Part 34 (1/2)
”Hurray!” whispered Bolton, bending down and squeezing his hands between his knees; ”he'll lick him.”
”Eh? I thought he was your man.”
”A beast! He's always knocking us about,” whispered Bolton. ”Hurray!
go it, Belt.”
The adversaries were face to face again, and there was a breathless silence.
”Had enough?” panted Terry.
”No, not half,” cried Syd, rus.h.i.+ng at him.
”Look at that! See his teeth?” said Barney. ”That's British bull-dog, that is. Master Syd never fights till he's made, but when he does--My eye! that was a crack.”
But it was not Barney's eye. It was Terry's, and the blow was so sharp that the receiver went down into a corner, and refused to get up again, while the subjects of the fallen king crowded round the victor eager to shake hands.
”No, no,” panted Syd; ”don't: my knuckles are all bleeding. What's my face like?” he said sharply to Roylance.
”Knocked about; but never mind that, Belton; you've won.”
”I don't mind,” was the reply; ”and I don't want to win. Are you much hurt?” he continued, going to Terry's corner, where the vanquished hero was still seated upon the floor with little Jenkins, with much sympathy, offering to sponge his face.
”I'm sorry we fought,” said Syd, quietly. ”Shake hands.”
There was no reply.
”You're not hurt much, are you?”
Terry gave him one quick look, and then let his head down on his chest.
”You'll shake hands?” said Syd. ”We can be friends now.”
Still no notice.
”Shake hands, Mike Terry,” piped little Jenkins. ”You've licked everybody, and it was quite your turn.”
”Hold your tongue, you little wretch,” hissed the other. ”I owe you something for this.”
”Ha, ha, ha!” laughed the impish little fellow, beginning to caper about with the sponge. ”You touch me again and I'll get Belton to give you your gruel. You nasty great coward, you've got it at last.”
”Don't you be a coward,” said Syd, sharply. ”Now, Mr Terry, I'm very sorry: shake hands.”
”Here, one of you take that basin and sponge away from Jenks,” said Terry, getting up painfully. ”He wouldn't have done this if I hadn't hurt one of my arms.”
”Well, if I was licked fair like that, I would own to it,” said Bolton.
”It was fair, wasn't it, Roy?”
”As fair as a fight could be,” was the reply.