"Come on now, he let you up when you was doon," and so they kept
the balance of fair play. But the fight raged on in a terrible fury of
battle, sometimes one boy on top, sometimes the other. Bob was the more
active of the two, and hardier, and what he lacked in weight he made up
in speed. One of Peter's eyes was bruised, while Robert's lip was
swelling, and each strained to plant the decisive blow that would end
the fight.
"Nae kickin', Peter! Ye're bate," yelled one watchful supporter of Bob,
as he noticed the former's booted foot come into violent contact with
Bobbie's bare leg.
"Big cowardie!" cried another, as Peter, crying now with rage and
vexation, hit out with his foot. "Fight fair an' nae kickin'!"
Bob managed to dodge the kick, and flinging himself in before Peter
recovered his balance, planted a heavy blow upon his opponent's nose.
"Ho! a jelly yin! a jelly yin!" roared the crowd in admiration. "Gi'e
him anither yin," and even Peter's supporters began to desert him. Bob,
thus encouraged, laid about him with all the strengthened "morale" of a
conscious victor, finding it comparatively easy now to hit hard--and
often. Peter, blinded by tears and choking with passion, could not see,
but struck aimlessly, till one resounding smack upon his already injured
nose brought the eagerly looked for crimson blood from it, and that of
course, in schoolboy etiquette, meant the end of the fight.
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