e continued to
think of licking Harberth--the "jolliest" thing he could conceive,
until his mind wandered home to Lucille, and he enhanced the imaginary
jollity by conceiving her present.... "Sturdy little brute," observed
a big Fifth Form boy seated with a couple of friends on the bench
beside him, "but I'd lay two to one in sovs. (if I had 'em) that he
doesn't last a single round with Harberth".

"Disgrace to Harberth if he doesn't eat the kid alive," responded the
other.

"Got a good jaw and mouth, though," said the third. "Going to die
hard, you'll see. Good little kid."

"Fancy funking a bottled frog or something and fighting a chap who can
give him about four years, four inches, and four stone," observed the
first speaker.

"Yes. Queer little beast. He knocked Harberth clean out, they say.
Perhaps his father has had him properly taught and he can really box.
Ever seen him play footer? Nippiest little devil _I_ ever saw. Staunch
too. Rum go," commented his friend.

Dam thought of Sergeant Havlan and his son, the punching-ball, and the
fighting days at Monksmead. Perhaps he could "really" box, after all.
Anyhow he knew enough to hit straight and put his weight into it, to
guard chin and mark, to use his feet, duck, dodge, and side step.
Suppose Harberth knew as much? Well--since he was far stronger,
taller, and heavier, the only hope of success lay in the fact that he
was connected with the Snake--from whom mere blows in the open would
be welcome.

Anyhow he would die or win.

The positive joy of fighting _It_ in the glorious day and open air,
instead of in the Bottomless Pit--bound, stifled, mad with Fear--none
could realize....

Bully Harberth entered the ring accompanied by Shanner, who looked
like a Sixth Form boy and was in the Shell.

Harberth wore a thick sweater and looked very strong and heavy.

"If the little kid lasts three rounds with _that_" observed Cokeson to
Coxe Major, "he ought to be chaired."

Dam was disposed to agree with him in his heart, but he had no fear.
The feeling that _his_ brief innings had come--after the Snake had had
Its will of him for a dozen years--swallowed up all other feelings.

Coxe Major stepped into the ring. "I announce a friendly boxing
contest between Harberth of the Fifth, nine stone seven, and Funky
Warren (said to be no longer Funky) of Barton's House, weight not
worth mentioning," he declaimed.

"Are the gloves all right," called Cokeson (whose fathe