it, and wished he was well out of
it.

Presently there was a murmur, and a movement, and Crawley, with Robarts
and Tom Buller on each side of him, and a knot of others following,
appeared. Without saying a word both boys went down the sides of the
dell to the circular space which had been carefully left for them at the
bottom, took off their jackets, waistcoats, and braces, and gave them to
their seconds, who folded them up and laid them aside, tied pocket-
handkerchiefs round their waists, turned up the bottoms of their
trousers, and stepped into the middle of the arena.

"Won't you offer to shake hands?" said Stubbs to Saurin. "I believe it
is usual on such occasions."

"Pooh!" replied Saurin, "that is in friendly encounters, to show there
is no malice. There is plenty of malice here, I can promise you." He
finished rolling up his shirt sleeves to the armpits as he spoke, and
walked to the middle of the ring, where Crawley confro