arry, don't be in a hurry," said Figgins. "I am not
quite ready, are you, Mr. Mole?"

"Oh yes," said Mole, "I am ready."

He fully intended to blow the orphan's head off the first fire.

"I'll give the signal to fire," said Harry. "Now, are you ready; one,
two, three!"

Mole's pistol-shot reverberated through the copse, but, as, a matter of
course, it did not the slightest harm to Figgins, who, however, thought
he heard it strike against the sabre which he held in a position of
guard.

It now began, for the first time, to strike the orphan that this novel
mode of fighting was very awkward for himself, for how was he to get at
his enemy?

At first he poised his sword as if about to fling it at him, then moved
by a sudden impulse he rushed forward, with a cry of vengeance, and
began attacking Mole furiously with some heavy cutting blows.

Mole, as his only resource, dodged about and caught some of these blows
upon his pistol, but judging this risky work, he took up his stick and
used it in desperate self-defence; thus dodging and parrying, he
retreated while Figgins advanced.

Once Mole managed to get what an Irishman would call "a fair offer" at
Figgins' skull, which accordingly resounded with the blow of his
weapon.

Half stunned, the orphan plunged madly forward and took a far-reaching
aim at the old tutor.

He, in his turn, dodged again, but his wooden legs not being so nimble
as real ones, he stumbled over some tall, thick grass, and fell
backwards into the stream.

Jack, thinking matters had gone far enough, caught the orphan's foot in
a rope, and bent him so far forward that he overbalanced himself and
fell on top of Mole, and both tumbled into the water together.

The alarm was given, and they were both drawn out, "wet as drowned
rats," but not quite so far gone.

They were, however, entirely sobered by their immersion.

A small glass of brandy, however, was administered to each, to prevent
them catching cold, and some of their garments were taken off to dry in
the sun.

Mole, the tutor, and Figgins, the orphan, wearied out with their
exertions, soon fell fast asleep.

CHAPTER LXXIV.

A TREMENDOUS RISE FOR MR. MOLE.

The quarrel between the two had been so far made up, that when they
awoke from their _siesta_, and the fumes of the alcohol had subsided,
neither of them seemed to remember any thing about the matter.

The party got safely home without encountering either robbers, sna