the
slogger can catch his wind; which when he does he rushes with blind fury
at Tom, and being skillfully parried and avoided, over-reaches himself
and falls on his face, amid terrific cheers from the school-house boys.

"Double your two to one?" says Groove to Rattle, note-book in hand.

"Stop a bit," says the hero, looking uncomfortably at Williams, who is
puffing away on his second's knee, winded enough, but little the worse
in any other way.

After another round the slogger too seems to see that he can't go in and
win right off, and has met his match or thereabouts. So he too begins to
use his head and tries to make Tom lose patience and come in before his
time. And so the fight sways on, now one, and now the other, getting a
trifling pull.

Tom's face begins to look very one-sided--there are little queer bumps
on his forehead, and his mouth is bleeding; but East keeps the wet
sponge going so scientifically, that he comes up looking as fresh and
bright as ever. Williams is only slightly marked in the face, but by the
nervous movement of his elbows you can see that Tom's body blows are
telling. In fact, half the vice of the slogger's hitting is neutralized,
for he daren't lunge out freely for fear of exposing his sides. It is
too interesting by this time for much shouting, and the whole ring is
very quiet.

"All right, Tommy," whispers East; "hold on's the horse that's to win.
We've got the last. Keep your head, old boy."

But where is Arthur all this time? Words cannot paint the poor little
fellow's distress. He couldn't muster courage to come up to the ring,
but wandered up and down from the great fives'-court to the corner of
the chapel rails, now trying to make up his mind to throw himself
between them, and try to stop them; then thinking of running in and
telling Mary, the matron, who he knew would instantly report it to the
doctor. The stories he had heard of men being killed in prize-fights
rose up horribly before him.

Once only, when the shouts of "Well done, Brown!" "Huzza for the
school-house!" rose higher than ever, he ventured up to the ring,
thinking the victory was won. Catching sight of Tom's face in the state
I have described, all fear of consequences vanishing out of his mind, he
rushed straight off to the matron's room, beseeching her to get the
fight stopped, or he should die.

But it's time for us to get back to the close. What is this fierce
tumult and confusion? The ring is broken, an