ng 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.

[39] #Sponge#: in a pugilistic encounter the sponge is thrown
up as an acknowledgment of defeat.

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.

"You'd better stop, gentlemen," he says; "the Doctor knows that
Brown's fighting--he'll be out in a minute."

"You go to Bath,[40] Bill," is all that that excellent servitor
gets by his advice. And being a man of his hands,[41] and a staunch
upholder of the School-house, can't help stopping to look on for a
bit, and see Tom Brown, their pet craftsman, fight a round.

[40] #Go to Bath#: shut up; mind your business.

[41] #Of his hands#: of sturdy make; able to use his fists.

It is grim earnest now, and no mistake. Both boys feel this, and
summon every power of head, hand, and eye to their aid. A piece of
luck on either side, a foot slipping, a blow getting well home, or
another fall may decide it. Tom works slowly round for an opening; he
has all the legs and can choose his own time; the Slogger waits for
the attack, and hopes to finish it by some heavy right-handed blow. As
they quarter slowly over the ground, the evening sun comes out from
behind a cloud, and falls full on Williams's face. Tom darts in, the
heavy right-hand is delivered, but only grazes his head. A short rally
at close quarters, and they close; in another moment the Slogger is
thrown again heavily for the third time.

"I'll give you three to two on the little one in half-crowns," said
Groove to Rattle.

"No, thankee," answers the other, diving his hands further into his
coat-tails.

THE DOCTOR ARRIVES.

Just at this stage of the proceedings the door of the turret[42] which
leads to the Doctor's library suddenly opens, and h